His Katana made a sharp hiss as it left it's saya. Running along the edge of the mountain trail, the wind at his back, Reche stopped and observed his prey. Prey. Staring at the unsuspecting man before him, Reche sighed in disgust at what he had become. A monster. A phantom. A creature of the dark. No. He had not become Lost. Not yet. Lifting his taint blackened hand, Reche swung. The man beneath him started, and gasped aloud, as he saw the two pure white eyes staring back at him. Then, fading like a shadow. The eyes were gone. Gathering his courage, the man moved to where he had seen them, and when his eyes had adjusted themselves to the dark, he stepped back in surprise. Upon the snow lay a severed human hand, black as the darkest obsidian. Then, slowly, the man began to smile.
"I have found you at last Reche-Sama."
Reche No Oni paced about his lair angrily. He flexed his still-growing stump where his left hand had been, and cursed for what must be the hundredth time. He was beginning to become worried. Reche's soul was beginning to assert itself, and before too long, it might just break through. While this vessel had great power, the Oni cursed at it's spiritual tenacity. Even a demonic spirit of his power could not hold Reche's soul forever if he had help. Sometimes, the Oni wondered at the man in the mountains... Why, after so many victims, did Reche refuse to kill this one? It was a problem Reche No Oni would have to rectify. With a snap of his finger, a small, winged gray demon appeared in a burst of black fire. Reche No Oni spoke to it in a grating voice. "Underling, get me Fosuta." Grinning wickedly, the little creature twirled in the air, and exited the cave with a dark glee. "Do your worst, manling," mused the Oni, "There will be blood by the next moon, and by all the power in Jigoku, it will not be mine."