Today, I take my first official step toward becoming a Guardian. I’ll request training with one of the senior League members ranking above my aunt, Nakamura Hisako.

Who would have thought a former yakuza like me would have the chance to be a part of the secretive League of Guardians? I don’t care what it takes. This is my best chance to make something of myself and have a future outside of the mob. I’m not going to waste it.

My aunt, my girlfriend—Ohno Suzu, young Suzuki Sojirou—who goes by Jiro now, and I all moved to Kyoto so we could learn more of what it meant to have natural magic inside us. We live with my aunt’s kitsune family. The kitsune are the mythical, shape-shifting foxes. To think that one of these beings would take me under their wing, let alone claim to be related, still blows me away.

Cantering along the forested hiking trail up Mt. Kurama, on the outskirts of Kyoto, Aunt Hisako and I keep out of sight as the sun descends in the sky. We ensure no one’s watching, bow before quickly ducking under a hidden torii gate just outside the tiny town named after the mountain, and lope into the realm of the sacred. Why didn’t we take the path to the temple?

My fur fluffs and the pads of my paws tingle upon contact with the path where the kami, the gods, have been. Since I gained kitsune magic, passing through these gates is intense, like suddenly smelling coffee again after having a severe cold. Is it something magic users get accustomed to?

Learning to shift shapes into a fox is my favorite of the new abilities I gained after receiving natural magic. It’s a childhood dream come true. The learning curve on the language of gestures for fox-kind has been steep, but worth any temporary embarrassment.

Magical signs, in an ancient scrawl, glow on the markers and torii gate. Aunt Hisako veers from the trail and scrabbles straight up the steep hillside. Following, I sift through the myths I memorized as a kid, stories of who might live on this mountain.

None of it provides a clue to who we’re visiting, though the nagging niggle in my mind says I ought to figure it out. No matter how often I ask, my aunt refuses to tell me.

She’s panting hard, and stumbles a few times, but she won’t slow down. My throat tightens. Is she pushing herself too hard? She hasn’t recovered from Date Sari breaking her hoshi no tama, the ball that holds her magic and spirit.

Do I dare disturb the tranquil silence of this sacred forest to ensure she’s ok? Pressing more speed into my lope and digging my claws into the hillside allows me to catch up. The barest whisper comes from my muzzle. “Aunt, do we need to rest?”

Her head jerks up and her black lips press together. Heaving in air, she flops to the forest floor. “A moment’s rest… won’t make us… late.”

To help her save face, I force my breathing to be a little harder. Truth be told, my muscles burn from the climb.

But one of her nine tails snaps my side. “Stop pretending, already.”

My head ducks. Aunt Hisako knows me too well. Our bantering relationship is a stark contrast to when I first met her and she ran over my toes with a shopping cart. Back then, she thought I would return to the criminal life. After I saved her and kept her secret about being a shape shifting fox spirit disguised as the prim dowager of Nonogawa, things changed.

Birds sweetly tweet in the cedars and cypress farther down the mountain, though none directly above as if to warn others of our presence as foxes. Aunt Hisako points out that we’re close to Lake Biwa, though several ridges bar the view.

When she’s caught her breath, I ask, “Should I carry you?”

Harrumphing, she sticks her nose in the air. “You will not drag me in like a wounded animal to the house of my master.”

Stubborn, prideful old fox! I’m just trying to help. “Aunt…”

“He’s expecting us. Let’s not keep him waiting.” Her lope isn’t as fast this time as she takes off.

Finally, we halt in front of a shimmering bubble that reflects the surrounding forest. Aunt Hisako flicks her head from one side to the other and sniffs as she trots around what must be some sort of force field.

Unless I look at it from the right angle, it’s invisible, blending in so perfectly one could bump right into it. Why does this teacher spend so much magic to hide from the world?

A twitch starts between my shoulders, telling me to get the heck out of here. The urge grows stronger every second, but it’s not my gut telling me something’s wrong. It’s artificial. If the magic was a sweetener, it would have a distinctive aftertaste.

“What are you looking for?” I ask, keeping close to her side. “This place gives me the creeps.”

She chuckles, then coughs. “The ward drives off humans. Sorry, I forgot to warn you. You’re the first human I’ve brought to meet this yokai.”

The population of powerful spirit beings, called yokai, has been dwindling the last few centuries. To meet a high-ranking one will be an incredible privilege.

When my aunt approaches a scraggly pine tree with a bare branch stripped of bark, she says, “Put your paw on this tree.”

We touch the wood and the strange shimmer retracts to reveal a walled in compound with a towering, gold filigreed gate and stout wooden doors. Whoa. Is that real? I reach out.

“Wait, Tatsuya! You’ll set off the alarms.” Her paw glows upon contact with the door, and it creaks open ever so slowly. Aunt Hisako mutters, “He could at least have one of his servants oil the hinges.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me who we’re meeting today?” It comes out as more of a whine than I intended.

“Soujou-bou. You’re familiar with the myths about him?” How she speaks his name is almost akin to being on a first name basis.

“The King of the Tengu?” And famous hermit priest. My voice raises before lowering to a more respectful volume. “You can’t be serious.” He’d be positively ancient! We’re talking in terms of millennia. He still teaches?

She pshaws as she trots inside. “After everything you’ve seen, you doubt my word?”

Quickly, I bob a bow. “Sorry. You’ve just been so…” Then my words cut off as I take in what lays beyond the gate.

This estate is so immaculate it could be a home for the Emperor himself. Stone paths, lined with trees that bow inward, lead to another enclosure with a tower. Enough buildings surround it to house an army. The secluded one is probably a teahouse. Such perfectly groomed grounds would draw everyone in Kyoto if it were a park open to the public. And tengu bird-men, ranging from raptors to ravens, scurry about the grounds as if every task is an important mission.

King of the Tengu, indeed!

“It’s not like I can talk about him in front of anyone else. This is League business. Anyway, if we hadn’t followed the exact path, we’d have walked right past this castle. Part of how he stays hidden even in this modern age with the temple, shrines, tram, hiking paths, and tourists sharing his mountain. It’s a liminal space of sorts.”

So Soujou-bou is part of the League of Guardians, the secretive group that protects Japan. Turning my head this way and that, I take in more of the vast estate. Dark wood buildings with their tiled roofs and golden cloud-peak ornaments contrast with the dusky winter sky.

Then a yellow-eyed crow squawks a greeting to us. He’s dressed in a pair of gray hakama and a dark blue kimono with white tie-dye patterns and sports an ancient style of starched silk hat.

My aunt beelines straight to him, bowing, then exclaiming, “Kairi-san! It’s been a while!”

Despite her warm greeting, he’s curt. “It has. But Soujou-sama is waiting. He will not be pleased.” Stiffly, Kairi leads us through the inner gate, grudgingly allowing us to wipe our paws at the entry. The winding maze of rooms has me lost and the polished wood floors announce every step with a loud creak. They’re nightingale floors, like I’d read about in Nijo Castle.

Our guide tucks his wings back and kneels to open the sliding panel before bowing and announcing us. “Great Tengu, they have arrived.”

A short man with gray wings at his back and a humorously long nose rises spryly from a meditative pose. He greets us with a scathing tone, but respectful actions. “Nakamura-san, you never were early, were you? And this is my prospective student?” His red ascetic monk’s robe and flowing white beard wave freely in the breeze trickling in from an open door. The view beyond hints at a picturesque rock garden raked into a swirling pattern.

My aunt’s ears twitch, but the jab about the rudeness of not being early bounces off her. “Soujou-sama, this is my nephew, Umeji Tatsuya.” She still breathes heavily but gives a deeper bow than I’ve seen her do before.

Next, the tengu king’s eyes narrow and his wings ruffle. “Let us see you in your original shape, boy. Your magic doesn’t quite match the kitsune form you present.”

He waves his feathered fan, popping me back into human shape. At least I had the sense to dress formally, in a navy suit and a tie that Su-chan picked out for me. Though, I still feel out of place. Besides my aunt and I, everyone else wears a kimono and hakama. It’s different from the streets of Kyoto, where you see the traditional clothing only occasionally.

Then Soujou-bou raises a bushy eyebrow. “Nakamura-san, why do you associate with a magic thief?”

“That is his story to tell, Soujou-sama. Know that I believe him,” she responds in a flat, neutral tone that raises my hackles. She’s never this submissive.

As I give a deep, reverent bow, he remarks, “Boy, Nakamura-san’s recommendation does not excuse the evil in which you’ve partaken. Why did you stoop so low and steal kitsune magic?”

My insides twist at having to contradict the tengu king right off the bat. Taking a deep breath, I keep it simple. “We did not steal it, sir.”

But he snaps, cutting through the air with his feather fan. “No one gives such a gift! It destroys the owner. If I do not find your explanation satisfactory, you’ll not leave my palace alive.”

The declaration sends a shiver down my spine and my words spill out. “The fox I was fighting was Date Sari. She’d repeatedly attacked me and Aunt Hisako because of an old grudge and used her magic for evil—mixing it with that of an oni to add to her power.

“When she attacked my girlfriend, I tried to stop Date without killing her by dispelling her abilities. We didn’t know it would split and settle into each of us. The kami judged Date for her actions and Inari Okami was merciful. He didn’t require us to return her magic or hoshi no tama, which would have killed us.

“My aunt gave me a chance to start again after leaving the yakuza, and I wish to honor her and follow in her footsteps.”

“Yakuza, you say?” His eyes flick to my aunt.

I whisper, “I have much to atone for, sir.” Pressing my palms together in front of me, I bow as low as I can and remain in the position as I ask, “Please, teach me so I can serve as a Guardian.”

“Humans aren’t suitable candidates. The fifty-year appointment uses up too much of your brief lives. I fear your criminal past prohibits you from forming the support network needed for working in a remote area like Nonogawa. Guardians don’t work alone, you know.”

Fifty years is a long time. But what Aunt Hisako taught me about the Guardians calls to me more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. And I can rely on Su-chan, Satou, Matsuo, and probably Mie.

“This would be for the rest of my life.” Fitting for my atonement. “And, yes, at first, I had a hard time in such a small town, because the rumor mill picked up news of my mobster tattoos before I could prove I won’t go back.

“Some in Nonogawa may never accept me. That’s part of the price I pay for my past. But there are a handful of friends I trust. I’ll have to work hard to prove to the residents that I’m worth the risk.”

He says, “What about compensation? I assume that because the law says you can’t have a bank account for five years after leaving the mob, you have no savings set aside.”

“Yes, sir. I’d need a livable wage, at least what the PSIA paid me for contract work. The day might come when I want to raise a family. If I understand it right, I can’t really have a second job.”

Aunt Hisako’s eyebrow raises. Whether it’s from Soujou-bou’s question or my answer, I can’t tell.

“Why do you aspire to the position?” His voice holds a disapproving coldness.

“I’d like to make the world a better place by maintaining peace in the area I’d serve. I can’t undo my past, but I can protect those around me.”

“Nakamura-san, is he violent?”

She knows the truth of what I was, that I’d taken lives. To be yakuza requires you to smother your conscience. But she’s also aware there was nowhere else for me to go.

Clearing her throat, she says, “I, too, was concerned because of his past. No yakuza escapes being a bully or hurting others in their line of work. But he’s handled difficult situations since leaving the mob by trying for peace before fighting. And he’s had multiple opportunities to take revenge, but he chose not to kill. So I believe he’s no more eager to spill blood than I am.”

Soujou-bou’s hands run over his chin and snowy beard as he appraises me. “Then I will consider this request while I speak with Nakamura-san about a string of weapons robberies. Fetch wood for our fire tonight. My servants can show you where to harvest the wood and how to dry it quickly for use.”

“Yes, sir.” I bow and kneel as Kairi did to open the shoji panel and exit in the proper traditional style, then I ask the nearest tengu for instructions. As with the other bird-men we’ve encountered, his reply is as brusque as a slap across the face. Though I get the gist of the drying spell.

A selection of work shoes sits available for the servants as they go from building to building. Slipping into a pair, I dash off in the direction shown.

‘Fetch’, he said. There’s no pile of wood here or even an axe, and the light is fading. No time to hunt for the proper tool and no one’s here to ask.

Figures. Such a mundane task. But I’ll have to use my sword with a touch of magic.

So I set my suit jacket on a stump, then mumble an apology to the sword and to the tree I’m about to take down as I draw the katana from its sheath. Frigid cold runs down the handle, seeping into my hands and burning like holding ice, as the sword’s ghostly blade glows and crackles. Why didn’t I pick up a pair of gloves to shield my skin when I use the katana?

Gathering my ki and speaking a phrase of kotodama, the magic of the word, makes the task easy. A quick spell warms my hands, too. In less than twenty minutes, I have the wood piled neatly for the Great Tengu and use a bit more magic to dry it so it’s ready to burn.

Planting a few pine cones ensures the tree will be replaced. Then I carry a stack piled high into the house. Was the sword especially cold because it didn’t approve of being used for the task? Too late now.

When I return, Soujou-bou and my aunt are in deep discussion about ancient weapons being stolen from several museums. He directs me with a dismissive wave. “Clean my shoes and make us curry rice.”

Stew for a king? A humble meal, but he is an ascetic monk. “Yes, sir.”

Then he returns to his conversation as if I’m not there. “Nakamura-san, are you saying the sword is part of the collection that would allow someone to take over Japan?”

My feet root to the spot in the hallway. Why can’t I stay for that discussion? Maybe I can linger outside for just a moment.

She responds, “Yes. We thought time had erased these legendary weapons, called the Ring of the Rising Sun. A secret society spread them out over Japan, to avoid anyone using them to steal the royal regalia. One of my contacts says that at least a few may be in the hands of Tokyo’s criminal element. Plus, rumors have it that Ibaraki Douji, the old oni king’s second in command, may be building an army.”

The royal regalia—the three items needed for the ceremony to crown a new emperor—is at risk? My eyes bulge and I hold in a gasp. Something big’s going down in my old stomping grounds. Can I become a Guardian in time to help?

Soujou-bou’s words turn quiet. “Too much power in one place. So, why would Ibaraki be popping up now of all times? Oh, we’ve also lost contact with our agent in Sumichou.” His words turn choked. “Another operative likely… dead.”

Where’s Sumichou? Dead? I gulp.

A throat clears as my aunt’s stern voice calls out, “Tatsuya, Soujou-sama gave you a task.”

Damn her incredible hearing! I have no excuse. So I shuffle off in borrowed house slippers, muttering silent curses at myself the whole way.

Soujou-bou’s shoes are filthy from the mud after the recent rain. I cringe at having to touch where someone’s sweaty feet have been, and I don’t want to get my suit dirty. Rolling up my sleeves, I ponder how to do this. Another use for magic.

Then a tengu servant pops in, ordering me to hurry as I wash and don an apron in the suspiciously empty kitchen. Did Soujou-bou give someone the night off so he could test me?

Pride can’t get in the way. Just like when I was in the mob, I’m being assigned the most menial tasks to test my humility and ability to follow orders. I did this once; I can do it again. Pasting on a neutral face, I nod, then with ruthless efficiency chop the ingredients laid out on the counter.

There’s nothing to light the cooking fire with, so I have to resort to ki use yet again. I’d rather not have to keep using up my magic energy for things like this. Though, there’s no choice if I want to have the food ready in a reasonable time and avoid interrupting Soujou-bou’s talk with my aunt or having to ask the curt servants.

When I bring in piping hot bowls of curry stew, I take the same care I used to serve my old yakuza boss as I set chopsticks down on rests on the low table. The spicy aroma makes my stomach rumble. I’ll grab a bowl in the kitchen and eat out of the way.

Aunt Hisako avoids looking at the Tengu King. He paces around with unnatural halting, bird-like movements, and says, “No complaints, proper manners, curious, and more humble than I expected for a strong-willed, yakuza pretty-boy.”

“Humility is my only choice if I wish to repent for what I’ve done, sir.” Giving a quick bow, I deflect his compliment, blunt as it was. Though, I’m not sure what to make of it.

I’m about to ask to be dismissed when he blurts, “Honjou Masamune, how is it you found this former gangster worthy?”

My head jerks back. Honjou Masamune? The famous sword that Tokugawa Ieyasu, the shogun who helped unite Japan, owned? The very blade made by Gorou Nyuudou Masamune—one of the most famous smiths that ever lived? It disappeared after WWII. And wouldn’t Masamune have forged a tachi? The sword I have is too short to be one of those.

Wait, some tachi were remade into katana to fit the times. I gulp. My old mentor, Hiro, never said that the katana he gave me was legendary!

Suddenly, the blade tucked into my belt vibrates as it hums. Its song thrums through me with the same positive energy as a cat’s purr. I knew all things have a soul, but it’s done nothing like this before!

“I see. So you accept him.” Then the Great Tengu says to me, “She’s always so formal. I don’t know why she speaks like an old woman.”

It talked?

My aunt shakes her head. Later, I’ll pester her until she explains. Way too many questions unanswered right now.

“Umeji-kun, I will train you to perfect your swordsmanship, just as I trained Minamoto no Yoshitsune nigh a millennium before. Then perhaps you can do credit to that treasure you carry. And we will bring your case before the Council of Guardians. What say you?”

He taught one of the greatest samurai in history. Closing my gaping mouth, I gather my wits and give a deep bow. “It would be an honor, sir.”

Aunt Hisako wouldn’t steer me wrong. But her careful composure and tight mouth makes the back of my neck prickle. What isn’t she saying?

“Bring your supper,” Soujou-bou directs.

On cue, I zip to the kitchen for my bowl. As I balance it and dodge a servant in the hall, Aunt Hisako’s voice rings true, “Soujou-sama, you fall for the handsome ones in your care, whether they be men or women, just as you did for your first student. But you told me to speak the truth to you, above all. So hear me when I say Tatsuya won’t take it well. Centuries ago, people accepted this kind of behavior. But in these modern times, they would see it as an abuse of power over a student.”

His voice turns dismissive. “When I was young, a master had total control over his pupils.”

“With all due respect, Master, for a tengu, you’re not that hard-nosed, and you know it.”

His “hmm” is half growl.

What the? He’s a Buddhist priest. Queasy, I whip out my phone to do a one-handed search on the internet for what legend I missed about the tengu king. A Noh play pops up. Scanning it provides the context. Yep, he was interested in his student. Though, it doesn’t say if anything happened.

That’s why my aunt acted weird.

“We in the League keep talking about the need to modernize, yet fail to do so. Attitudes are where we have to start. We need fresh blood for that. This is only one reason I want to bring Tatsuya in as a Guardian. My nephew is bright and will speak plainly. He’s young enough to help us utilize technology, too. The criminal world is leaving us in the dust because of the internet.”

“Worse, our numbers dwindle by the year. No one else on the Council would take Umeji-kun as a student. Why couldn’t they see the potential?” Soujou-bou adds.

Aunt Hisako actually stood up for me. And Soujou-bou is my best ticket to becoming a Guardian. Shit. Food sounds terrible. Eating is out of the question after what I heard. I zip back into the kitchen to dump out my stew and rinse the bowl, then slide the door to the room open.

Aunt Hisako’s ears perk up. “Tatsuya?”

Upon being spotted, my muscles tense as I debate on whether to say anything about what I heard. Speaking my mind goes against everything I’ve been taught.

“Your expression is so dour. Out with it. I value the truth.” Soujou-bou plops his chin in his palm as if tired and motions for me to speak—an unheard of trait in leadership.

But my throat constricts, so I spit out something bordering on safe. “Your voice carries, sir.” I’d have had to been deaf to not hear.

“Does it? My old ears are not what they used to be. Then tell me this, boy. Is a romantic relationship between a teacher and student inappropriate?”

Awkward!

Aunt Hisako’s eyes fix on the floor. I’m on my own.

Here goes nothing. So, I bow to soften my answer. “Y-yes, sir.” The words tumble from my mouth as if racing to get out. “The student will have a hard time saying no because of their respect for the master.”

He leans in. “Even if the student came to care for the teacher?”

My instincts scream, ‘Trap!’ and I clamp my arms to my sides to avoid stuffing them in my pockets. This is too formal an occasion for that.

Training in the yakuza was brutal to force agreement with my superiors. If the clan head said the crow was white, we all said, ‘Yes, it was’.

But just going along with what the group wanted was a big part of why my life in the yakuza was a mess. And I’m still paying for it. What am I if I can’t speak the truth? Trust him or leave. “The student should wait to express such things until their time as a student is over. It could harm the teacher’s reputation otherwise.”

“I agree. Therefore, you will remain here for training. My servant will show you to your room.”

Holy shit. He just said I was right? So different from what I’m used to. Hopefully, it won’t be too bold if I ask a question. “Sir?”

“Yes, Umeji-kun?”

“Will I be allowed to visit friends and family?” When his eyebrow raises, I add, “I’m bound to another because of my kitsune magic, sir.”

He glances at Aunt Hisako. Primly, she states, “It’s true. Before I could warn him about aspects of his new nature, he took a lover and found himself mated to her for life. We haven’t determined if the bond is reciprocated.”

A sparkle enters his eyes. Barking a laugh, he slaps my aunt on the back. “Like teacher, like student. Impulsiveness runs in your family, Nakamura-san.”

When he turns his back, her lips purse and her eyes roll.

He says, “This lady of yours must be a rare beauty for a man to be smitten enough he’d make reckless choices and pass up one of the most sought after kitsune in Japan. I’m surprised Nakamura-san wasn’t the one who seduced you.”

Blinking, I avoid my aunt. She’s not the only blunt one here. Che!

Soujou-bou isn’t the first to suggest a romantic relationship between Aunt Hisako and me. We’re not blood kin. I’m related to her through her first husband’s side of the family. Despite her old lady human disguise, she’s in her prime for her species.

I’ve seen her in her younger human form, too—the ideal of our culture’s beauty. But that’s just not how we’ve accepted each other. I see her as a mother figure.

When she speaks, Aunt Hisako’s voice carries an edge. “Soujou-sama, he resembles my first husband. So it’s an impossible match. Our clan witnessed what happened when Date seduced my husband’s twin. While my nephew is generations from that union, and I’m glad he’s here, the result was my brother-in-law secluding himself in a monastery, never to speak with us again.”

Hot on the heels of her declaration, I blurt, “Sir, besides, my aunt encouraged Su-chan and I to date, and I strive to be worthy of her.”

Putting a finger to his lips, he says, “You accepted a match made for you?” His intense stare burns, despite me trying to keep my eyes on my feet.

“Aunt Hisako suggested, but never pushed too hard. And Su-chan’s amazing—a talented mage before natural magic augmented her abilities. Su-chan saw value in even the likes of me, sir.”

“Then you must let me meet this woman of quality and character. Now, clear the table.”

If he can accept me just as I am, as a student, maybe this won’t be so bad?

While I clean the dishes at the old-fashioned pump outside, I take in the forest’s glow from the lights of the tiny town of Kurama below and the metropolis of Kyoto beyond the ridges. The force field surrounding the estate barely hinders the view.

Then the hint of a shining fox shape streaks across the sky toward Soujou-bou’s domain. My muscles tense and I hurry with my task. Last time I saw that phenomenon, a messenger kitsune from the god, Inari, delivered news that I was going to be tested before I could become a Guardian. News for me?

After putting the dishes away, I see my aunt bowing to a beautiful white fox sitting in the position of honor by the tokonoma display alcove.

“Hisako-san, Inari-sama has heard of your plight. He awaits your presence to offer counsel. You have difficult choices ahead.”

Sensei’s hackles raise for a moment, then settle. I’ve never seen her do that outside of a fight. Kneeling at her side, I offer the comfort of proximity.

Turning to me, the messenger says, “Ah, Umeji-san. I have news for you as well.”

I probably couldn’t tell most foxes apart, but he’s the only messenger one I’ve seen. Giving my respects, I try to suppress any eagerness. “G-good evening.”

“Now that you are among the ones I watch over, you may call me Yoshirou.” After the obligatory pleasantries, he says, “The message is that your trials will increase. Dark days are at hand for kitsune-kind. The tasks ahead, should you choose to accept them, will set the course for our people.”

Pain creeps up the back of my neck and into my head. That’s not what I wanted to hear, but I close my eyes in respectful acceptance. Curiosity gets the better of me and I raise my hand as if about to ask a question, but let it drop because it might be rude.

“Yes?” the messenger prompts.

“Uhm. Yoshirou-sama, were you the one to visit me at the shrine near my cousin’s house?”

The kitsune’s eyes sparkle at the recognition. “I was, indeed. The Nakamura clan is a family I serve. Few kitsune remain, but I am fortunate to be assigned to a clan of our kind. Others serve Inari by watching over various species.”

I probably should shut up. But something wells up inside after the freedom Soujou-bou granted. It’s hard not to squirm as I debate asking.

He says, “Umeji-kun, speak. I will answer if I am able.”

“What happens if I don’t accept or complete the tasks? Will someone else accomplish them?”

“The future is always uncertain. One can follow portents, but never with an exactness that an intelligent mind desires. Truly, there are only actions and consequences. Each choice makes swirls in the mists of the future, sending those droplets to various places. Some become part of raging rivers, some evaporate to rejoin the mists again. This is the nature of things.” He dips his head. “Now excuse me, I have business with your aunt.”

He approaches her with his tail low but curved up, then tilts his head toward the outside in invitation. With dignity, they trot outside.

“Umeji-kun, close the doors for the night,” Soujou-bou says.

My brows furrow, but I do as told. When I see them chasing and pouncing as they head deeper into the forest, I wipe my hand over my face and slide the doors closed. Soujou-bou gives a deep belly laugh at my reaction toward their date, but kindly changes the subject. “So, Umeji-kun, tell me how you came to possess this sword of legend, Honjou Masamune.”