~~~

Loop and a loop and a loop and a loop and a loop and a loop

thought the koi to itself as it curved around another wooden leg of the pier, unaware that it was a pier that the wood was attached to, or even what a pier was.

Another few loops and it would have to swim back home

deal with the family again

the horror stories about giant catfish and death claws from the upper world

constant fear and paranoia.

or, it countered, swimming around another wooden leg, I could just stay here for a while longer, enjoy my own thoughts, the quietude of-

An eruption, half the lake folding in on itself, danger.

The koi instinctively darted downwards, feeling something brush against its tail as the current caught up and pushed it left.

Turning back, it caught sight of the enormous God mask sinking past, eyes four times the size of its own, reeds fixed to the beast’s pale head, blood seeping almost apologetically out of the neck.

Not a catfish, it told itself as it sped back towards the centre of the lake, towards safety. Not coming for me.

On the pier above, the shadowy figure of Ichiko watched from a kneeling position as Reiko’s body shifted from bold to faint to invisible to did it ever truly happen?

If Misora asked, no. I have no idea where she is. Why don’t we find Kanae and ask her? Oh, she wandered off on her own. Then she could be anywhere.

Or she could just tell the truth?

Rubbing non-existent blood off her hands, Ichiko pulled herself back to her feet and looked out across Lake Suwa. In the distance, about two kilometres north, she could see the tiny shape of something that could be a boat…with both targets potentially on board…but she couldn’t be certain. The sun light was brightening, but not quickly enough. And even if it were midday, it was probably too far to make a definite confirmation.

But it was them…it had to be.

The boat had been taken within the last hour, the wooden boards were still damp, and Reiko’s lunge for the dagger at least half proved it.

A few bubbles popped up on the surface near her zori, drawing attention back down.

Trapped air, she thought, going back over the kill…her memory of it…confirming that there was no fakery.

Trapped air or fish panic.

She cleared her throat, brushed down her dōbuku, the stolen yukata poking out underneath. Checked for bloodstains. Made excuses for any future ones Misora spotted that she hadn’t accounted for.

It’s from before, the dungeon.

A guard’s blood.

Reiko’s blood.

She tried to kill me.

Traitor…helped them escape…she admitted it.

All were acceptable and the act was done and there were still two targets halfway across the lake that, with a bit of luck and discipline, could be intercepted on the northern shore.

That was what she had to focus on.

~~~

Back inside the drop-in temple, Ichiko sat down on the same high stool she’d used as a murder platform, and slowly rotated the cup of shōchū.

It was mostly empty.

Just a small puddle of alcohol mixed with some loose drops of Reiko blood.

And each time she turned it a little, the blood mixed into the shōchū a tiny bit more.

Mixed and diluted.

Outside, the wind blew against the door, making it rattle. Clearly made by a novice as the track that the panel had been attached to was far too loose. Maybe they didn’t get much wind out on this side of the lake. It was odd. There hadn’t been any wind when she’d come in. Was a storm coming? Hopefully not. She had no patience for that kind of weather. And Misora would probably call it a metaphor.

Gods, Misora…where was she?

How long did it take to check the tree line?

Wouldn’t she stumble in any second now, see everything?

See what she’d done…

Ichiko abandoned the cup and wrapped fingers around Reiko’s dagger, rotating the handle of that instead.

Then shifting to the blade and turning it that way.

This temple, she thought, glancing around at the iconography on the far wall, is not a true temple. Nothing can be judged from within here. These icons are not my icons. These gods are not my gods. This carpentry is not competent carpentry.

In the red circle, we relent.

In the green void, we…

Behind her, the door rattled again, causing her grip to sharpen and her hand to cut itself on the edge of the blade.

‘Kuso…’

She wiped the streak of blood off her fingers and dabbed some loose shōchū from the counter onto the wound. Then told herself to stop moping and get out there, find Misora and command them north.

Putting the order into an internal Shingen voice, she pushed up off the high stool and headed towards the door, almost tripping on an uneven chunk of tatami.

‘Not a fucking temple,’ she said out loud, kicking out at the mat.

~~~

Outside, the sun was halfway up, and the shore of Lake Suwa reacted by producing a kind of surreal azure glow across its terrain.

There was no one within sight as Ichiko descended the four steps from the temple entrance to the dirt that did a pretty poor impression of sand, but she was too professional to slouch or breathe out dramatically.

Absolute quiet can be solitude or prelude.

A prelude to ambush or assassination, usually. Or a lone figure sneaking up from behind, with expertly concealed footsteps…

Ichiko spun round fast and swiped at the rogue fingers reaching out to prod her on the shoulder.

‘Gods of-…what the hell are you doing?’

‘Kuso. Idiot.’

‘You almost slashed my fucking hand off,’ continued Misora, clutching an imaginary wound on her left palm.

‘Blind footsteps…in this light…’

‘I whispered to you when you came out the door, what are you talking about? You nodded back at me.’

Ichiko pulled the dagger back in to her side, squinting at the door of the temple that she’d just come out of.

‘Not the biggest of nods, but…’

‘I did not hear you.’

‘Okay, well, fine, we both messed up then.’ Misora stretched out her fingers and pointed at the rear side of the temple. ‘I heard a splash round back and went to investigate. Some blood on the boards, and damp too. Which means…’

‘They took the boat.’

‘…there was probably-…yeah, that’s what I thought. The wood was still damp.’

‘I saw the blood too. One of them must be injured.’

‘Did you see them leave?’

‘What?’

‘The ashigaru, the boy…were they on the boat? Did you see them?’

Ichiko blinked like a raccoon on the branch of a falling tree, then quickly compensated by opening her eyes to the size of honey melons. ‘A shape in the distance…heading to the north shore…I think it was them.’

Misora nodded, tracing the route of the shore back to the northern side. ‘Gonna be impossible to get round there before they land. We should find Kanae and Reiko first, go from there.’

‘That…is not necessary.’

‘Huh? You mean we should go off without them?’

Ichiko tightened her grip on the dagger, shifting its aim up from the ground to Misora’s knees.

On the shore around them, the wind picked up again, this time forcing the hair of both ninjas to flutter about chaotically for three seconds before settling down and leaving them looking like they’d just wrestled a forest.

Misora pushed the tangled hair strands off her face and ran through a few curses, then added a hushed kuuuuuso as three figures emerged from the tree line to the west.

‘Behind. Three,’ she said quickly, not bothering to point.

Ichiko took the hand away from her own hair-coated face and spun, quickly sliding the dagger up into the sleeve of her yukata.

‘We’re from the temple, early shift,’ coached Misora, as the three figures, who they could now see were Suwa guards, marched towards them, all with their katanas drawn.

‘Kill and run,’ replied Ichiko, loosening her left sleeve.

‘No, no…diplomacy.’

‘You take the one on the right, I’ll handle the other two.’

‘We’re from the temple, it’s the early shift,’ repeated Misora, stepping up to the side of Ichiko and gripping her left wrist, as her other arm moved to wave at the three guards, who were now little more than ten metres away.

‘Stop taking charge,’ said Ichiko, shaking off Misora’s hand, then spinning round the other way as two more figures appeared to their rear. ‘Kuso…’

‘This does not look like a Suwa dungeon,’ announced Lord Jun’ya, light blue eyes on Ichiko’s sleeve as the wind shook it and something metallic flashed from within.

‘Of all the fucking luck….’ mumbled Misora, dropping the greeting arm and moving for the dagger in her own sleeve. A sleeve that was now ensconced in blue mist, dragging her upwards into the air, then back with whiplash effect into the shallows of Lake Suwa.

She landed awkwardly on her shoulder and groaned as her body rolled up reflexively into a defensive posture, the pain running all the way down the length of her arm.

‘Demon fraud…’ spat Ichiko, pulling up the rim of her sleeve and flicking a bo-shuriken at the Suwa General’s head…then freezing in bafflement as it curved in mid-air and lodged into the neck of the guard next to him.

‘Poor aim,’ said Lord Jun’ya, watching with the compassion of a sociopathic cedar tree as his comrade dropped onto the dirt, not quite dead, but definitely on the way to it.

‘Ichiko…back…’ shouted Misora, rising to her feet, prepping her own dart.

It was a logical command, but Ichiko was beyond that level of rationalism, her left hand firing off three quick darts in succession as the rest of her body put distance between her and the apparently supernatural Suwa.

Contrary to Lord Jun’ya’s remark, her aim was excellent - she’d been in the top three dart throwers all through the academy - but all three missed their targets, the Suwa General dodging with an effortless shoulder feint, and the other two guards on the flank rolling with surprising adeptness onto the dirt.

Kuso, guards with actual training, she thought, pulling out her dagger. But if the snake is headless…

‘Back…Ichiko…’ Misora shouted again, holding position in the shallow water as she flung two of her own bo-shuriken, one missing due to morning fatigue and the other hitting the side of the guard who was already dead.

The latter effort caught the attention of Lord Jun’ya, who managed a chuckle, before refocusing on the advancing figure of Ichiko, crouched low, dagger held back, ready to slash upwards.

Ah, predictable, he thought, opening himself up for the attack, and then saying ‘ugh’ as the Shingen ninja shifted aim at the last millisecond and sliced at his right leg.

Not a clean hit, but there was blood…or blue goo…which disoriented Ichiko enough for the Suwa General to parry her follow-up strike, this one an upwards throat slash, and then knock the dagger out of her hand completely.

‘Cunning little beast,’ he said, spotting flecks of blood on her neck and moving forward to lick them.

‘Ichiko…’

Feeling the cold of his tongue coupled with Misora’s primal yell, Ichiko rebooted, running through her options. No dagger, no dart access, no leverage for kick attacks. What else?

Teeth, she decided and, ignoring the feral shrieks of back Ichiko from Misora, pushed her face forward, aiming for the side of the Suwa General’s throat.

Too far, too bearded.

Arggh, different target, something non-fatal, but enough to break the iron-clad grip he seemed to have on her neck.

Tilting her head left, she went in for the first lump within range, his ear lobe…and let out a whistle of air as something blunt pushed itself into her back.

‘Ichiko…’ Misora screamed again, finally ditching the shallow water and moving towards the blue-eyed demon.

For some reason, the other three guards stood there and did nothing, their faces rigid and dumbstruck, staring at the visceral body horror unfolding opposite.

Lord Jun’ya…their superior officer…pushing his left hand into the female ninja’s body…blood and blue slime oozing out…and his face…doing something to her neck…

‘Off her, demon,’ yelled Misora, diving low and, despite some pretty sloppy technique, planting her dagger up and diagonal into the General’s gut.

His grip loosened instantly and Ichiko dropped, almost landing on Misora.

‘My uniform,’ he said with mild irritation, looking down at the wound, blue slime leaking out in fifteen different streams.

Keeping her dagger gripped tight, Misora half thought about striking again, ending a major Suwa target once and for all, but something about the way he was reacting to a supposedly fatal knife wound told her to back off, pick up Ichiko and get the hell out of there.

‘Kill him,’ blurted out Ichiko, along with a drizzle of blood. ‘He’s Suwa…kill him. Now.’

Misora patted Ichiko on the shoulder and tried not to look at the blue shit coming out of her neck. Not human, she told herself. This man is not human. Stay and you’ll both die. Get to the lake and…maybe. Or stab him again and the others will run off. Then lop off his head and burn it. Bury the ashes at sea.

Both tracks of thoughts ran on for another ten, twenty seconds - the Suwa General still inspecting his stomach wound, Ichiko still coughing up blood and demands for her to kill him - and it was only when the guards switched back on and shouted at each other to get the sneaky witches that Misora finally reached a decision.

Perhaps not an ideal one, but…faced with a demon who didn’t seem to feel pain or die like a human would…who leaked fluorescent blue blood…

‘What…doing…’ spluttered Ichiko, trying and failing to hold up a defensive arm.

‘Saving us.’

‘No…’

‘Yes.’

Sliding her arm around Ichiko’s back, and flinching at the wetness, she pulled her towards the shore, getting waist deep before trying to think of a way to fight the guards about to intercept her while also preventing Ichiko from drowning.

Luckily, the dilemma was rendered superfluous as the Lord Jun’ya finished with his wound examination and shouted at the three guards to stop.

Two of them obeyed immediately, while the third kept going, prepping his katana to strike at Misora’s back…and getting a dart in the neck for his trouble.

‘I said stop,’ boomed the Suwa General, standing at the edge of the shore, the hole in his stomach and eye sockets both emitting the strangest blue light.

The third guard sank beneath the surface, his arm locked around his own neck as if he were attempting to strangle himself, and the other two took a step back in retreat, shoulders hunched up a little in case of more darts.

‘Swim, little creatures,’ Lord Jun’ya bellowed, eyes honing in on Misora. ‘See if you can make it to the other side.’

There was no smile or smirk attached, no way to know if he expected them to die on the way or actually make it to the northern shore, and the blue goo coating her hand made Misora realise that she didn’t care what he thought, demons were in their own little world, fuck them, and the important thing was to survive, her and Ichiko, together, so they could fix their wounds on dry land and start bickering with each other again.

‘Idiot…’ muttered Ichiko, as Misora pulled her deeper into the lake, keeping her feet rooted to the lake bed until the water was up to her chin, then pushing upwards into an awkward doggy paddle.

‘Four kilometres,’ she said, relinquishing the alternative of fuck off, he’s not human, you’ve got blue demon blood all over you, and focusing instead on the marathon swim ahead of her. ‘Try to kick your legs.’

‘We won’t make it…’

‘Try.’

‘Too far.’

‘Legs. Kick them.’

Ichiko drooled out another line of blue blood then groaned and did a solitary kick. Then groaned again. And did another kick. Another groan. Another kick. Until finally she established some limited form of rhythm.

‘That’s better.’

‘Still won’t make it,’ Ichiko slurred, eyelids closing.

‘Don’t sleep…’

Her eyes came back open, stretching out to the fringes. ‘Too far…’

‘Yes, very far. Now for the right arm. Any movement will help.’

‘Kasu…’

Misora rode out the shock insult and waited for her comrade’s arm to start ploughing water. After a few seconds, and a few more insults, it finally sparked into action, not helping their progress across the lake that much, but definitely enough to keep her eyes open and her brain aware.

Which was the main aim.

And the secondary one: to avoid thinking about what all that blue slime was doing to her comrade’s insides.

Blue blood…blue eyes…unharmed by a dagger to the gut…

Misora told herself not to, but looked back anyway.

The Suwa General was still standing on the shore, flanked by the two surviving guards, watching them with shining blue eyes, the pit in his stomach glowing like one of those magical doors from old Kyushu mythology.

If only Atta Noe were here, she thought, an image of a young girl’s butchered corpse appearing next to the purple demon in her head.

If only none of them were here, she corrected, hearing Ichiko’s groans again and turning back to the lake ahead.

Fucking demons.