Chapter Two
The Master and His Hound
Eighty years had passed since Inu had walked through the door that would forever change his life. What awaited him then was a leash, both literal and figurative, forged by the cunning hands of the man who called himself Bosu. And though the years had worn away the face of that first master, the leash had remained—unyielding, binding him to whoever claimed the mantle next.
Inu still lived in servitude, though the rules were the same only in principle. The faces, the voices, the hands holding his leash—they changed with the passage of time. His first master, the original Bosu, had kept Inu as his greatest secret weapon, using him sparingly to maintain his hold on power. That man had been clever, calculating, and brutal when necessary. Yet even his cunning couldn't halt the inevitability of age. After twenty years, Bosu passed on, leaving Inu behind.
But Inu was not freed. Instead, the title of "Bosu"—and the leash tethering Inu to servitude—was handed to one of the old man's most trusted followers. This succession became the pattern of Inu's life: each Bosu passing their "dog" to the next heir, a chain of masters stretching across decades. Twice, Inu's leash had been forcibly taken by rivals who killed their predecessors to seize power. Those two masters, though brutal, lacked the cunning of the original Bosu. Their reigns were brief, lasting less than a decade each before they, too, were swept away by death or betrayal.
Through it all, Inu endured. The collar, imbued with a subjugation spell by the monk who first crafted it, ensured his compliance. All it took was a whispered incantation, and Inu would be brought to his knees, no matter his strength or will. Over the years, he had learned that rebellion—whether through disobedience or even a stray thought—was not worth the consequences. The sting of the collar's magic had trained him thoroughly, and he had long since stopped questioning his role.
To Inu, life was simple: he was a tool, wielded at his master's will. His masters fed him, sheltered him, and gave him purpose. As long as he obeyed, there was no pain, no ridicule, no uncertainty. Even the cruelest Bosu could be tolerated under such circumstances. Any complaints he might have once had were silenced long ago, both by the lash and by the slow erosion of his own spirit.
The current Bosu, however, was unlike the others. He was younger, more ambitious, and far more reckless. Where past masters had kept Inu hidden—a shadowy force whispered about in rumors but rarely seen—this Bosu reveled in the power Inu represented. He flaunted his "dog" on rare occasions, using him to intimidate rivals and secure his growing empire. Yet even this Bosu understood the value of discretion; while Inu's existence was not entirely a secret, he ensured that few lived to spread tales of what they had seen.
Bosu's empire was built on fear, plunder, and calculated brutality. His underlings pillaged villages and strongholds alike, bringing riches and resources to their master. But despite the throngs of followers who sang Bosu's praises, he trusted no one. No one except Inu, who knelt silently by his side, awaiting orders. Inu was the ultimate weapon—a living blade Bosu could unsheathe at a moment's notice. And Bosu intended to keep that weapon sharp and hidden until the moment it would make the greatest impact.
Inu's room was tucked away in the darkest corner of Bosu's fortress, far from prying eyes. Visitors and underlings were forbidden to see him, and Bosu often whispered warnings to his closest lieutenants: "No one lays eyes on my dog unless I will it. Those who do, do not live to speak of it." The few who dared to question why Bosu guarded Inu so jealously rarely asked twice.
One day, however, rumors began to circulate among Bosu's men. Inu, hidden away as always, overheard the whispers from the adjoining corridor. There was talk of an artifact—an object of immense power that could grant its bearer any desire. Some said it was a relic of the gods; others claimed it was the work of a powerful demon. Whatever the truth, the artifact had become a subject of fascination for Bosu.
"Anything I desire…" Bosu murmured to himself when the rumor was brought to his attention. His eyes gleamed with ambition. "Send the men to investigate. I want to know if it's real. And if it is, I'll have it."
Bosu's underlings scrambled to obey, but Inu remained silent, as he always did. He knelt in his chamber, his head bowed, listening to the muffled sounds of the fortress coming to life. He was not privy to the specifics of Bosu's schemes, but he didn't need to be. Whatever plans his master had, Inu knew his role would be the same as it had always been: a tool to be used when the time came, unleashed only when Bosu deemed it necessary.
Inu had no opinions on the artifact, no thoughts of what such power might mean for the world—or for himself. He had learned long ago that thoughts of freedom or change were pointless. He was bound, not just by the collar around his neck but by the years of subjugation that had shaped him. To question his place was to invite pain.
For now, he waited. The leash remained in Bosu's hands, and until it was pulled, Inu would remain still, silent, and obedient.
o - o - o - o - o
Weeks and months passed, and finally, one night, a man returned to deliver news to Bosu of the Shikon Jewel. "It is true!" the man exclaimed, his face alight with urgency. "A jewel of infinite power is held by a priestess for protection. It is said she does so to purify the jewel."
"Purify it?" Bosu questioned, scratching the stubble on his chin with intrigue. He leaned back, letting the weight of the words settle before prodding further. "What do ye mean, purify?"
"The jewel is supposed to grant a wish when it is pure. Any wish, I guess," the man replied, his voice lowering as though the weight of such power humbled him. "Apparently, some yōkai taijiya entrusted it into the priestess's care because demons are drawn to it, and only she has the power to purify it."
"Demons, ye say?" Bosu murmured, his brows furrowing. He drummed his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his expression unreadable as he mulled over the information. After a long pause, he leaned forward, his voice cutting through the silence. "Send for Onigumo."
"Yes, Bosu," the man responded, tapping his knuckles to his forehead in deference before hurrying off. Moments later, the messenger reappeared with another man in tow. This newcomer was younger, with dark brown eyes that gleamed with mischief and a smirk to match.
"Onigumo," Bosu said, his tone even. "I want ye to take a team of the boys and handle this priestess."
"Yes, Bosu. And the Shikon Jewel?" Onigumo asked, his smirk fading slightly as he sought clarification.
"What of it?" Bosu replied lazily, resting his chin in his hand, his gaze fixed on Onigumo with detached interest.
Onigumo hesitated, his brows knitting in confusion. "Bring it back, right? So we can wish for anything we want…?"
Bosu's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, the weight of his authority pressing down on the room. "Yer orders are to take care of the priestess and the jewel along with her," he said, his voice low but firm.
"But, Bosu," Onigumo pressed, his tone pleading, "think of what we… you could do with that kind of power!"
"Enough!" Bosu thundered, his voice reverberating through the room. He extended a hand, silencing the young bandit with a single gesture. "What use do I have for wishes, ne? Do I not have all I need? All the power? All the respect I could want?" His eyes bored into Onigumo, daring him to challenge his words. "I do not tolerate questions, and I will not tolerate competition if someone else gets their hands on that jewel."
With a dismissive wave, Bosu signaled for him to leave. "Now go."
Onigumo's jaw tightened as he bowed sharply. Without another word, he turned and left. Bosu watched him go, his expression unreadable, before motioning for the messenger to step forward. "See that it is done," he said softly.
The messenger knuckled his forehead again before exiting. As he rounded the exterior of the building, a shadow moved behind him. A hand clamped over his mouth, and he felt a sharp, precise pressure glide across his throat. His attempt to cry out emerged as a wet gurgle, his life spilling down his neck and soaking his kosode. He collapsed to his knees, clutching at his throat in vain before slumping to the ground, lifeless.
Onigumo crouched beside the body, ensuring the man was truly dead before dragging him into a nearby shed. He glanced around, his actions impulsive yet calculated, and disappeared into the night.
o - o - o - o - o
Bosu kept to his quarters, his infamous hound the subject of whispered tales. Everyone knew of Inu, but no one had ever seen him. Some said he was a white-haired dog as large as a wolf; others claimed he was no dog at all, but a man. Even Bosu's closest confidants had no idea. Whether Inu was man or beast mattered little—what mattered was the fear of Bosu unleashing him.
When no one else was around, Bosu would call Inu from his hidden rooms. Tonight was no exception. Bosu placed a dish of food at the foot of his chair, then sat back, gesturing for Inu to eat. The creature obeyed, devouring the meal with the urgency of a starving dog, gulping without chewing. As Inu ate, Bosu reached down, stroking his white hair like that of a beloved pet.
"Good boy," Bosu murmured.
Inu stopped suddenly, his head snapping up. His ears twitched, swiveling toward a faint sound only he could detect. He sniffed the air and rose to his feet, alert. "What is it, boy?" Bosu asked quietly, though he knew better than to expect a reply.
Inu darted to the far wall, pressing his ear against it. Whatever he heard confirmed his suspicions. Without warning, he leaped across the room, grabbing Bosu and hauling him up. Bosu let out a startled grunt as Inu carried him toward the hidden quarters, placing him securely behind his towering frame. Inu crouched, motionless, listening.
The hidden room was a sanctuary. Its location allowed Inu to monitor Bosu's living quarters undetected. He could hear every conversation, every shift of movement. His heightened senses could detect the subtlest hints of fear—or even the faint trace of poison. While the fear of Inu's existence deterred most, Bosu had learned to weaponize the hound's talents for the inevitable few who dared to challenge him. Inu was never allowed to leave his quarters unbidden unless Bosu's life was in immediate danger.
Muffled voices drifted from the main hall. Inu tilted his head, his sharp hearing discerning the conversation.
"Are you sure about this?" one voice asked.
"Yeah, I'm sure," another replied.
"This doesn't feel right, going against Bosu," a third voice whispered.
"Shhh!" someone hissed.
"The coward's run off with his dog," a familiar voice sneered. Inu's ears flattened, and Bosu stiffened.
"Onigumo," Bosu growled, venom dripping from his tone. "How could I have been so blind to his aspirations?" His words were more to himself than to Inu, for he never expected the hound to respond—and if Inu ever did, the consequences would be severe.
They listened as the mutinous voices continued.
"This doesn't feel right, Onigumo," one man said uneasily. "Bosu never did us wrong."
"You weren't saying that a minute ago," Onigumo snapped. "Bosu never did us wrong, huh? Keeping the Shikon Jewel all to himself? Hoarding that kind of power? He's selfish, that's what he is. Did you know he'd rather destroy the jewel than let us wish for everything our black hearts desire?"
Silence. Then, a hesitant voice muttered, "Still…"
"Do you want this payday or not?" Onigumo interrupted.
"I… suppose…"
"Good. If not, we'll cut you out—and that's more for us."
"What about the hound?" someone asked nervously.
"Yeah, Bosu's dog," another chimed in.
Onigumo laughed harshly. "You let me worry about that. Listen, have any of you ever seen the dog?"
The men glanced at one another. "Well… no," came the reluctant chorus.
"Exactly!" Onigumo roared. "Because the dog doesn't exist! It's just a trick to keep everyone scared. Well, I'm not scared anymore. Are you with me?"
A murmur of agreement grew into a triumphant cheer.
"Shut up, you idiots!" Onigumo snapped. The room quieted instantly. "We'll celebrate when it's done. First, we take out the priestess and grab the Shikon Jewel. With that, we'll wish for anything—everything. No one will stand in our way. Even if that damned dog were real, it wouldn't be able to stop us!"
The men cheered again, emboldened. "Can we celebrate now?" one asked.
"Fine. Celebrate all you want," Onigumo said with a wicked grin. "Get it out of your system."
From the hidden room, Bosu listened with a clenched jaw, his face twisted in rage. Inu crouched, his pale eyes gleaming with the anticipation of a predator waiting to strike.
The celebration lasted well into the late morning, but Bosu never slept. Inu sat silently in the corner of his tiny room, observing the scene. He could have easily dispatched all the men outside with a single swipe of his claws, but Bosu hadn't spoken since their earlier conversation had dwindled into silence. The older man seemed pensive, where Inu had expected anger—a rage he had witnessed countless times before. Not that it mattered to him. Bosu's thoughts were none of his concern.
By midday, the drunken revelers began to stir, gradually making their way out of Bosu's hall. Bosu remained seated, unmoving, until the last of them stumbled away. Only then did he rise—stooping under the low ceiling of Inu's cramped room—and signal for Inu to follow. "They all gone?" he asked gruffly.
Inu nodded. Without another word, Bosu gestured toward the door, indicating that Inu should lead the way. Cautiously, Inu stepped out, though he was certain the area was clear. Years of training had taught him not to question Bosu. Defiance brought punishment, and punishment was never mild.
When they reached the main hall, the sight stopped Bosu in his tracks. The room, once meticulously maintained, was now a wreckage of spilled drink, shattered dishes, and overturned furniture. Bosu surveyed the damage with a heavy sigh. "I should've seen the ambition in Onigumo," he muttered, his voice low. "That bastard was always too cunning, too conniving... I thought he might make a decent second." He bent down, picking up the fragmented remains of a ruined bowl, turning it over in his hand before hurling it against the floor. The shards scattered, punctuating his growing fury.
"Who the fuck do they think they're fucking with?!" Bosu roared, spittle flying from his mouth. His chest heaved as his voice echoed through the hall. "Have I not been good to them?! Generous, even?!"
For a moment, the hall fell silent, save for the buzzing of flies around the remnants of spilled food and drink. Then Bosu laughed—deep and unhinged, his mirth growing until he was breathless and sank onto the floor. Inu remained where he was, watching a fly land on the edge of a broken cup.
"Inu!" Bosu barked, snapping him from his thoughts. "Fetch me the gunpowder! If they want a fucking celebration, I'll give them one they'll never forget!"
Inu obeyed without question, retrieving the stash Bosu had ordered him to bury beneath the floor. Over the years, Bosu had amassed a hoard of valuables, hidden away in secret compartments that only Inu knew about. The gunpowder was stored in paper and bamboo wrappings to keep it dry, and Inu hated its acrid smell. Carefully, he dug out four small bags from beneath a false floor at the back of the house and laid them at Bosu's feet.
"Careful, you idiot!" Bosu snapped, snatching one of the bags. "This stuff's more delicate than you are!" Inu said nothing. He had lost his pride long ago, and Bosu's cutting words barely registered.
Under Bosu's direction, Inu placed the bags strategically around the ruined hall, tucking them out of direct sight. Bosu laid a thin trail of gunpowder from one of the bags to the base of a wall, dusting his hands with satisfaction once the work was done.
"Right," Bosu said, his tone lighter now. "Let's grab a bite to eat and wait for the boys to come crawling back. That cocky fool Onigumo doesn't have the brains or the balls to organize anything yet. Heh. I'll show him."
Bosu slapped Inu's head as he walked past. "Come, Inu," he said, chuckling to himself. But the promise of food was hollow. Inu followed silently as they moved outside the compound and into the treeline. Bosu climbed onto Inu's back, and with a leap, Inu settled them in the branches of a tall tree. As the sun began to set, Bosu stared intently at the compound below, while Inu's stomach growled faintly in protest. Bosu fed him sparingly, and tonight was no exception.
It wasn't long before men began trickling back to the compound, gathering around a bonfire to roast a wild boar—stolen, no doubt, since none of them were skilled hunters. Onigumo appeared, speaking quietly with a select few before retreating into the hall with them. Bosu's eyes narrowed, and he tapped Inu's head. Wordlessly, Inu leaped down from the tree and set Bosu on the ground just out of sight of the fire.
"Stay," Bosu ordered, his voice low. Inu crouched, watching as Bosu strode into the center of the group.
"Hello, boys," Bosu called, his tone deceptively calm. The men froze, some looking sheepish, others confused. "So, ye're not with me anymore?" he asked, placing a hand over his chest as if wounded. "Have I not treated ye well? Given ya everything you wanted? All I asked for was a little respect."
A few men exchanged guilty glances, while others stared blankly.
"Well," Bosu continued, a smile creeping onto his face, "ye have a choice. Come back into my fold... or share Onigumo's fate."
"Wh-what's Onigumo's fate?" one man stammered.
Bosu's grin widened. "How about I show ye?"
He walked over to the bonfire and plucked a burning branch, carrying it casually toward the hall. The men watched in tense silence as he knelt by the wall and laid the flame against the trail of gunpowder. "Anyone care to give yer old Bosu a hand?" he asked with a smirk.
Reluctantly, one man stepped forward and fanned the flame until it caught. The fire spread rapidly, licking up the wooden wall. As the flames consumed the structure, the men backed away, their expressions shifting from curiosity to horror.
The explosion came without warning, a deafening roar that sent a shockwave through the compound. Inu leaped away just in time, the force knocking him off balance as smoke and fire engulfed the hall. Screams echoed from inside, cut short by the flames. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, and Inu covered his nose, retreating further into the woods.
When the chaos subsided, Bosu's men stood in stunned silence, their eyes fixed on the smoldering ruins. Bosu, unbothered, strode toward the wreckage and ordered his men to search for Onigumo. It didn't take long before a shout rang out.
"Bosu! Over here!"
Bosu approached, peering down at the charred, barely alive body of Onigumo. His face was half-melted, one eye lidless and burning with hate. Bosu sneered. "Serves ye right, fucker."
Onigumo's ruined lips twitched into a weak, defiant grin. Bosu's smile vanished. "Throw him out with the rest of the trash," he said coldly, turning away.
The men carried Onigumo's body to a nearby precipice and tossed him over the edge. The sound of his fall echoed in the night.
"If the fire didn't kill him," one man muttered, "the fall surely did."
Bosu spat on the ground, his voice grim. "Good riddance."