Shadow of The Fox (Shadow of the Fox #1) - Julie Kagawa Page 0,65

dropped a single rice ball into my hands. Murmuring my thanks, I watched him walk to the other side of the campfire and sit down to stare into the flames.

There was a shimmer in the darkness, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. Looking up, I saw a tiny, pale green figure, no larger than my thumb, watching me from atop a root a few feet away. It wore a round mushroom cap on its head, and its eyes were like black pits under the brim.

Tatsumi saw what I was looking at, and his hand went to his sword. “Tatsumi, no,” I warned, holding out a hand. “It’s a kodama, a tree kami. It won’t hurt us.” He relaxed, dropping his hand from the hilt, and I offered the kodama a smile.

“Hello,” I greeted softly, as the tiny kami tilted its head, watching me. “Please excuse us, we’re just passing through. We’re not disturbing your tree, I hope?”

The kodama didn’t blink. It watched me a moment more, then padded forward and hopped onto a stone, staring at me with pupilless black eyes. A faint sound rose into the air, like the rustle of leaves stirred by the wind. I nodded.

“I understand. We will stay to the path, and we’ll be careful not to tread on any new plants or trees. You have my promise.”

“You can speak to the kami.” Tatsumi’s tone didn’t question, though it sounded faintly surprised. “How?”

“The monks taught me,” I replied. Not the whole truth of course; I’d been able to see the spirit world—kami, yokai, yurei and the rest of the unnatural—for as long I could remember. One of the perks—or curses—of being half kitsune. Though the monks did teach me the differences between the myriad spirits in Iwagoto. There were the nine greater Kami, the named deities who were worshipped throughout Iwagoto: Jinkei, God of Mercy, Doroshin, God of Roads, and so on. The lesser kami were minor gods, spirits of nature and the elements; they existed everywhere, in the earth, the sky and all places in between. No one knew how many kami existed in the world; when people spoke of them as a whole, it was common to say “the eight million gods,” and leave it at that.

But besides the kami, many other strange, magical creatures roamed the land. Yokai were creatures of the supernatural; sometimes called monsters or bakemono, they could change their forms or had some amount of magic power, tanuki, kamaitachi and, of course, kitsune being prime examples. Yurei described the many restless ghosts that wandered the mortal realm, zashiki warashi, onryo, ubume and more. There were even some monstrous plants that preyed on humans and a handful of creatures that didn’t fit into any category, so the list of gods, ghosts and monsters was endless. But, even though some yokai were dangerous and some yurei had malicious intent, all were residents of Ningen-kai, the mortal realm, and were to be respected.

Unlike the demons—the amanjaku, and terrible oni like Yaburama. They hailed from Jigoku, the realm of evil and corruption, and did not belong in the mortal world at all.

“Master Isao and the others revered the kami,” I went on. “They strove to exist in harmony with all forms of life. The most spiritual among them could see and even speak to the kami on occasion. I sort of had the talent for it, I suppose.”

“Is that why the kamaitachi listened to you?”

“Well...not really. I listened to them.”

The kodama was joined by a friend. Then three more appeared between tree roots, and another materialized near the edge of the fire. I looked up to see dozens of the tiny kami perched on rocks and branches, watching us through the rain. A sound rose into the air, like hundreds of dry leaves fluttering at the same time.

Tatsumi, observing the growing number of kodama around us, didn’t move, but his posture remained tense. I could sense he was trying very hard not to go for his sword. “What do they want?” he asked.

“Um...” I closed my eyes briefly, trying to focus on just one voice. Kodama were difficult to understand at the best of times. “Slow down,” I said, holding up a hand. “Please, one at a time. I can’t hear if everyone talks all at once—it’s like trying to pick a drop out of a waterfall.”

The sound of whispering branches stopped. The kodama on the rock stepped forward, chattering in a soft voice that sounded like a leaf