forcing them to obey. Because she held hostage the one thing that could give them pause.
The third kamaitachi.
At least, I’d hoped that was the case. I couldn’t be absolutely certain. It had been a gamble, but I’d had to help somehow, both to free the sickle weasels and to save Tatsumi, who would have died trying to fight both the witch and the demon bear. Calling out to her familiars was the only thing I’d thought of. When the witch had slammed me in the wall and I’d lain there, aching and trying not to pass out, a tiny voice, soft and raspy, had whispered in my ear.
Our brother. She keeps him in her obi. Save him and free us all.
I’d seen a streak of brown fur vanish into the air as I raised my head. I’d also seen the wind witch standing over Tatsumi with a knife angled toward his heart, and terror had flooded my veins. There had been no time for tricks, no time for fox magic, kitsune-bi, or illusions. My only thought had been to save Tatsumi.
It was pure luck that, in the struggle with the witch on the ground, my hand had closed over something small and hard beneath her obi. And that I had been able to grab it just as she’d hurled me away. What had happened afterward...my stomach churned with the memory. I wasn’t sorry for what I’d done; she would have killed us both if she could, and the kamaitachi were now free. But it didn’t change the fact that the wind witch was dead, torn apart by her own familiars, and I was the one who had caused it.
I tried putting it from my mind as we walked along the riverbank, seeking a spot where we could climb out of the ravine. As the adrenaline wore off, various aches and bruises all over my body began to make themselves known. I also noticed the tear in Tatsumi’s black haori, and the darker stain spreading over his back.
“Tatsumi,” I said again, and hurried to catch up. “Wait. You’re hurt. We should take care of that before we go any farther.”
For a moment, I didn’t think he would stop; his face was blank, that icy mask remaining over his features. But then he nodded once and walked toward the tiny stream cutting through the gully floor. Reaching into his jacket, he knelt and carefully pulled out a square of paper, revealing a few pinches of green powder inside.
I watched as he added several drops of water and mixed it into a familiar paste. Then he paused, gazing down at the salve as if just coming to a realization.
“Yumeko.” His voice was hesitant, almost inaudible. I stepped forward to hear better, leaning close, and he exhaled. “I can’t...reach the wound on my own. Would you be able to...?”
It took only a second to realize what he was saying. “O-Oh,” I stammered. “Of course.” Gingerly, I took the salve from him, ignoring the way his muscles tensed as my fingers brushed his. “Do you have bandages as well?”
He handed me a roll of thin white cloth, then turned and unceremoniously pulled his arms through his loose shirt and jacket and shrugged out of them so that they fell around his waist. Thankfully, he was facing away from me, so he didn’t see my face heat like a teapot left on the brazier too long. The monks at the temple would often train or meditate bare-chested, so I was used to seeing male upper bodies, but they’d all been so familiar I’d never given any of them a second thought. Kage Tatsumi was a different story. The late afternoon sun slid over the warrior’s broad shoulders and back, revealing taut skin and lean, hard muscle.
And scars. Dozens of them, crisscrossing his shoulders and raked across his back. Some were almost faded away, some were deeper and much more vivid. I reached out and barely stopped myself from tracing a trio of scars slashed vertically down his right shoulder blade. A moment later, I shivered when I realized what they were.
Those are...claw marks.
I shook myself and pulled back my arm. The gash from the kamaitachi was a thin, straight slice from the top of his shoulder blade to the bottom of his ribs. Blood had already seeped from the cut and down his skin, staining the edges of his shirt.
After dunking a square of cloth in the tiny stream, I hesitated with a quiet breath, then