Two servants came out from the adjoining rooms and prepared the table, and Nō was bidden to come forward and sit across from the daimyō. He was treated to a hearty meal of roasted pork, vegetables, and top-grain rice. After finishing their meals, a carafe of sake was brought out and set upon the table, along with small, earthenware cups of brown and azure.

  “Does the monk drink sake?” Kurea asked before pouring.

  Nō nodded but flushed red as he held out his cup for her.

  “I have never seen a monk your age drink sake,” Kurea said with a laugh as she poured. “It makes me feel a bit more relaxed around you.”

  “The office of Kaijin affords one laxity with some of the regulations,” the youth answered, taking it all down in one gulp as Saru had shown him.

  “I see,” she said as her eyes glittered in the candlelight. “Though this is not very high-quality vintage, I’m afraid. We do not have much out here in the borderlands. If you were to visit me in the halls of my forefathers, alas there would be more and better there for you to sample.”

  “And what is this place to you?” he asked, growing bold as the sake was strong. “Is this not your residence?”

  “This is merely a house offered up by one of my retainers. He is chief this village and offered it to me for the time being, until I depart for the encampment. We have used this village as a staging point for the army which is now nearly assembled.”

  “And why are the Ryū gathering an army? Who could you possibly want to war with?”

  “You have many questions for one who is not a spy,” Kurea grinned.

  “Pardon my curiosity, my lady. Last I heard there was to be a battle with the barbarians. What came of that?”

  To this Kurea’s mouth tightened, and her gaze grew dark again. “My father indeed went out to war against the barbarians, but he never returned. Very few have come back to tell me of what happened there, and those that did speak of a duel between my father and his bitter rival, the Old Tiger of the Tora, at the forest’s edge above the field of battle.”

  Nō was greatly surprised and saddened by this news. He had heard many stories of the Tiger and the Dragon and had admired their adherence to honor and the old ways. To him, they seemed like immortal legends that would never die. “Then your father was finally slain by Lord Tora,” he said grimly.

  “It would seem so, but the Old Tiger did not survive the duel either. It is thought that they slew one another, but no one is sure.”

  “Then your army gathers to war against the Tora?”

  Kurea nodded and took her cup to her lips. “It is the destiny of our peoples to war until one becomes preeminent or we are both destroyed.”

  Without thinking, the young monk blurted out, “My lady, surely you do not believe that.”

  Kurea suddenly slammed her cup down on the table and glared at him malevolently. “And what would you know of it, monk?”

  Nō was startled, and when he saw the fury upon her fair face, he bowed his head. “Forgive me, I am not used to strong drink.”

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  The daimyō glared at him for a moment longer but then relaxed and waved it off with her hand. “Now that the Mashige Shōgun is dead, the check to our ancient enmity is removed. I must do my duty and try to finish the struggle once and for all. Though, between you and me, I wish it were not I who had this bitter task.”

  Nō opened his mouth to speak, for this had been the first time that he had heard of the death of the Shōgun, but as he did so he was interrupted by a hard banging at the door.

  “My lord!” a voice cried from without, and they could hear a great commotion of guards that had flooded into the antechamber.

  Kurea rose and beckoned them to enter.

  Several soldiers poured inside, and they were befouled with blood and dirt.

  “The Tora!” Kurea hissed.

  “Nay, my lord!” one soldier cried; his eyes wide with terror. “There are fell beasts about. Oni!”

  “Oni?” the daimyō repeated, her face marked with utter confusion. “No, it must be the Tora! They have found us out and are using some clever devilry!”

  “My lord,” another of the soldiers cried out, stepping forward into the candlelight. It was the veteran soldier, Yoshida, who had watched over Nō for the past several days. He too was smeared with blood. “This is no devilry. There are indeed oni about. I have seen one with my own eyes and have narrowly escaped its horrifying clutches.”

  “How do you know it was an oni? They are thought to be extinct!”

  Yoshida was not to be deterred. “When I was a child, I went north with my father on many hunting expeditions. Often, your father was with us. One time, we saw this kind of creature and fled before it.”

  Kurea stared back at him pointedly. “I have heard of this story before, but I never believed it was true.”

  “What I have just seen is the very same! It is monstrously tall, with great horns and fire-red skin!”

  At that moment, a guttural roar seemed to echo throughout the air and rumbled the foundations of the house.

  The daimyō frowned. “If then there is an oni in this village, why are you here and not fighting it? The villagers depend on our protection!”

  The soldiers looked around at one another with true fear. “My lord, we already lost many men when we were ambushed at the outskirts of the village. We do not have enough soldiers garrisoned here to fight such monsters, of which there may be many. Out scouts said that they saw several lurking in the woods!”

  A flurry of exclamations and words of alarm seemed to flow from the soldiers’ lips.

  Kurea looked down and cursed. “What wretched misfortune! Every other night we would have had a company of men to fight off these demons! How many do we have now?”

  “A dozen left, perhaps less?” the veteran answered.

  “Then we must evacuate the village! Each one of you must go house to house, and make sure we get as many out as possible!”

  The soldiers once again looked around and appeared hesitant. This was a new, young daimyō after all, and these were enemies unfamiliar to them.

  “Then I shall lead this effort myself!” Kurea roared.

  It was at this point that Nō thought that he must say something. “My lady,” he ventured timidly.

  “Not now, monk!”

  “But my lady!” he insisted, “If there are truly oni out there then it would be certain death to go out alone. Yet there is a shred of good fortune still left for you. My teacher…don’t you remember what I said he is?

  At once Kurea turned and stared down at Nō with a piercing gaze. “What do you suggest we do?”

  The boy looked around nervously but gathered his courage to speak. “Free my master, and my other companion if she is well enough. Both have experience fighting and killing such beasts. With them, you might have a chance.”

  The Ryū daimyō breathed out heavily and rubbed her face with anxiety. “Very well,” she finally answered, turning towards the veteran soldier. “We have little choice. Every available hand is necessary. Release the so-called Kaijin and his woman. They will deal with the oni if they can. It is up to us to rescue the villagers. Stay with me now, or I shall give you worse than an oni to fear!”

  At this the men seemed to respond, nodding vigorously, and puffing themselves up for conflict.

  “And you, you can stay here,” Kurea commanded Nō, as he rose to stand. “But remember that you are still my prisoner.”

  “I will not stay behind like a dog,” he retorted sharply. “I will render any aid I can give, and if these people are to survive you need all the help you can get.”

  She looked him up and down skeptically but then nodded. “Very well then, monk,” the daimyō said, unsheathing the long sword at her hip. “Let’s go!”