AN: this is my first fanfiction, ever. Hope you like it, but I'm still getting in the whole "groove" of writing this kind of thing. Pardon any spelling or grammar errors, that's just me being a little tired out and typing in the dark.
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People fear yokai. To humans, they are far less innocent than the things that go bump in the night; they are malicious tricksters and cold-blooded murderers. They sneak up on lost humans and eat them, enslave them, or make them simply disappear. Most yokai live for tricking humans, even killing them, and the humans have a problem with this – understandably.
But what the unknowledgeable don't recognize is the concept of the clans. One yokai clan rules over many smaller and weaker clans, but their reach is not indefinite, and all look to strengthen and expand. Some even aim for areas inside the territory of other clans.
In that case, Mt Nejireme was not a popular spot, except for ghost hunters. It had a wonderful forest, though few walked through it even now for fear of the yokai that lived there. All for the best of the Gyuki Clan, though the formidable warriors' security was a little lax. Their great fault was pride in themselves, for the most part.
Gyuki Clan, one of the most feared warrior yokai clans, protected Mt Nejireme for the Nura Clan, their superior uniting clan. It was only for Nura Clan that the warriors had any contact with others outside of killing them, and in return they protected Nura's western border of the mountain, which was prime wishful thinking of other yokai clans who wished to capture a piece of Nura's territory.
Some kind of protection, thought a young yokai woman as she walked up the stairs on the mountain's side. She was here centuries after her family's detachment from the area to survey the land and see how easy it would be to take the mountain. So far, all news was good.
Perhaps she, like others that had walked a similar path, relaxed too much. She only noticed after she trudged off the stairs toward the shrine of Umewakamaru the footsteps that followed her. Dropping her shoulder bag and her human disguise that had gotten her through the human settlement at Nejireme's feet, her feet traced a semicircle in the soft earth that called out to her as she turned, a little too slowly, to face the person behind her.
She could only think that she should have taken more time with the disguise, which carried many memories for her, before she was dead.
The earth wept blood.