I muttered.
Yumeko continued to observe the field of stones. “Do you think there could be yurei?” she asked. She didn’t sound terribly concerned about this, as if the idea of meeting a ghost was more curious than frightening. I was less intrigued. Most yurei were harmless, content to haunt the place they had died, mournful and tragic, but not dangerous. There were others, however—onryo and goryo being the most feared—who had died with hatred or jealousy in their hearts, and would return to wreak vengeance upon those who had wronged them. Sometimes their grudges would last for years, centuries, as the curse affected not only the people who betrayed them, but their descendants, as well.
“It depends,” I told Yumeko, not wanting to explain all this.
“On what?”
“If they were buried appropriately. If they received the proper funeral rites so they could pass on. If they died with no strong emotions or unfinished business that would cause them to linger in the mortal realm.” I gazed over the cemetery, “So...yes, it’s entirely possible we will see yurei tonight.”
“At least there’s a monk in town,” Yumeko said. “He would’ve performed the proper burial rights, wouldn’t he?”
I frowned slightly and glanced at her. “What monk?”
“The monk,” Yumeko repeated, gesturing back toward the village. “He was at the headman’s house when we first arrived, and then again on the path here. You didn’t see him?”
“No.” Not that I doubted her statement. Like the kodama and the kamaitachi, it seemed Yumeko was adept at seeing the spirit world. Better than me, it appeared. I knew how to spot demons and yokai, but that was usually due to Kamigoroshi’s influence, Hakaimono’s insatiable bloodlust rearing up, alerting me when they were close. Because the demon didn’t care much about yurei, I was less sensitive to the presence of ghosts unless they were very powerful or meant me harm.
“There was a monk,” Yumeko insisted. “He wore black robes, a straw hat and he carried a staff with metal rings that chimed as he walked.” She paused a moment, looking thoughtful, then asked, “Oh, do you think he could be a yurei who haunts this village, and that’s why everyone is acting so strange?”
“Maybe.” Ghosts were harder to figure out than demons. Usually they were problems for a priest or onmyoji to take care of, to exorcise or placate the spirit into moving on. The clan never sent me after yurei; no one was certain what happened to the creatures that Kamigoroshi slew: if they were banished to be reborn, or erased from existence entirely. The thought that a human soul could be snuffed out without passing on, to simply cease to exist, was a horrifying and blasphemous idea that even the Kage would not risk. I could kill demons and yokai in waves, but I was forbidden from slaying a ghost unless it was a matter of life or death.
Yumeko sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight.”
We turned and walked back into the hut, loud snores greeting us as we stepped through the doorframe. The ronin had already fallen asleep on the rough planks by the fire, the jug of sake clasped loosely in one hand. Yumeko shook her head, stepped over his body and moved to one of the straw mattresses in the corner. I settled in the doorway, pulling my sword sheath from my belt and laying it across my lap. I could feel Yumeko’s eyes on me as she curled up on the mattress and drew a threadbare quilt over her head.
“Tatsumi-san?” she asked after a few minutes of listening to the ronin snore. Near the fire, the body on the floor coughed and shifted to his back, falling silent for the moment.
“Hn,” I grunted.
“I’m...glad you’re here.” Her eyes, dark and luminous, watched me from under the blanket. “I know the road is dangerous, but I feel safer knowing you’re close. I would never be able to sleep in a haunted village by myself. So, thank you...for staying.”
For some reason, that made my stomach contract a little, and I had no idea why. “We both made a promise,” I reminded her. “You would guide me to the Steel Feather temple, and I would protect you on the way. I’m here for the scroll, nothing else.”
“I know.” Her voice was very soft in the darkness of the room. “But I’m still happy that you chose to stay. I...” A yawn interrupted her, and she covered it with a hand. “I might even be able