Shadow of The Fox (Shadow of the Fox #1) - Julie Kagawa Page 0,109

But there will be no first blood, no quarter given and no surrender. This will be to the death. Only one of us will cross this bridge tonight, unless you wish to turn around and go back.”

“Why?” Yumeko asked. “What do you gain from killing people? Are you really a demon?”

“A demon?” The masked stranger sounded taken aback. He stared at her, then shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand,” he told her gently. “Those with no passion can never comprehend the drive for perfection. I am no demon. I am merely an artist who, for years, had no canvas to practice upon. I dedicated my life to swordplay, to perfecting the balance between myself and the blade. But dueling with wooden swords, or being forced to stop at first blood—that is like painting a picture with only half the colors. The ‘safe’ duels I fought hobbled me and told me nothing. The only way to truly test my skills is to fight with no limitations. Only then will I know if I have achieved perfection.”

“But...you kill people,” Yumeko said. “You lurk on bridges and ambush travelers, just to prove that you’re better at swordplay. Why?”

“Lurk?” The stranger sounded amused. “What a distasteful image. Were you a man, I would ask you to back up your insult with steel. Oni no Mikoto does not lurk. I challenge, and then I offer a clear choice. Anyone can refuse the duel. There have been several who have recognized a superior opponent and have declined the challenge, at no loss of honor to themselves. I do not wish to fight those who are not worthy. Acknowledging they are outmatched saves me valuable time, which I appreciate. All too often, I find my opponents are boastful and overconfident, and have a much higher opinion of themselves than their skills account for. I hope that is not the case here.

“So, Kage-san.” That pale oni mask turned back to me. “I humbly await your answer. Will you, as several have done before you, turn around and leave? Or will you face Oni no Mikoto with honor and cross swords with him tonight?”

“Neither.”

I could sense his surprise, even though the demon mask gave nothing away. The ronin was mistaken; ideals of honor and glory meant very little to me. I had no pride to stand on, no loss of face to endure. Despite appearances, I wasn’t samurai; I was a Kage shinobi, one who struck from the shadows, who used misdirection and tricks to best my foes. Shinobi were already seen as dishonorable assassins, because true bushi faced their enemies head-on and did not stoop to skulking in the dark. I had my personal honor, and followed the code of the Shadow Clan, but Bushido wasn’t as important as completing my mission, at any cost.

If I could have avoided this battle, I would have. But Oni no Mikoto was an obstacle, and it would take too much time to find a path around. “I would rather not fight here,” I told him, feeling Hakaimono rise up like a blood-filled typhoon. “But you’re in my way, and I have a mission to complete. I’m not going to cross blades with you, I’m going to cut a path right through you to the other side.”

“Excellent!” Oni no Mikoto sounded ecstatic. “You honor me with your acceptance. Come then, Kage-san. Let us see whose skills are sharper.”

“Yumeko,” I said, not taking my eyes from my opponent, “get back. This is my fight, understand? Don’t try to interfere.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw her take a step toward me. “Don’t die,” she ordered quietly. “You promised to take me to the Steel Feather temple. It would be very rude to break your promise by getting killed, Tatsumi-san.”

“I’m not going to die,” I told her. Within, Hakaimono was growing stronger, a surging tide of violence and bloodlust. “Go,” I repeated. “Get to safety. This will be over soon.”

The ronin pushed himself off the railing. “This should be interesting,” he said, and moved away, retreating several yards down the bridge and giving us plenty of room. After a moment, Yumeko followed.

I faced Oni no Mikoto over the center of the river, the moon shining down on us both, lighting the bridge. A cold breeze hissed across the planks from the water, ruffling my clothes and tossing his long hair.

“Does your sword have a name, Kage-san?” Oni no Mikoto asked.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I’m a scholar of the blade. I have studied the history of