cannot show those virtues to those of lesser status, can I even call myself samurai?”
“Oh?” With his arms still crossed, Okame raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Well, if that’s the case, what are your thoughts on chopping wood or thatching a roof, peacock? Hard, hot, peasant work, best done in a loincloth—wouldn’t want to get your fine clothes all sweaty, would we?”
“It would not be the first thing I have done in a loincloth, Okame-san,” Daisuke said easily, and while I was wondering why Reika’s face had gone red, he turned to Roshi’s wife, still watching us from the side of the road. “Wife of the honorable Roshi,” he began, “please excuse this intrusion into your life. If you would kindly point us to the headman’s abode, we would be in your debt.”
“Honored guests.” The woman clasped her hands together. “It is no trouble. You have done me a favor today, and I know my Roshi. Were he here, he would insist that you stay at our home tonight. It is small, but we do have an extra room at the back of the house that would suit your needs. Please, stay with us tonight, in honor of his memory.”
I looked to my companions. Reika, still a curious shade of pink, gave a short nod, and I turned back to Roshi’s wife. “Thank you,” I said. “If it’s truly no trouble, we would be grateful.”
She nodded. “Tonight I will cook a feast in honor of my husband,” she announced shakily. “And tomorrow, when you visit the shrine of the mountain kami, would you mention his name when you say your prayer? That is all the thanks I require.”
I gave a solemn nod. “Of course.”
I awoke to the sound of a flute.
Yawning, I raised my head from the pillow and gazed around. The room was still dim, illuminated by only the embers in the brazier and the moonlight coming through the window. A few feet away, Reika slept soundly, her hair spilling over her pillow in a shiny black curtain.
Chu sat in the open doorway, triangular ears pricked, the moonlight casting his shadow over the floorboards.
I started to lay back down, when the faint melody came again, making me pause. I had half thought I’d dreamed it, but I heard it now, a low, mournful refrain drifting over the breeze.
Careful not to disturb Reika, I rose and padded silently to the door. Chu twitched an ear at me but didn’t move as I crouched down next to him. For a moment, I bristled at being so close to the dog, my kitsune nature reacting instinctively to the inu. But I reminded myself that Chu was not really an inu; he was a shrine guardian, part of the spirit world, and honestly more like myself than any normal dog.
“Konbanwa, Chu-san,” I greeted in a whisper. “Do you hear it as well?”
I received a slightly disdainful glance from the dog, before he trotted away from me into the room. Claiming a corner of Reika’s blanket, he curled up and lay his head on his paws, though he kept his gaze on the door, ever watchful and alert. Still, if Chu didn’t think there was danger, we were probably safe and whomever was playing the flute wasn’t a threat.
Which made me even more curious.
“I’ll be right back,” I whispered to the dog, thankful that it was Chu that was awake and not Reika. The miko would not approve of me sneaking outside by myself late at night. “I won’t be long, but if you hear me scream, be sure to wake Reika up, ne?”
The inu yawned. Not knowing if he would follow my requests, but knowing he understood my words full well, I slipped out the door onto the veranda and escaped into the moonlight.
I followed the haunting sound of the flute through the field, feeling the cool night air on my skin. Fireflies blinked in and out of the darkness, rising in swarms as I moved through the grass. The faint, melodic notes rose and fell with the breeze and rustling grass stalks, growing steadily more distinct as I approached an old cedar tree in the middle of the field.
I paused, suddenly feeling like an intruder. The song was so beautiful, pulling me forward and tugging at my emotions, but I feared going any closer would cause it to stop, and whomever was playing to flee. My clumsy human body wasn’t made for creeping through the grass unseen.
My fox