Chapter IX—Blades in the Grass

Hans had suggested that Rōkura do the hunting this time, but of course, she refused him, and pointedly. If she picked up a dead and bleeding animal, she would be tempted.

The lure of blood was too strong for her—and with her Persistent Bad Luck, the chances of a smattering of blood somehow getting into her mouth was far higher than one might normally expect.

No, Rōkura would not hunt unless absolutely necessary.

But with Hans there with her, he could easy do that part.

When he brought another wild pig to the camp they had set up—there seemed to be a lot of wild pigs in this area—Rōkura had steered clear of him and the kill, but even from twenty paces, she could smell the blood in the air. The sweet salty tang of iron was intoxicating.

However, since she craved fresh blood, the lure of the dead pig was not so bad. Still, she had taken a walk in the wood where it was quiet—where she wouldn’t be disturbed.

Until someone spoke to her.

“Hello.”

With a gasp, Rōkura whirled on him, her hand reaching for her katana hilt—but it was only Banjo.

“Oh my—I’m so sorry for startling you.”

Letting out a gasp, Rōkura’s lips twisted into a wry and relieved smile. “You’re quiet. Like a hunter. Why aren’t you with Hans?”

“Oh,” he said. “I’m not much of a hunter, I’m a afraid. Actually… I’m a bard.”

“A bard?”

He nodded. “Indeed. But my loot was lost in the wreck.”

“Shame,” Rōkura said. “It would be nice to hear you play around the fire tonight.”

“I will risk sounding arrogant,” he said, “but I promise that you would not have been disappointed.”

“Hmph.”

There was an awkward pause between them, then Banjo glanced up into the trees, into the darkening day. Because of the overcast skies and the constant drizzle and rumble of thunder, it was darker now than usual.

“The forest is lovely,” he said.

Rōkura looked around at the trees, and the grass and the rocks. It was lovely—and yet something about her spoke to the fact that she wasn’t one to seek out the forest. In her visions of her parents… We looked like royalty. But she didn’t say anything about that. Instead, the oni nodded.

“Banjo?” she asked.

“Hmm?

“Why are you here, going to the capital at this time?”

“While there’s a war on, you mean?” He smiled. “The answer is quite simple. I’m going to meet my brother and his family.”

“Oh.”

“Not a very interesting answer, I’m afraid. But he’s married to a local woman and he runs a small shop. Lately we’ve come into some coin. Inheritance, you see.”

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Banjo said as he looked up at the trees. “We’ve decided to pool our coin and start an inn. Our mother is already there with him, thank the gods.”

Rōkura nodded sympathetically. “Indeed. And so you will play the bard in your inn?”

“Exactly,” he said, his eyes brightening and his smile genuine. He truly loved what he did, that much Rōkura could see. “What about you?”

“I have…” What was she supposed to tell him? She couldn’t very well tell Banjo she was intent on assassinating a handful of individuals. And they were a handful—including the upper crust men and women involved.

We have a lot of work to do, Hans had said.

Part of Rōkura couldn’t wait—like a child excited for her sweets. What did that say about her? “Hans and I are going to the capital to see our…”—she almost said patron deity, but she amended the words in mid stride—“guild leader.”

“Oh my,” Banjo said. “You’re part of a guild.”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “We are adventurers.”

“So then this war is all the better for you, I see.”

She nodded. “Mm.”

Banjo looked at her, his eyes big and bright and boyish. A curl of golden hair fell at the side of his head. He was really quite beautiful, Rōkura thought. In his eyes she could see that he was both happy for her, and saddened—probably that she and Hans would be benefitting off a war.

Instead of lingering on the topic, Rōkura decided to end their conversation here. “I smell the roasting meet.”

“Indeed,” Banjo said. “And it is getting dark. Let’s head back.”

“All right.”

Because of the storm clouds and the breeze of the night, the air was quite chilly. Rōkura no longer had her cloak, so her skin prickled with the cold.

“Here,” Banjo said, offering her his jacket.

“What—uh—no! You keep it!” she said, her cheeks heating.

“No, please. I want you to wear it.”

“I can’t take your jacket, Banjo.”

“Then don’t,” he said with an affable laugh. “Just for tonight, okay—then you can give it back?”

With a sigh, she accepted his jacket. “Arigatou!”

“It’s no problem. I’ll just sit closer to the fire.”

From over those flames, Hans regarded, his eyes intent on Rōkura and Banjo as the licking tendrils reflected in his glasses, his narrow sly eyes watchful. He wondered if this wasn’t going to be a problem.

Since it was too soon to tell, he allowed himself to be distracted when the little boy complained about the meat. “Momma, it’s not as good as last time!” he said, looking up at her as he held onto her upper arm.

“Shush, Kao,” she said softly. “Eat and be happy that you have something to fill your stomach tonight.”

She was alone with her son. Rōkura wondered where the boy’s father was. She didn’t think he had been killed in the wreck, otherwise the boy’s mother would be broken up about it, surely?

“The reason why it’s not as good as before, young lad,” said Hans, “is because the meat isn’t salted. Before we had access to the salt water. Now we do not.”

“Oh,” the boy said as his mother smiled with the explanation. Then he tossed a chunk of the meat into the fire with a petulant fling of his hand.

His mother gasped and scolded him.

Hans laughed, and Rōkura realized she liked seeing him this way. But who was Hans? Was he a servant of Ogai-sama? A friend to Rōkura? Or am I just an associate to him? She had heard him use the businesslike word before when describing the people around him.

The golden-haired supported saw her watching him from across the fire and Rōkura smiled. Hans nodded, a friendly gesture. She turned as Aki cooed over baby. He made a frustrated noise, but soon became quiet.

“I for one am happy you are with us, Rōkura,” said Thasarian. What was his name, right? “After helping everyone get out of the boat, and Hans hunting.” He stood up. “I have no doubts that we will reach the capital very soon.”

“Now hold on,” Banjo said. “Before we reach the capital, we have to pass though Chōdaira.”

“Hmm—what?” asked the foreigner Thasarian with a frown. He was short, square shouldered and stocky. Rōkura had heard something about a missing blade as he had grumbled earlier on. She suspected the brown-haired boisterous man was a newbie adventurer of something.

“Chōdaira,” Banjo repeated. “It’s a city outside of the capital.”

“Oh!” Thasarian said, scratching his head. “Now I feel stupid.”

“There is no need to feel that way,” said Banjo. “It is I who should apologize?”

“Eh? Why?”

“Because, we haven’t spoken to the rest of the group.” Banjo laughed with embarrassment, wishing he were a better leader. But what can a bard do? Inwardly he sighed, continuing to do his best and hoping Hans or Rōkura would say something to take the lead. “Anyway, once we reach Chōdaira, I suspect most—if not all of us will find out own ways to the capital from there. I hope you have bank slips so you can withdraw some coin.”

“I don’t!” someone said. “What am I going to do? I was on my way to the capital with nothing but the clothes on my back. I spent all my coin on the trip!”

“Then it’s the same thing if you end up in Chōdaira, you fool!” someone snapped.

“Oh right,” he laughed.

“Wise guy.”

Everyone laughed.

“Listen,” Banjo said. “I know it’s been really hard for a lot of us. Some of us have… lost people we love in the wreck. I have no doubt the city administrator will see us taken care of.”

That seemed to calm some of the more worried members of the group.

“In the meantime!” said another man near Taro’s side, “I say we eat and be happy for the good company. Just think, we could be surrounded by monsters in some horrible situation right now, but no—we’re with decent people and we’ve got food and water!”

“Taro’s right!” Thasarian said.

Banjo smiled. “I agree.”

Rōkura nodded, more to herself than anyone else.

Someone stood and stretched, yawning long and ponderous. “I’m tired. I wish we had beds.”

“There’s canvas and quilts that we’ve secured from the wreck,” Banjo said. He stood. “Please—everyone, be mindful that there are many of us and that we have limited supplied. Share among yourselves, and sleep close to the fire.”

His voice was so soft and musical that it didn’t carry well to everyone. Rōkura stood. “Together, we will get through this. Chōdaira isn’t far from here. A few more days and we will all be in the city.”

Someone grabbed her arm.

Rōkura turned and realized it was Aki holding her wrist with tears in her eyes. Oh no, don’t cry!

“Thank you, Rōkura.”

The oni smiled, feeling awkward. She wasn’t good with people, but she did her best and put a hand on Aki’s wrist to comfort her. “We will get through this, Aki-san.”

“I know,” she said through a sniff as she wiped her cheek.

“We are all in your debt.”

“No,” Rōkura said, refusing such praise. “We are all in each other’s debt, because we’re a group now—at least until we reach the city.

They nodded.

Was Rōkura always so bad with people, she suddenly wondered, or was this one of the negative effects of her Mind Block that Ogai put over her?

While Hans watched and listened to the goings on, the fire crackling merrily, a part of him enjoyed it. And another part recoiled in revulsion and disgust. He stood, cut off a piece of fatty meat from the roast pig and took it to her.

“Here,” he said, pushing the plate on her.

“Thank you, Hans, but I’ve eaten.”

“Don’t think you can lie to me, Oni-san.”

“Lie?” she asked through an incredulous laugh. “Why would I lie about something like that?”

“I know you want to make sure everyone has their fill, but look.” He gestured to the rest of the camp around the fire. The people spoke in hushed tones, laughed amongst each other. Little Nobu cried as his mother Aki hushed and cooed over him while her husband brought her more meat to eat.

It seemed the stocky adventurer-to-be told a joke to his friend Taro, who laughed with an upturned wryness while he cleaned his sword blade.

It was almost like… a family.

A teat came to her eye. It was wonderful.

“Don’t well up on me now,” Hans said.

“Hmm?” Rōkura glanced down at the small man. He was smiling. “They’ve had plenty to eat, and there’s yet plenty of meat on the pig. “Go on. I know you want it.”

The truth was, she really did. Rōkura was… not to put a pun on it, a pig now that she had her powers. She laughed.

“What is funny?”

“Nothing,” she said, taking the plate. “Thank you, Hans.”

“It is my pleasure, Rōkura.”

As she looked up from the plate, Banjo was explaining something from the other side of the firelight. The glow of the flames made his golden hair look majestic. He was explaining something about stringed musical instruments as he mimed plucking the strings.

The oni girl sighed, happy to be here right now, despite everything. And all the while their enemies closed in around them—and not even Hans was aware of what malicious machinations were in play.

The early morning hours were quiet.

After a day of walking through the forest, the exertions of which took a toll on them all, even the higher-level members of the group, they had all been ready for a long night’s sleep.

The sun had not yet risen, and the birds were just beginning to chirp. The crickets had gone to sleep, and all around the camp the soft sounds of exhalations and sighs, the occasional snort or snore, issued from around the darkened fire, where underneath burning coals still emitted small trails of wispy grey smoke.

Rōkura awoke and blinked in the dark, though she knew it was the early morning hours, for the skies had a decidedly blue cast to them. She breathed in deeply, listening to her surroundings.

She needed to pee.

Laying there, she tried to fall back to sleep.

But…

She really needed to go.

Sighing, she pushed herself up and rubbed her face with the back of her hand. But something caught her notice. A feeling of…

She glanced about. That’s not magic is it? It’s close!

The trees were too silent.

Too ominous.

A worry niggled at the back of her skull. Rōkura looked for Hans in the morass of sleeping bodies and spotted him on the outer edge not far from where she had slept. “Hans,” she hissed quietly.

He didn’t stir.

She stood up, and just as she was about to take a step toward him, something approached, fast, as a thrill traveled from her stomach to her shoulders.

Rōkura turned, raising her hand defensively.

Something hit her and she grunted. It felt like a rock. And yet… Why do I smell blood?—she dragged her fingers across the top of her left hand and gasped as she felt the protruding blade.

Her heart skipped a beat and she screamed.

“HANS!”

Drawing her katana in one fast motion, everyone startled awake.

“Gah!” Hans screamed, practically flying off of the mattress he had fashioned from dried leaves he had found from under a tree and some sail fabric. What on earth is she—“What is—“

“We’re under attack!” Rōkura cried and she faced the forest as more of those little blades came toward her.

Everyone screamed, the weapon whales and the little boy called Kao cried along with little Nobu.

“Banjo!” Rōkura called, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t see them. Why couldn’t she see their attackers?

Shit—where are they?!

More projectiles came out of the darkness and her body tensed involuntarily. With a chink of metal on metal, she deflected one of them, while another hit her in the chest, but her Mizu armor blocked it completely as the light weapon thumped harmlessly against her and fell to the the grass.

“I’m here!” Banjo called.

“Get the women and children to safey!”

“But—“

“Do not argue with her!” called Hans. “Do as she says.”

“You are right—I am sorry.”

“Go!” cried Hans. “You are wasting time.”

“Right!”

Breathing heavily, Rōkura scanned the tree line for targets. “Hans, I can’t sense them. I can’t sense them at all.”

“Stay calm,” he said, running up to her side, his arms raised defensively. “You do not need to sense them to know they are there.”

“But, Hans—“

“You can feel their malice. Just—feel it, Rōkura-san!”

She nodded. “All right.”

“Where are they!” screamed Thasarian. “Let me at them! It’s bandits, isn’t it?”

“You don’t even have a weapon!’ called Taro “Stay back, you idiot.”

“I have a stick.”

“Something tells me that will not be good enough,” said Hans sardonically. The fool is going to get himself killed—but what do I care, that will give us more time to react to this attack. But who are these men?

In truth, their stealth skills were clearly strong, and that worried Hans a great deal, though he didn’t intimate that truth to Rōkura or the others.

“Hans!” hissed Rōkura, “what do we do?!”

The group of shipwreck survivors were loud and noisy, and they screamed and cried and ran in all directions while Banjo and several others tried to corral them together. Banjo called for them to stay near him and to get behind the thick trees that were nearby, but when people started screaming and falling into the grass with bloody wounds, his heart nearly stopped.

They had nowhere to go.

“Everyone, down on the ground!” he cried. “Lay low—do not move! Get down—get down!”

Hearing Banjo scream for everyone to lay low in the grass, Rōkura turned, a horrible worry in her heart.

Hans moved, hissed and caught something as she glanced back. In his hand was a small knife, long, spindly with a tapering design and a little ringlet on the end containing a tiny blue pinion.

“Watch what you are doing, Oni-san.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “What is that?”

“Shuriken,” he said. “They will continue to pelt us with these until we are worn down and unable to fight.”

“But that’s not fair!” she cried.

“Ha!” Hans scoffed. “All is fair in love and war, Oni-san—don’t you know that?”

A hot flash of anger prickled the skin on her cheeks. “Tell that to my dead parents!” she snarled through her teeth. “To the underworld with these devils!” she cried, and she ran forward toward the tree line, furious and incensed.

“Rōkura!” called Hans from behind. “RŌKURA!”

As she sprinted to the trees, she then caught sight of movement, but in the low light, even with her Celestial Eyes, she was unable to make out who they were perfectly.

Their Celestial Forms—intentions shown through her ability, were foggy and muddled and gave off a misting quality that made it difficult for her to get an idea of how they would act.

I don’t care! “I’m going to kill you all for attacking babies!”

Multiple little knives that Hans had called shuriken came at her. Some of them bounced off her Mizu armor while she knocked a few more out of the air. The men who threw them seemed to realize she was closing the distance, and quickly attempted to put more distance between themselves and her.

But Rōkura was fast on her feet as she screamed and snarled, knocking the shuriken that came her way as she sensed their malicious intent coming at her. She swung her blade one-handed—almost haphazardly.

When she flicked her wrist toward another shuriken, her sword came out of her hand and whirled end over end.

Her eyes widened to huge luminescent aqua-blue saucers. Had this been another time, she might have laughed at how dumb it was, but right now she was in danger.

From behind, Hans and the others yelled after her, but she was far too much ahead for them to help her now.

Something flicked through the air past her head and she flinches in on herself, trying to dodge it. It was a poor attempt.

“Rōkura!” cried Hans.

She growled, jumped forward and put her hands out. When she landed, she used them to spring herself into a roll and she hit a thick patch of grass that was waist high.

Instead of standing to run, she loped on all fours like some kind of wild animal until she reached the spot where her sword had fallen.

Where was it?

She glanced around, sensing—and hearing—the quick approach of an attacker pushing through the grass.

My sword!

She almost squealed with apprehension, when she finally spotted it, lurched for the blade and landed atop it, her hand slamming down on the hilt.

She rolled through the grass, the sound of a blade narrowly missing her as it cut strands of the plant light sending chills of terror up her spine.

“Come here!” cried Hans.

The figure must have paused, because Rōkura was able to roll into a crouching position, whereupon she lurched toward the black-clad figure and swing her blade at his back.

He turned, lifting his own katana to block.

She blinked and jumped back, then thrust forward with the point of her blade. The figure defended expertly, but not before Hans was upon him with multiple punches in his back.

The attacker stumbled forward and Rōkura cut downward, taking him across the shoulder, then back up across his chest in a spray of blood the spurted and sprayed.

“Gah!” she cried, shielding her face with her arm as she jumped away from the falling enemy and into the grass.

She landed on her stomach, the smell of the freshly released blood filling her nostrils like the scent of cool water to a woman dying of thirst in the desert.

More than anything, she wanted a taste of that blood—just a drop and—

“NO!” she snarled through her teeth.

Someone cried painfully behind her.

“Taro!” Thasarian called. “Are you all right?”

“Fine—just a flesh wound.”

Flesh wound…

The very words were addictive to the oni as she grunted and snarled through her teeth, forcing herself to get up.

“Tale this weapon,” said Hans.

“What about you?” said Thasarian.

“I fight without weapons,” Hans said.

“Really.”

“Do you see me holding a weapon, sir?”

Thasarian laughed dumbly as Rōkura turned to them. Hans looked her in the eye. “Are you all right, Rōkura-san?”

“I…”

Screaming erupted behind them. Rōkura gasped and glanced that way. She lurched in that direction, when Hans grasped her by the upper arm.

“Rōkura!”

“What?” she snapped. “Hans—they need our help!”

He sighed painfully slow. “They are using them as bait… don’t you see it.”

“I’m not going to let them kill everyone!”

“I didn’t say we have to.”

“Then what are we doing standing around here?” asked Thasarian.

“Yeah?” Taro came forward, his hand bloody as he held it over his wounded arm. It looked like one of the shuriken just grazed him.

The smell of his blood was heady and good. Rōkura would have liked nothing more than to attack him, to sink her teeth in his skins surrounding that wound.

And her own wound for that matter.

“Use your Rage state,” Hans said.

Her eyes shot open and her heart almost stopped. “What? You can’t be serious.”

“I will get them out while you…”

“While I massacre anyone and everyone who gets in my way?” She shook her head, backing away from Hans and toward the group. Her sense of urgency was enough to make her skin crawl. “No, Hans!”

She turned and ran and Hans ground his teeth as a flash of frustration scraped his patience. He was left behind when the two lower-level adventurers went after her. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Very well, Rōkura.” Of course, she couldn’t hear him from the distance. “But you will soon.”

She rushed out of the thick grasses and back to the group. Some of the members were running in different directions .A man sprinted toward the tee line to Rōkura’s left and he was cut down in a blood cry.

Why were they trying to kill everyone? What have we done to them to make these assassins want to kill us?

“STOP!” she cried. “Or I will kill you all!”

As she reached the group of shipwreck survivors, her largest concern was for the children, but she didn’t see Aki or her baby, but she heard him crying.

She glanced from left to right, sensed malicious intent thrumming toward her and she reacted, flicking the shuriken away with a shriek of metal.

Moving forward, she called out, “Aki?”

Rōkura really needed pee! Just my luck to be in a sword fight where I’m about to piss myself!

A dark form moved near the grass in front of her and Rōkura nearly struck him down, when Banjo suddenly cried out in alarm. “Ayyyaaah!”

“Banjo?”

“Oh gods!” he breathed. “I thought you were going to cut me in half, Rōkura!” He pushed himself up from the ground. “Rōkura—I’m no fighter, otherwise I would—“

“Enough,” she commanded.

Turning, Taro and Thasarian came up to her, along with Hans a little bit behind. “Hans, I want to lead everyone away from here.”

“What is your plan?”

“We push one of the direction and kill anyone in our way.”

“All right,” he said with a nod, though he was a little crestfallen, for he would have much rather preferred she used her oni state, but now was no time to argue. If he did, Rōkura would never trust him again. And Ogai-sama would be most displeased if I let that happen. “Then I will protect the flank while these fine gentlemen go with you.”

“What?” asked Rōkura. “No, Hans—“

“I can take care of myself, Oni-san. Do not argue with me.”

As he said the words he lifted his hand and caught a shuriken, all without looking for it. Her eyes widened and Rōkura understood his point. Without saying anymore more, she nodded, turned and told Banjo to call everyone up.

“Why… why me?”

Between the trees and the grasses, the hiding places of the others were quite protective, especially since these assassins seemed to prefer not to expose themselves. “Because they trust you.”

“Oh—all right.”

He turned and she moved to protect him in case any shuriken came out of the trees.

“Hey!” Taro said. “We need to spread out. We’re too grouped together.”

“All right,” Rōkura said. “You, Thasarian, go that way. Taro—over there.”

“Doing it now,” said Taro with a nod as he and Thasarian split up.

Hans, still close by because they hadn’t yet corralled the people, smiled with surprise. He was quite impressed with Rōkura’s leadership skills. She gave orders, she reacted, all without being told what to do.

Rōkura swallowed, feeling like a fraud. Hans didn’t seem to want to lead—perhaps he couldn’t? And no one else was doing anything. Someone had to react to save these people!

And I have no idea what I’m doing! I don’t even know if my plan will work.

“Gods, I need to piss!”

“What?” Banjo.

“Banjo!” hissed Rōkura. “Get the group together.

“I’m sorry—all right.”

“As soon as you can, bring them all to that group of trees over there.” She pointed a hand. “Hans will protect your flank.”

“Okay,” he said weakly.

“Thasarian!” she hissed. “Taro!”

They looked her way.

“Follow Banjo.”

They both nodded.

“What are you going to do?” Hans asked.

“I’m… I’m going to do what I said, Hans. Do you think we should do something different.”

“No-no!” he said quickly, raising his hands. “They all trust you.”

She swallowed. What he had just said didn’t increase her confidence in the slightest—in fact, it might have made things worse, because it meant that those who didn’t make it…

With a heavy sigh and a need to pee greater than almost anything else on her mind, Rōkura lurched to the front of their scattered group as Banjo started calling everyone together.

Glancing back one more time, she swallowed as a man and a woman stood up out of the grass like startled deer. Then she jerked her head toward the trees. Just before she moved, a shuriken came at her, but she moved out of its path and it flicked past her ear and fell into the grass harmlessly.

Rōkura ran toward the trees. When she sensed malicious intent, she used her Blink ability, her body flashing and everything blinking black, then coming back into focus with a shimmering flash of luminescent magic.

She Blinked again, then again, until she saw the assassins ahead of her. With a final two Blinks, she moved to her right, then back to her left so that she was positioned behind the assassins.

The oni isekai held her mouth tightly shut as she brought her sword across the back of one of the black-clad figures, putting him down instantly in a spray of hot blood that squirted into her face.

Flinching, she blew air out of her nose quickly in case any of the blood got inside her nostril, then she Blinked back, avoiding the attacks of the dead assassin’s allies, who reacted quickly, using the trees to propel themselves through the air.

Something cracked and a slice of pain cut across her shoulders as Rōkura’s blocked the incoming blades. She gave ground quickly against their onslaught, making them thing she was weak, before she cut them both down succinctly.

Another crack snapped through the air and something wrapped around her neck, but Rōkura turned, grabbed the extended leather that stretched out from her neck and yanked hard.

The fighter at the end of that whip fell forward into the grass, squirmed and righted herself. The oni could tell she was a woman, because her limbs with thin and she moved very quickly, far faster than a larger limbed man might move.

She cut downward with his katana, but missed and the black-clad woman twirled around on the leaves, then lashed out with her foot, which came into contact with Rōkura’s ankle.

As she lost balance and fell to the ground, the figure lurched away, then once she was at a safe distance, flicked multiple shuriken between her fingers, then flung them toward Rōkura.

She rolled, deflecting one of them from hitting her with her blade. As she got up, she forced herself to keep from snarling as she kept her mouth clamped shut. The way Rōkura moved most have looked slow and ungainly, because the assassin just watched her.

Using her upper arm, Rōkura wiped at her face in case there was any blood. With her heart beating like a hammer inside her chest and her ears thrumming with each beat of blood, she couldn’t tell what was blood and what was sweat.

But if she could continue fighting, the blood on her body would stale and die, and become worthless to her Oni Rage—a think she was counting on.

She rushed forward as the ninja jumped back onto a large rock and looked down at her. Then she flicked a shuriken into her hand.

Rōkura jumped with her sword arm outstretched, then blinked. There was little resistance on her blade as it passed though the assassin’s neck.

She landed, her blade arm still outstretched as she fell into a crouch, feeling a surge of energy and anger. She worried if she had ingested blood, but this was not blood. It was…

Confidence.

Arrogance.

The assassin’s body thumped into the grass and her head rolled almost comically past where Rōkura was crouched.

Slowly she stood, turned her head to glance over her shoulder with murder in her eyes. But this murder, this want to kill, was not the desire of her mindless Rage state.

She wanted to kill these assassins for attacking her group, her friends, and the children!

Rōkura couldn’t see them, but she knew the assassins were there in the dark—watching her between the trees. She opened her mouth and hissed like a beast, not knowing why she did such a thing at all—but it felt right.

“HnngaaahhhH!” cried someone.

It was Hans!

Rōkura ran back toward the group, when suddenly one of the black-clad figures tuned from out of cover behind a tree.

Blinking past him, she flipped her katana in her hand and thrust her arm out backward, taking him in the back with the tapering point, then she Blinked twice more in the direction of the group.

She passed through some more trees and found them behind a large rock. Hans jumped back from the assassin throwing shuriken at him with every step. He caught them, feeling like he was just on his toes, when he threw them back.

His opponent dodged them, then flicked a short curved blade out from behind his back. Lurching forward, he swung at Hans, and he cried out, jumped into the grass and rolled.

“NO YOU DON’T!” cried Taro and he came in and swung the katana Hans had given him.

Metal shrieked against metal when suddenly he cried out and flinches, his hand going to the wound behind his shoulder where a shuriken protruded from his back. Several members of the group screamed.

Rōkura came into their midst.

One man dove into the grass for cover and put his hands on his head just as two more assassins pushed into their ranks past Thasarian who swung and grunted while fighting a third.

Surprisingly, the assassins didn’t try to assist their ally by killing Thasarian, instead one of them stabbed the cowering man in the back.

Shin pushed up from the grass and gasped.

“NO!” cried Rōkura.

She blinked forward.

Aki screamed as little Nobu cried and whaled in her arms.

Rōkura shimmered above the assassin and struck down with her blade, a spray of hot blood taking her across the chest and face.

She blinked, trying to free her eyes of the blood as she shook her head.

Something came across her back, fast and with deadly intent. She jumped forward, narrowly avoiding a blade strike to the back of her neck as the air was cleaved next to her ear.

“FIIIISST OF THE GODS!” shouted Hans, and a bright magical light appeared, and then was gone.

Feet landed in the grass along with a body a moment later as Rōkura got up, caught sight of Banjo crouching down with two people under his hands.

“We have to move!” called Hans.

Thasarian cried out suddenly and Rōkura whirled just as he fell into the grass, the assassin at the end-arc of his sword strike.

Oh-no!

“Thasarian!” cried Taro.

More of the black-clad figures appeared, surrounding them on all sides. Rōkura whirled, glancing to their front, to the read, to the flank. They were everywhere—dozens of them!

Hans sighed heavily. “Well—we might be able to make it if we bolt for the trees as fast as we can.” His suggestion though was halfhearted because—

“No,” Rōkura said.

“As I thought,” he said with a wry smile. “You really are a difficult girl, you know?”

“How can you… make jokes at a time like this?” Banjo asked weakly.

“That’s a good question, boy.”

“I…” Banjo said, but he trailed off.

“Please!” Aki cried as Nobu in her arms whaled. “Please—don’t let them kill us.” Shin took her in his arms and she pushed her head into his neck, his eyes pleading.

Rōkura ground her teeth and made a fist with her free hand. “I WON’T LET YOU KILL THEM!”

Something came at her, and she swiped at it, taking a shuriken in her forearm. Rōkura looked at it, glanced up at the assassin who threw it.

“Ah!” grunted Taro as he nodded. “I know what that feels like.”

Hans back-stepped as a wave of the black-clad men came closer.

“Rōkura ground her teeth some more, then she screamed in a wordless cry, letting out all her anger and frustration. She bolted forward, Blinked, cut the assassin down in front of her, then Blinked up above them.

She dripped, swinging her blade around her in a wide arc, cutting the head off of another fighter.

She jumped back as they lashed out.

Hans screamed.

Taro cried out, grunting both in pain and with exertion as he swung his sword warningly, though his attacks were wide and clumsy, and even clumsier now that his shoulder was smarting like the devils had put their evil teeth in him.

Hans darted back and forth, dodging their attacks.

Knowing he could transform into a cat at will and be off, he had a certain reassurance against the fear of defeat, and yet—he glanced with concern in Rōkura’s direction.

Though I’m very disappointed, Ogai-sama would say, you did your best, old boy. There’s plenty more Rōkura’s where she came from. Actually, she’s quite rare and I would have greatly preferred it if…

“No,” Hans whispered. I don’t want that to happen to Rōkura.

“What?” asked Taro with confusion.

“Rōkura!” Hans called, a note of desperation in his voice. He caught another shuriken and threw it back, but the assassin turned his shouldered and it missed its mark.

Everyone in the group cried and huddled together as they waited for Hans, Taro and Rōkura to be defeated. They had already lost Thasarian, and it wouldn’t be long before they were all taken down, one by one—outnumbered by these black-clad cowards.

Howling, Rōkura didn’t even hear Hans call out to her as she swung her sword, cutting down fighter after fighter. They were fast, agile. They moved—they dodged her attacks. They came in when she least expected it.

Any moment her Persistent Bad Luck would come into play and she would make a wrong move. That would be the end of—

Something happened.

A sudden whirlwind of powerful energy approached.

The black-clad assassins visibly bristled before Rōkura. She thought she heard Hans call out to her, but all the fighting suddenly stopped.

Snapping sounds issued from the trees.

An individual with a long grey skirt and a white tunic tucked into her waistline came forward. Her hair was tied behind her head and she whirled with her katana, called something out that Rōkura didn’t hear.

Her body exploded forward with visible energy around her sword and she struck the assassins in front of her, sending ten of them flailing into the air.

The hairs on the back of Rōkura’s neck bristled as she watched this new warrior, her face uncovered, attack the black-clad men who were trying to kill them all.

She smiled, hope soaring into her heart, though defensively and on her guard, she lifted her blade as the woman came near.

With narrow eyes and a smile on her face, she looked at Rōkura—took her in. “Hmph.” Then she moved off, killing more of the assassins.

Hans turned about on his feet as the assassins started retreating—two more figures appearing. They cut the retreating assassins down as they tried to escape.

Some of the black-clad men tossed down little smoke bombs that snapped and puffed with grey smoke, covering their retreat. The two men did not pursue, but instead came back to the group.

Hans was… Utterly in shock, I must say. He clapped his hands nice and slow. “Very good. I must say, we are in your debt, good people.”

They coalesced near the frightened people, who glanced about and once they realized they were no longer in trouble, cried and let out their relief through tears.

Rōkura was wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open. She gave a quick moment to Aki, putting a hand on her shoulder, but she was too torn up to even respond as her husband looked up at her, thanking her profusely.

The oni nodded, moved off and tried not to walk funny. Her need to relieve herself was great. She sunk into the grass next to Taro, who touched Thasarian’s neck, a grim look on his face.

“I am sorry for your friends,” the woman said. “But you are all safe now. We have driven the ninja off into the woods.”

“Ninja?” asked Hans.

“Indeed,” the woman said, her smile still present. Or was that just how she looked? There was a little white scar across her cheek.

“They are gone,” one of the men said as he returned from the outer perimeter.

The woman nodded again.

Glancing at them as he still stood on his hands and knees, Banjo nearly gasped, as he recognized who these people were. Moree specifically, he recognized that woman! “You’re…” he said, getting up, his eyes wide and his mouth slack.

Rōkura looked at Banjo. They all did. He pointed. “You’re Yuki Arinatto of the Taisho Six!”

The woman gestured to her two mail companions, both swordsmen. “That’s right. We all are.”

Banjo nodded, turned and called out to the group. “It is all right! This people are part of the Taisho Six. They are here to help us!”

Audible relief sounded about, but still some of the survivors sniffed as they were unable to keep an outpouring of emotions after just being saved.

“Taisho Six…” Hans said musingly as he put his hand to his chin. Of course, he didn’t recognize the name. Hans had been to many worlds, this was not one of them. He was here, because Rōkura had been brought here, where she had been sacrificed with her parents to the dark god Hokorash.

This was where her revenge would take place, and where Ogai’s matters needed to be settled at this time.

“I must thank you for rescuing us,” Hans said with a mild-mannered bow. “It was quite unnecessary of you.”

“Do not mention it,” one of the men said.

“The sun is almost up,” Suki said. “We should get going.”

Smiling, Rōkura couldn’t hide her joy any longer, and while she glanced about with her heart soaring with happiness now that they were all saved, all the while trying with the power of a god not to touch her knees together, she said, “I’m glad we’re all safe now, because”—and she burst out in sudden embarrassment and tears. Why now?!

“Rōkura?” asked Hans, a niggle of worry assailing him. “Are you all right?”

“I… I… I have to…”

She peed.