Dappled moonlight shimmered on the blood splashed across the forest floor. A body laid at the base of a tree, dozens of slashes ripped through the clothes and flesh. Sanemi raced faster, following the trail and the sound of frantic battle up ahead. He had been camping in the woods off the main road while on a journey to return to his estate after a mission in a rural village when screaming had interrupted his sleep.
Not exactly how he wanted to wake up.
Maybe it was bandits. Or thieves. Demons weren't the only evil things in the world, and they weren't numerous.
Sanemi broke into a clearing where a small ramshackle wayside shelter sat back from the main road. A fire held without a ring of stones crackled in front of the small rotten porch, and through the firelight he saw a man go down, a gurgling cry ripping from his ravaged throat.
The fire popped. Embers sprayed into the air. Laughter sprang out of the darkness, unexpected and enraging. He could feel that familiar anger spread throughout him as he unsheathed his blade.
"Sing a song before you die, little swan," a quiet melodic voice begged, "Or scream. It's like a song. Your final one."
White cloth glowed in the firelight as a hand reached into the fire, drawing out a flaming stick of wood. A young woman with long loose black hair stood up and for less than a second, he met her gaze as he rushed forward, closing the distance. Her frightened eyes reflected the firelight before she spun back around, the stick slamming into the demon's head as it lunged at her, knife-like fingers raking across her arm and side even as she hit it.
The demon, a freakishly thin skeletal thing, stumbled and howled, unhinging its jaw to drop its mouth open farther.
With a cry, the woman lashed out again, erratic and desperate, as Sanemi leapt through the flames. The woman jerked back. Immediately, the demon dropped to the ground and skittered away from the demon slayer. Too late. Sanemi's blade cut through the air and the demon's neck as he flew forward, quick and deadly.
The severed head thumped against the ground.
Sanemi's lip curl in disgust as the demon's eyes continued to look around and its mouth opened and closed. Sanemi wiped his blade off on its grey clothing. As it disintegrated, it let out a wheezing shriek.
He turned his back to the demon as it continued to fall apart. The woman was still holding the piece of firewood, flames dancing across the top. Sanemi stepped forward, sheathing his blade. She hauled the stick backward, eyes wild but determined.
"Stop," she said, the stick wobbling.
"Are you going to hit me if I don't?" he asked, but he did stop. She was hurt. Dark patches were spreading across the right side of her kimono and her right sleeve, but she wasn't backing down.
"Yes," she replied curtly. "I hit that other thing, I'd take my chances against you."
He snorted. "You could try."
Her eyes darted to the demon and then back to Sanemi. She looked terrified and angry and defiant all at the same time. The stick dipped, but she brought it right back up. "What was that? Who are you?"
"You don't really want to know either of those things," he said, his tone as sharp as hers. "Trust me."
Her kimono, even ripped and stained, looked expensive. There was a small palanquin sitting in the shadow of the shack. And she apparently had guards. Not good ones, but then again, they had been up against a demon and at least one hadn't died immediately. There were two more bodies beside the one in the forest and the one by the fire. She could go right back to her fancy rich girl life after this.
"I don't," she said, and then clarified, "Trust you."
"After I saved your life?"
"Thank you," she snapped, "But no. You won't even tell me about what you saved me from."
"All right. It doesn't matter to me." He glared at her. "You're bleeding. Badly."
"I know. I'll…fix it."
Sanemi rolled his eyes and glanced around the clearing. "With what?" Before she could answer, he nodded toward the main road. "There's a doctor in the next village. I'll take you there."
"No," she said. She lifted the stick higher. The wind caught her hair, strands of it drifting across her face. "I'm not going."
"Then you'll die here," he said. He clenched his jaw. "And I didn't save you just so you could die, idiot."
"I'm not going to die," she said mulishly. "Your efforts weren't wasted." Her gaze jumped to the demon again, and she shifted away, instinctively trying to get farther from it even though it was turning to ash.
"Go ahead and bleed out, then," he said, but he was watching her, waiting for her to pass out so he could haul her off to the doctor's house.
The woman straightened, her back rigid. "You're really not going to tell me what it is?"
"It's dead, how's that?"
"Lovely," she said, lowering the stick. She looked at the dead guards and then at the palanquin. "Are there more of them?"
"Most likely no." Demons didn't frequently travel in packs. Occasionally they did, like that spider Lower Moon family Kochou and Tomioka had dealt with a couple weeks ago, but it was extremely rare.
He stared as she tossed the stick in the fire and instead knelt down beside the dead guard. She closed his eyes and picked up his sword before walking away from Sanemi, heading for the palanquin. "What are you doing?"
She didn't turn around. "Walking."
His blood boiled. She was infuriating. "Put down the sword."
"I need it," she said.
"You can't even use it, can you?" He started toward her.
Now she turned around, bringing up the sword, completely untrained. "Don't come any closer." She was like a feral cat, all claws and hissing.
Again, Sanemi stopped, a growl getting through his gritted teeth. "This is ridiculous."
"Just let me go," she said, an edge of pleading sneaking into her steely tone. "I appreciate you saving my life, now leave me alone."
"I'm not holding you here," he said, exasperated. Was she crazy? Was the pain making her irrational? "But your wounds—"
"Aren't your problem," she said. She walked backward toward the palanquin, holding the sword out with two shaky hands. "You just said I could go ahead and bleed to death."
"You want to die here?" he snarled.
"I don't want to be here at all," she said. She bumped against the palanquin and winced, leaning to her right. "And I'm not going to the next village. I'm going somewhere else, anywhere else."
"You're not making sense."
She pursed her lips. "And you won't tell me what that monster was or who you are. Which also doesn't make sense." The sword nearly dropped out of her grip as she used one hand to wave around at the gruesome scene surrounding them. "I'm half convinced I'm in a nightmare."
"It's better if you think of it that way," he said, "Now. Let me take you—"
The woman made a frustrated sound and pointed the sword at him again. "Touch me and I'll take your hand off."
Sanemi almost laughed. "You're not serious."
"…At least the tips of your fingers." She settled back against the palanquin. Sweat had broken out across her forehead, and she was breathing quicker.
"Why are you willing to die instead of going to the next village?"
"Not dying," she said, her head drooping forward. Her hair, so long it was almost ridiculous, fell over her shoulder. "I don't know him."
"He's just a doctor," Sanemi grumbled.
"No. He's—not him…" She lowered the sword. The tip dipped into the dirt. "Not him."
Sanemi frowned, tensing. She was fading. "Who, then?"
The woman blinked and shook her head. "I won't go."
Yes, he was aware. The hilt of the sword slipped from her hand. One moment Sanemi was beside the fire and the next he was catching her as she fell, one arm under her knees and the other behind her back.
Gray. Her eyes were gray like storm clouds.
She went limp in his arms. It wasn't that far to the next village. He could take her there, unburden himself, get rid of the stubborn creature.
"Tell the Kakushi to come deal with this," Sanemi said into the darkness. In a nearby tree, Sorai cawed and took wing, a spot of ink black against the night shadows. Cursing, he pulled the woman closer and raised his voice. "And let Kochou know I'm bringing her a new patient."