The scuffle of feet sliding and catching against wood was deafening, and Wolf let up just as Kuro began to fall back, catching a fistful of his yukata and pulling him upright.

"Again."

The swing of a sword, the clash of metal, and Wolf's shoulder protested at the force of it. Kuro was still standing, but his face screwed up with the effort of the deflection, and he was using both hands to keep his leverage.

"You will lose fingers like that. Again."

This time when he swung, Kuro was caught off guard, and though Wolf let up on the pressure to avoid harming him, the movement Kuro did manage had Kusabimaru sliding harmlessly down the length of his own blade. Not a terrible move, but unintentional, so nothing to praise.

"Faster. Again."

It had been going on for long before that, and went on long after, again and again, until Kuro grew tired and too slow and Wolf called for a break. He was not a kind teacher, nor a cruel one; he remembered still the nightmare that was his own training with Owl and Lady Butterfly, and would never wish that upon anyone, let alone Kuro. So he halted in his onslaught and stepped back, sheathing Kusabimaru, and watched Kuro mirror him carefully.

"I'm hungry," Kuro sighed as he flopped onto the floor on his back, and the old rotted floorboards creaked beneath him. "My arms ache. And my legs. And everything."

It was more conversational than a complaint, though Wolf quirked an eyebrow. It had not been long since they had breakfast together. "Your legs?" he echoed. "We need to work on your form, then."

"You told me it was fine," Kuro protested, and that was true - it was not perfect, but enough to hold his ground.

"But if it is causing you pain - "

"It's not," Kuro said quickly, then clarified, "I mean, I don't think so? My legs have been aching for a while."

"A while? You have not mentioned it."

Kuro sat up to address him properly, and Wolf settled cross-legged across from him. "A day or so," he admitted, and oh, that would be why - they were not talking at the time. "It's not the worst pain. I mean, it doesn't feel like something I should worry about. It's just uncomfortable."

And suddenly Wolf had an inkling suspicion. "And have you often been hungry so soon after meals?"

"Well, I don't want to eat all our rations - "

"They're growing pains," Wolf said simply. "We will make sure you eat extra."

"Growing pains?" And then Kuro was leaping to his feet. "Wolf, stand up!"

It took every ounce of self-control in his body to not roll his eyes, but Wolf obeyed, and watched with amusement as Kuro sized him up, then stepped closer and drew an invisible line with his hand from the top of his head to Wolf's bicep.

"I'm almost up to your shoulder!" Kuro announced triumphantly, bouncing on his heels. Kuro liked to say he was growing, but actions like this showed he was still a child - but that was okay. Wolf would not complain that he was still young and bright. "I bet someday I'll be taller than you!"

Wolf could hardly help his scoff. Everyone grew taller than him. Emma, and more recently Aurelio, were the only people he had met in his life to break this rule. No doubt Kuro would join the majority, for he still had plenty of growing to do, though as little as he was Wolf wondered if perhaps he would not manage to be very much taller.

"If you are still that energetic," Wolf said instead of addressing the taunt, "we can keep training."

Immediately Kuro pouted, then clapped his hands together in a plea. "Can we eat first? I really am hungry."

He truly was so young. Were it not for the fresh memory of the dragon's reassurances - he is growing, he will not always be so little or naive - Wolf would wonder if he was making the right decision, accepting to teach him like this. Relenting, he said, "We will need to get more food from the village."

The last one they had stopped at was hardly large enough to be called a village, and had little to spare; this one was larger, but overpopulated, so there had been no beds available at the inn. Wolf hoped that did not extend to other resources.

A content quiet settled over them - not suffocating or tense like before but comfortable and perhaps a little tired - as they made their way down the rickety steps to the worn dirt path. The shrine was clearly long-abandoned, any sign of the deity it was meant to worship long gone, and the damage looked an awful lot like someone had attempted to burn it to the ground and failed miserably. Though it was not an opportune shelter, it would work as a roof over their heads; when Wolf had asked around, all of the inns claimed to be packed.

And there was . . . something about the place. Something that Wolf could not place a finger on, but did not seem overly threatening. It did, however, nag at his curiosity.

The market was a little thing, but active nonetheless, and thankfully a farmer or two had plenty of surplus to sell. It was almost a surprise that Kuro's stomach never rumbled during his ogling of various fruits and vegetables, and after a brief exchange where Wolf confirmed he planned on them staying for a day or two, Kuro managed to convince him that they should make a stew. Something they could not keep leftovers of, but that would not matter if they were lingering long enough to finish it off - and there had been a ceremonial firepit by the altar that they could use for a safe flame.

As such, Wolf was persuaded to purchase spices and a pot to cook it all in. Though it was large and not very mobile, it was cheap enough that neither would be heartbroken to leave it behind, although it would be inconvenient. Perhaps, however, bringing Kuro to the market on an empty stomach had been a mistake, for soon he was eyeing a stall laden with sweets.

And Wolf thought he had the sweet tooth. It had been too long since he had allowed himself sugar, and his mouth watered at the thought; judging by the sly look Kuro shot him when asking if they could get some, the little fiend knew exactly what he was doing.

"Two of those," Kuro was saying, because Wolf at least understood that much Mandarin, "and two of those, please!"

And of course the baker was absolutely charmed by him where Wolf was exasperated, wrapping a few cream puffs and raspberry tarts in thin paper and chatting quite animatedly with him. Wolf understood very little, but when the conversation turned sour, he was immediately attentive.

"I saw you two come through last night - have you a safe place to stay?"

"Yes, ma'am. We're settled in the shrine up the hill."

She froze at that, hand hovering awkwardly between them as she held the package out toward him, but too close to herself for him to comfortably take it. "That old place? Surely I could find you a spare bed or two here. There's no need to go out there."

"We wouldn't want to trouble you." Kuro held his hand out politely, but she still withheld the pastries a moment longer before placing them in his grasp. "We're doing just fine - usually we don't even have a roof!"

His attempt at a reassuring smile did not sway her, and even if Wolf did not understand the words he could pick up on her growing agitation. Subtly, he moved closer to Kuro, prepared to . . . to do something, if things went awry, but he could not fathom what.

"Oh," she replied, unconvinced and still fretting, "oh, dear. A sweet boy like you really shouldn't be up there. There's - there's danger at night, you know? You should stay in the village."

Curiously, no such concern for Wolf - not even a glance sent his way. Smiling tightly, Kuro bowed and assured her, "We can handle it. Thank you for the food."

They left her there, wringing her hands and staring nervously after them, and Wolf did not miss how the other stall owners whispered behind their fans and watched them go. Not them - Kuro. Kuro, who was quick to fill Wolf in on the details once they were on the path and out of earshot, and once out of sight of any villagers he dropped his polite façade to worry at his lower lip.

"What do you think that's about, Wolf?"

What indeed. Wolf hummed low in his throat in response, deep in thought. Clearly, something about the shrine unsettled the villagers, and judging by the damage something terrible had happened there. Danger, the baker had said, so painfully vague, eyes only on Kuro. What sort of danger? The sort of danger that would assault a shrine and deface its deity?

But that was the problem - it did not feel dangerous there. A rotting shell of a building was not exactly welcoming, but Wolf's intuition had kept him safe and at an advantage for years, and nothing about the place gave off any sort of warning. What was it she had been talking about?

"Perhaps an old legend passed down among the villagers," Wolf suggested. The look Kuro shot him was not entirely convinced.

"Would they be that worked up over a legend?" Of course Kuro had a point - Wolf was not overlooking that. He simply had little other explanation. "I don't know. I don't feel threatened there, but the people seem nice enough. Would they lie to us?"

They had no reason to, of that much Wolf was certain. If they claimed it was dangerous, even if untrue, they certainly believed it; an entire village so worried about holing up inside at night rather than risking danger under the moonlight would be an awful lot of effort to keep up a ruse.

"If there is danger," Wolf replied, a hint of finality in his tone, "I suppose we will find out." The only threat Wolf had any personal concern for was the possibility of encountering the emperor's soldiers again.

"Right." Kuro did not sound too confident, however, when he added, "I'm sure it's nothing we can't handle."

Wolf would prove him right - he would not see Kuro harmed again.

It was as Wolf was attempting to teach Kuro to strike a flint that a chill raced up their spines, and they both froze.

And then a voice called out to them in the dark, "You know this shrine is haunted, right?"

Curiously, despite the intrusion, despite how Wolf had a habit of literally leaping to the defensive, he only turned his head to survey their observer.

A woman stood at the door, and the first thing Kuro noticed was how terribly impractical her clothes seemed; fancy fabrics draped over her lithe form in a rather wasteful fashion Kuro had never seen before, not even on the locals, and her long, flowing red hair was not even held back by any sort of tie. It was a marvel there were no tangles to be seen. Her face was quite lovely, her skin pale and eyes large and innocuous, and her pink lips were curved in a delicate, polite little smile.

All in all, she looked very out of place in the temple.

"That has yet to be seen," Wolf replied coolly. He did finally stand, but there was something in his relaxed posture that did not seem right. "Assuming you are not a spirit."

The laugh the woman gave sounded almost baffled, perhaps even offended; she tossed a few fiery strands over one shoulder, and the motion seemed to catch Wolf's eyes. "Sounds like you've just been lucky." Was that irritation in her tone? "I have a much safer place for you to stay, if you'll just follow me."

Well, that was not suspicious at all. Not to mention she was speaking near-perfect Japanese, yet did not look like any Japanese person Kuro knew - where in the world had she learned it? But Wolf only gave a noncommittal noise, and Kuro found himself tugging urgently on the shinobi's sleeve.

"The child can come, too," the stranger cooed, though the look she offered Kuro was loaded with disdain; the corners of her mouth twitched as though it was taking every ounce of her composure not to scowl at him.

"Wolf?" he whispered, but Wolf only spared him an inscrutable glance.

"It would be rude to deny her," he said.

The words were simple - the hint of suggestion in them was not, and Kuro desperately wished he could tell exactly what it was Wolf was trying to say. The dragon's claws tightened around his shoulder - it was unsettled, too - and he found himself trailing helplessly behind as Wolf began to approach the woman. She drifted just out of reach as he came close, hand falling away from the doorframe, and seemed to almost float backward down the steps, her fingers crooking slightly in a beckoning gesture as a smile played at her lips.

Something was definitely wrong - but her honeyed tone had his muscles relaxing when she said, "That's it. Just keep following me." A forced relaxation, one that the dragon dispelled with another squeeze at his shoulder so hard its claws pricked his skin, and Kuro darted forward to take Wolf's hand.

"Wolf," he hissed urgently, and the woman fixed an irate gaze on him. Her mouth opened, but Wolf spoke before she could get a word in.

"She will not hurt us," Wolf murmured to him, and the woman's deep frown curled back into a more relaxed smile, and Kuro desperately wished he could believe the shinobi was speaking for himself, rather than under her influence.

"Good," she purred. "You listen well. Nothing like that pesky little brat."

Wolf's hand slipped from his as she approached, and Kuro realized with a start just how far they had wandered down the path away from the shrine. They stood somewhere between the dilapidated structure and the village, far from any sort of safety - though Kuro wondered if any place was safe with this . . . was she truly a woman? Was she human? The dragon's snarl ringing through his head clear as his own thoughts told Kuro this thing was most certainly not a person.

"Honestly," she said, voice sweet like honey but sour as though it had aged, "I know I'm new at this, but you're only a kid."

He wanted to creep backward as she inched forward, but found he could not move. The dragon's hackles rose, he could feel it in the tension of its grip around his shoulders, but there did not seem to be much else it could do.

"Why is it you aren't swayed? What is it about you? You are human, aren't you?"

When had his feet frozen? When had he become rooted in place? Why hadn't he at least brought his katana with him?

"I guess I can get rid of you like this - I hate to be this messy, though."

And then a sword cut through the air between them, the woman recoiling, stumbling back several steps.

"That's close enough."

The woman glared down the bridge of her nose Wolf, an unflattering mixture of irritation and shock scrawled all over her features. Kuro almost failed to stifle the urge to hide behind the shinobi; were it not for his own growing irritation, he likely would have succumbed, even as he spent so much time insisting he was too mature for such things.

"What took you so long?" Kuro found himself snapping, and though he felt the dragon's hot breath huff disapprovingly against his ear Wolf did not seem nearly as offended.

"I had to get her away from the shrine," he explained, and it almost stung, how unthreatened Wolf sounded when Kuro had been terrified just moments before - still was, if he was to be honest. Turning his attention to the woman, Wolf added coolly, "I couldn't have you trying to burn it down again, fox."

Her scowl turned into something even uglier when Kuro whipped his head back around to stare. Something inhuman, her mouth stretching wide, eyes slanting - but she composed herself a minute later with a deep breath and complained, "Are you kidding me? Both of you resisted? This has to be some kind of cosmic joke."

None of them were laughing. Wolf stepped closer, and curiously, Kuro watched the creature fold her arms and draw into herself, eyes wary. "Show us your true form."

"I think I just misjudged you," she said evasively, ignoring his command. And then she changed before their very eyes - a more pronounced nose, thinner lips, smaller eyes, and the figure under the odd clothing flattened and broadened. The voice that came out now was deeper, and . . . he? He continued, "You prefer the company of men, right?"

He drew closer, and appallingly, Wolf allowed him to - up until he was close enough to point Kusabimaru at the creature's throat. "I do not prefer any company of that sort," he growled, finally seemingly displeased with the stranger's antics, who held his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes. "Now show me who you really are."

Kusabimaru pressed harder against his throat, and the creature moved so quickly Kuro almost missed it - he leapt backward away from the blade, somersaulting in the air, and as he spun Kuro watched him change. The fabrics fell away and vanished to reveal a simple off-white toga of sorts, the flowing locks receded into a shaggy mop of hair that covered much of the creature's eyes, and its body shrunk to that of a small child's, perhaps Kuro's age - maybe a tad younger.

He was still presenting notably boyishly when he landed on his toes, the impact light and totally silent, and he shook his shaggy hair out of his face to reveal piercing green eyes and long, long lashes. Two fluffy, bright orange ears with black tips sprouted from amongst his mop of hair, and a similar tail flicked in irritation behind him.

"Am I to trust this is the real you?" Wolf asked, and the - the child? He scoffed and settled his hands on his hips.

"What does it matter who I really am?" And oddly enough, there was hurt laced in the words, and his eyes narrowed. "I can be whoever I want."

"A kitsune?" Kuro's head spun at the idea - another Japanese demon, so far inland of China? But the fox scowled at that.

"As if! Those little offshoots have nothing on real foxes like me." His tail lashed at the mere suggestion. "I am a húli jīng, and I'm a far greater fox than even the strongest of those little pests!"

A Chinese demon, yet it knew Japanese anyway? Perhaps there were greater forces at play than the lines between nations - but Kuro could not dwell on it at the moment.

"Yet you hide behind a human form," Wolf pointed out, and it rounded on him, teeth bared. Little fangs showed among them, and were it not for how very threatening the creature had seemed only a minute before, Kuro might have found it cute. "You have never hurt a human." How could he possibly know that? "Why start with us? We have done you no wrong."

"What, are you trying to get my whole life story?" the fox snapped, crossing his little arms. "If you're not going to kill me, I'll just. . . I'll go. Sorry for trying to kill you, or whatever."

There was something so pitiful in his voice, something almost shameful in the way he averted his gaze, and Kuro could not help but ask, "Where will you go?"

"Wherever I want," the fox replied bitterly, turning away. "You two aren't worth the trouble."

He leapt into the air again, performing another flip, and before their very eyes russet fur sprouted all over his body and he shrunk even further. The creature that landed was a vixen, smaller than any Kuro had ever seen, and when she turned back to glance at them Kuro was startled to see a skull fitted over her head - a human skull that was missing its jaw and that her snout poked out of, despite Wolf's claim that she had never harmed a human, and those same narrow green eyes glared through the sockets.

"Wait," Kuro found himself calling out when she turned to the tree line. When she tilted her head at him, he faltered, but finally said, "We're . . . going to be making a lot of food, and there'll be a fire. If you want to join us . . . "

The fox's gaze lingered for a second longer, and then she darted off the path and vanished into the undergrowth. At her disappearance, Wolf sheathed Kusabimaru with practiced ease, shaking his head, and turned back up the path to the shrine.

"Wolf?"

"I'm sorry," Wolf automatically apologized, having the sense to look ashamed of himself. "I did not mean to scare you. I could not risk alerting the fox to my plan - "

"No," Kuro interrupted, "that's not it. I mean, it's okay. Just . . . "

Wolf spared him a glance from the corner of his eye. "Just?" he pressed.

"She mentioned something about resisting," Kuro mused. "I guess the dragon kept me safe, but what about you?"

Almost as soon as he spoke the wonder aloud, he knew the answer, and the way Wolf's shoulders tensed only confirmed his worry. "It seems," he answered carefully, "that despite Shura being very worthy of concern, its interest in me has its perks."

Kuro wished that was reassuring, but there was little to be done, and little to achieve by fretting over it for long. Still, he took the time to reach for Wolf's hand and squeeze it reassuringly - they would figure it out.

"And . . . " Kuro paused, searching for words. "You said she hadn't hurt anyone. How did you know?"

"A guess," Wolf replied, "but a likely one. She is very young, and very inexperienced."

"She had that skull."

"We do not know where she got it."

It held up, anyway - it explained why her disguises seemed so very out-of-place. The húli jīng was very clearly not familiar with any recent customs in China - or anywhere, for Kuro could not think of a single place in any of his studies that presented themselves in such a way. Her method of dress and unnaturally pristine looks were far too out of place to fool anyone without her magic; without her sway, Kuro could see straight through her.

And she truly did seem so young, and as though she was hiding a terrible sadness. Kuro knew she had been attempting to lead them to their deaths, but still . . .

"I wonder what happened to her. Do you think she's what the villagers were worried about?"

"Most likely." They made their way up the creaky steps of the shrine; their uncooked food lay cold and untouched still.

"There's more to her story, isn't there?"

"I am sure."

" . . . do you think she'd tell us?"

Wolf gave a low hum in his throat that did not sound particularly hopeful. A sigh escaped Kuro's lips, and as the dragon wreathed comfortably around his shoulders, they settled before the firepit once more for Kuro to attempt to spark the flint.

He had not been successful before, and was not successful now; with every attempt by Wolf to correct his technique he only grew more frustrated. Not only was he not very good in the first place, but now his thoughts were plagued by the fox, a distracting blend of wariness and concern for it keeping his mind wandering, and on one particularly rough strike he managed to pinch a finger between the rock and flint. He almost swore aloud, but barely managed to hold it in, and Wolf's hands stretched outward to take the flint.

Before Kuro could protest - he wanted to learn, he had to figure out sometime, Wolf could not do everything for him - there was a blur of orange and a flash of green and a wave of heat, and Kuro scrambled back from the firepit as it seemed to ignite completely on its own.

Seated on the other side of the fire atop an old, creaky altar, was none other than the fox.

"I could have done that myself," Kuro protested. Suddenly aware of how ridiculous he must have looked, he righted himself to kneel more properly before the fire, and the fox tossed her head.

"Sure didn't look like it to me."

She spoke differently than the dragon did, but strangely nonetheless; it was decidedly verbal, with both Wolf and Kuro hearing her clearly, but her mouth did not even open to make a sound. Her fluffy tail curled delicately over her paws, and she nodded toward the pot of cold ingredients.

"You don't even have the food ready for me?"

"Well, aren't you pushy," Kuro grumbled, but offered a smile to counter his tone.

Because she looked so comfortable on the altar, and with the angle Kuro viewed her at, she aligned perfectly with the destroyed statue - save for the skull fitted on her head.

The villagers had worshipped her here - and whatever had changed, whatever they had done to her, they desperately feared the repercussions.

Perhaps they should, Kuro thought bitterly. Whatever she had considered doing to them, his own instincts (and the dragon's lack of concern at her presence) told him she was not a violent or aggressive creature. She would not be the first demon they had met thus far with a personality far more complex than local legends would have them believe. Kuro doubted she would be the last.

But he would not push. Not with the hesitant, delicate peace between them - not with her belly rumbling almost inaudibly as the food began to emit a warm aroma. How long had she gone without eating before growing desperate enough to turn to humans for sustenance?

"Stop looking at me like that," she snapped, and Kuro was jolted from his thoughts. "Don't think I've totally abandoned the idea of eating you instead!"

"That would be unwise," Wolf spoke up from his place over the pot, and the fox let out an irate little growl.

"Húli," Kuro said, and then paused. "Can I call you Húli? Or do you have a name you prefer I use?"

"Wh - " The question gave her pause, as though she had not considered the idea of being addressed directly. "I guess? I don't have a name."

"Just you wait, Húli. The soup will taste way better than we ever would!"

She left out a little huff at that, but settled down comfortably to wait.