We creep toward our destination, careful not to make a sound. I'm not worried about myself. I am silence incarnate. But Katsurō? Well, so far he has managed to keep his staff from rattling. I'll take it.
The moment of betrayal is nearly upon me. It's not as easy as I want it to be. The crow and I have history. Yes, I want to kill him, but I cannot forget that we were brothers-in-arms once. He saved my life when we went against our other brother the night we chose to get out. Noburu would never have let us leave, and that bastard was stronger than either of us alone.
Even then, he nearly did for me. Katsurō deflected the killing blow at risk to himself, and now here we are. Yet, I won't hesitate to betray him, nor he me. We are yōkai.
Ahead stands the heavy door of the armory, and it has been a task to find it. The trick of this place is to stay on the administrative level. Believe it or not, Hell is superbly organized. It's pure bureaucracy and the tedium deserves the title of Hell. They even have a wing dedicated to accounting. We accidentally went there first.
Fortunately, we got through that fiasco without detection. Now a group of oni is coming our way. I flatten against the wall as they march past. One of the tusked brutes sniffs the air and turns his head our way. I hold my breath. He grunts when his fellow guard smacks him on the shoulder. The pace of his brothers forces him to keep going. Never underestimate the power of herd mentality.
I wait for several heartbeats until the hall empties. "We're clear," I whisper.
Katsurō makes a noise of acknowledgement in his throat. We continue on. I try the door, which opens. I grin and slip inside. Another good thing about Hell... no locks. With roving demon guards and each soul locked in its own personal Hell, there's no need. Who would steal from King Enma, infamous for his unforgiving temper?
Katsurō enters behind and closes the door. "I thought we were done back there when that oni sniffed us." He removes my broadleaf and shimmers into view.
"You should bathe more often," I remark, perusing at the impressive collection of rare weapons. I could happily get lost in this place for days!
"Heh - more like it was the scent of that woman's perfume on you."
"What?"
"You smell of your mouse thoroughly. Her soap, her sex... you reek, my friend. Best watch it, your little honeypot's humanizing you."
"I am not human," I say with heat.
"Then stop acting like it."
At first I am angry, then I pause. Am I really? I thought I was doing a fair job of playing my old self. But... have you truly changed me so much, Hotaru?
I spy a gorgeous tanto blade that is in a black sheathe decorated with sakura blossoms. This was made for a woman. It makes me think of you, so I stick it inside my kimono sleeve. You should have one and this will be the perfect gift to bring you.
"So where is it in here, do you think?" he asks. There are so many weapons that you'd think Hell was about to go to war. It is quite the collection! Most of these rare beauties disappeared from the battlefield when their owners died.
The cursed weapons will be kept in some kind of case or vault. These things are never so easy as a simple grab and take. I look over and smile smugly. Those cabinets on the far side of the room have the scent and aura of magic. I meander that way, my excitement growing.
I pass my hand over the most elegant chest, feeling the wards. My glamour melts away as the crackle of energy ripples across my palms. It can't be helped.
"Well?"
"Tch!" I warn through clenched teeth. "I need to concentrate."
This is going to be tricky. Obviously, these weapons have to be inaccessible to the rabble. My guess would be that only Enma himself can open this. Normally, the task would be impossible, but I am not most yōkai.
I gaze at the floor.
"What are you doing?" Katsurō asks.
"Looking," I reply. It's dusty in here, meaning no one has cleaned for ages. I pick up the strand of Enma's black beard, fallen carelessly to the side. "For this."
We kitsune are shapeshifters and illusionists par excellence. Give me a piece of someone, and I can I turn myself into that being. It might not be enough in this instance, but it's all I got. Otherwise, we'll have to contrive to trick the King of Hell into giving us his own sword, and given Enma's reputation, that is less plausible than this scheme.
I transform myself into the King of Jigoku and open the cabinet. There is no mistaking the katana the moment I lay eyes upon it. I can feel the miasma of this blade. It likes to taste blood, and it likes me. I feel the pull to it, the desire to wield it. I hear it call to my bloodlust, whispering of all that we can achieve together, the glory and conquest, the violence... I feel the rush of power as I reach out to snatch it.
Your sweet face swims in my mind. Hotaru. I miss your presence. How I wish we never needed to part! You are everything to me. If I take up this sword, I will be a warlord again, a rogue and restless demon who slays wherever he goes. It will compel me to leave you behind, and I shall lose you forever. The very idea of it, the sorrow you would feel at such abandonment squeezes the heart in my chest. I see you and Tsukiko as I left you, and I know that I can never forsake you.
The whispering ceases, my hand falters. I no longer desire this fell thing, but am repulsed instead. Alas, Katsurō is another matter. My contractual obligation compels me. Once he has the sword, I have to kill him before he can use it on me. I do not wish to take up permanent residence in Hell.
I hear the sound of feathers and feel a whoosh of air. The tengu rushes past and grasps the sword in the blink of an eye. He flies off as I transform back and dash after him with haste. I nearly have him when a heavy grate slams down, separating us. Sad for me, I'm on the wrong side of it, locked in.
"Katsurō!"
He stops and turns back. "I know you too well, old friend. You're right, of course. Once I used you to win my battles, I would have slain you and taken your sweet little fold in the universe, and the pretty one you like to stick your cock in. We both know you're too clever to allow it, so you would have to make a move here. You should have picked up the sword."
"You piece of shit," I say, eyes narrowed, ears flattened back.
"Like I said, your love has made you weak. Do not be anxious. I will take good care of her. I think I shall make her my concubine. She is already broken in, and fertile, too. Might be I can seed a crow of my own in her womb."
I do not give him the pleasure of a response. Theatrics are useless, and so is pleading. My miasma radiates my hate and that is answer enough.
"Your daughter will fetch a good price on the market. A little abomination like that? The kami will bid themselves to beggars over her!"
I stare at the tengu with cold eyes. I refuse to acknowledge his taunts. My glare promises a slow, excruciating death.
Katsurō smirks. "No?" he goads. "Nothing to say?"
"I was going to burn those assholes in the woods anyway. I just wanted to hear you beg."
Katsurō sighs.
"I will kill you," I vow.
His response is to laugh. The echo of it haunts me. "But not before I get to her. Besides, thanks to you, I have this now." He flaunts the katana. "Good fortune despite your extended stay, Isamu. I'll tell the little mouse you said goodbye."
The tengu closes the door on me. It is a hopeless, hollow sound. Were I a weaker fox, I would despair.
"We'll see about that," I whisper viciously.
I am about to use the shadows to abscond from the scene when a hand claps down on my shoulder. I look up into the wrathful countenance of the King of Hell. I forget how to breathe. Panic temporarily clouds my mind. I am so screwed.
Hotaru...
"Ah, a thief! And what shall we do with this one, hmmm?" His great voice booms. "The possibilities are... endless."