air, landing between us with a crash that made the ground tremble like an earthquake. I kept my balance, but the noble staggered, falling to one knee, and the oni raised his club to smear him across the stones.
An arrow sped through the air, striking the monster in the forehead, causing him to rear back with a snarl. I spared a quick glance over and saw that the ronin had climbed to the top of the watchtower by the gate. He sent another dart at the grimacing oni, who snorted and raised his arm, letting it hit him in the shoulder.
In that moment of distraction, I whispered a quick incantation and lunged, a shadow Tatsumi appearing to join me. Yaburama saw us coming at the last moment and swung his club—at the wrong one. I dodged beneath his legs, vaulted off a knee and, as I rose toward his face, sliced Kamigoroshi across his neck, cutting open his throat.
Dark, steaming blood sprayed from the opening beneath the oni’s chin. Instinctively, I threw up my arm to shield my face, but it still burned through my clothes, searing like liquid fire as it reached my skin. Hitting the ground, I staggered back, clenching my jaw against the pain, waiting for the oni to fall.
Almost too easy.
Yaburama started to laugh.
His voice rang out over the courtyard, deep and mocking. “Is that it?” The oni sneered, yanking the arrow from his face, not seeming to notice the second in his arm. “Is that the best you humans can do? Do you think you can defeat one of the demon generals of Jigoku so easily?” He laughed again, shaking his horned head, then turned and picked up a chunk of wall taller than a man, hefting it in one claw. Eyes glowing, he smiled down at us. “Let me show you how very mistaken you are.”
The noble and I tensed, ready to leap aside, but Yaburama straightened, drew his arm back and hurled the boulder across the yard. It spun end over end and smashed into the base of the watchtower, snapping the legs and causing the structure to collapse with a roar and a cloud of dust.
“Okame-san!” cried the noble, as the oni bellowed in triumph, raising his club in the air, and the amanjaku cackled.
As the watchtower remains settled over the likely dead ronin, Yaburama turned, eyes glowing as he glared down at us. “This bores me,” he growled. “I grow weary of fighting insignificant humans. Amanjaku!” he roared, raising his head. “Kill the human noble! Flay him, eat him, wear his skin for a coat, I care not! But get him out of my way. I wish to fight the demonslayer in peace.”
The minor demons shrieked with excitement and lunged forward, surrounding the noble like ants swarming a grasshopper. The closest demons perished instantly as the former Oni no Mikoto cut them down, his blade moving so fast it was nearly a blur. But there were dozens of amanjaku, a seemingly endless horde, and their numbers began to push him back.
I started forward, intending to thin the swarm a bit, when the oni’s huge tetsubo smashed into the ground between us. “Where do you think you’re going, demonslayer?” Yaburama rumbled, putting himself between me and the amanjaku swarm. “The fight is here. Or should I remind you?”
He swung the tetsubo at me with savage force. I dodged as the club crashed into the stones and cut at the hand that held the weapon, severing a clawed finger. Yaburama snorted in annoyance and instead of pulling back, raked the weapon across the ground. I managed to leap aside, but the unexpected move set me off balance, and the second sweep caught me in the shoulder. Pain exploded through my body as I was hurled through the air and struck the ground several yards away then rolled to a painful stop. Kamigoroshi was torn from my grasp and went skidding over the stones in the opposite direction.
Dazed, I struggled to rise, but the ground trembled, and a clawed foot landed on my chest, shoving me back to the stones. The air whooshed from my body and my ribs bent and threatened to snap, as the huge oni peered down at me, smiling.
“A disgraceful way to die, demonslayer,” Yaburama mused, as I gritted my teeth in an effort not to gasp for air. Inside, something was building—a rising flood of desperation, rage and hate. “Smashed underfoot like a cockroach, nothing but a smear on