Chapter 8: Convergence

Koumori is defeated, though he will not yet yield.

He glares at me as he kneels, blood trickling from numerous small cuts and a few larger gashes. I have only harmed him enough to slow him—to weaken him so that he may cease his attack and retreat to safety. I can see that he refuses to even consider such an outcome. His eyes project a hatred beyond reason. A fury consumes his mind. It is a fury bred of loathing for one he deems a traitor. It is a fury that is continually stoked by his pride, which has suffered a far worse injury from this defeat than his body. He is young, he is arrogant, and he is wrathful.

“It is over, Koumori. You have to accept that you are wrong. I am no traitor.  This will be proven.”

Koumori is unmoving. He is as a statue, frozen in a pose of subjugation, his dead, stone eyes fixed on me. I forsee the inevitable end of this struggle, no matter how much I yearn for it to be otherwise. Koumori perceives this fight too narrowly. In his mind, it must either be him or me. There is no draw. There are no concessions. Only one of us may remain at the conclusion. Sadly, I believe even Koumori realizes which of us that will be.

Koumori’s katana lies but a few feet from him on the pavement. I know his mind is trained on it, ready to retrieve it for one final assault. He is now too weakened for strategy and swordplay. His next attack will be a mad flurry driven by the hopes of catching me off guard.

“You must cease, Koumori. I do not want to harm you further.”

No response. Not even the faintest change in expression. He is too focused on me and my movements. He waits for an opening. I grow impatient, knowing the more time that passes, the more chance there is of being found out by other kyūketsuki. My concentration slips for an instant, and in that moment, Koumori once again has his katana in hand and springs toward me.

I step back, dip my body, and thrust upward with my nodachi. The sharp blade skewers Koumori, sliding easily through his chest and out of his back. His katana falls to the street as his strength fails him, its metal clang reverberating off the tall buildings that line the alley. I hold Koumori impaled for a few seconds before I allow him to slide to the ground. He gurgles and coughs as he attempts to speak, to curse me—the traitor—one final time. I sheathe my nodachi and kneel next to him. I touch his forehead with my gloved hand and look into his eyes. I offer what comfort I can, and I witness confusion in his gaze where there had only been hate.

The passing of one of the kyūketsuki comes with terrific agony. The oni spirit which grants our existence forfeits its hold on the body with extreme reluctance. When the spirit senses the body is failing, it clings savagely to the life that remains, long after the individual has ceased to struggle. It is like being ripped asunder from the inside until the spirit finally fades into oblivion. As I kneel by Koumori, I sense the torment, the pain. Though I am sure it is no great solace to him, I stay by his side until it is over.

I place Koumori’s katana atop him and cross his arms over it. Leaning forward, I whisper into his ear.

“Farewell, Koumori, cherished servant of Okāsan and brave warrior of the Kuroiwa clan. I hope you have found peace.”

Though the idea of leaving Koumori in the street does not please me, too much is pressing to do otherwise. I must see what I can discover of the vampire hunters quickly, before anyone else finds me. I stand, my mind on the hotel and what clues it may contain, but a voice from above stops me before I can move further.

“Koumori was destined to reach an early end. Okāsan knew it. I think Koumori may have even known.”

I glance up to see Tatsu sitting on the edge of a fire escape. She appears casual and unmoved by what has transpired.

“He could have been a great assassin, had he any control over his rage.”

Tatsu slides off the fire escape and lands lightly on the street. I step back instinctively, putting space between us. I do not know yet what her motivations might be, and I can allow her no advantage. If she were to attack now, while I am fatigued from my lack of rest and my duel with Koumori, I fear that she would vanquish me easily. She seems to take no notice of me, though, but instead stares at Koumori’s body.

“I warned Okāsan against changing him. She thirsted for his passion, though. She did not seem concerned with what might eventually come of him, as long as she could have him for a time. And so she changed him, adding a fierce warrior doomed to bring about his own ruin.”

Tatsu turns her attention to me and smiles. Her white teeth shine in the dim light.

“I do not blame you for Koumori’s death, Mukade. It was his decision to end his journey tonight, not yours.”

My fatigue seems to increase under Tatsu’s gaze, and I long to escape from it. She perceives my discomfort.

“You have nothing to worry from me, Mukade. Not at the moment. Look—I do not even wear my katana.”

I notice that her side is bare. For whatever reason, she is not armed.

“Unfortunately, I cannot say the same of the other kyūketsuki,” she continues. “Okāsan holds you responsible for what has happened tonight.”

“But . . . I did not know about any of it. I would never turn against the Kuroiwa clan.”

Tatsu regards me for a few moments. Her weight of her eyes on me becomes nearly unbearable.

“No, I do not think that you would. But it does not matter. Okāsan has passed judgment on you, and she will never forgive such betrayal. She will rebuild the clan, and then you can be assured that she will seek you out. The world has become a very dangerous place for you tonight, Mukade.”

“Will Okāsan not listen to reason?”

Tatsu laughs. “Okāsan listens to her own counsel. Nothing more.”

“Then I must leave.”

“She will continue to hunt you. One day, she will find you.”

I shake my head. “I am not concerned about that now.”

“She will make us enemies. I cannot deny her will, Mukade.”

I nod. “Then I hope to not see you again after tonight.”

I turn to walk away. I have wasted too much time. I know I must uncover what information I can and escape.

“At least you need not worry about the vampire hunters anymore, Mukade. Only one remains, and he is in Okāsan’s hands.”

I pause and look back at Tatsu.

“You have captured one of them?”

Tatsu nods. “Yes, we killed all but one. Okāsan wanted to interrogate him.”

“So, he could vindicate me?”

Tatsu shrugs. “It is possible. So far, he has told us little. Some information about other kyūketsuki the hunters have attacked.”

“Other kyūketsuki?”

Tomo’s picture flashes in my mind. Before Tatsu can respond, I am moving, running. I am racing back to the Kuroiwa clan. No concerns remain other than to speak to this hunter. Hope and longing for Tomo supersede any worries about returning to the clan.  I must know if Tomo is out there. I must reach this hunter while he still lives.

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Chapter 7: Betrayal

It is twilight, and I have not rested.

My thoughts throughout the day have been troubling, refusing to slow, to fade. The kyūketsuki long for sleep, perhaps more than mankind. For us, waking life is the nightmare. Each night, we are haunted by the demonic urge to drink the blood of humans. Each life taken separates us further and further from what we once were. At least in dreams, we may discover a trace of the humanity we once took for granted. There, we may feel the peace the night denies us.

But if I find Tomo . . . if I can find love again . . . .

To find Tomo, though, I realize I must go back. I must face the threat of the vampire hunters and the kyūketsuki. If I do not, I am afraid I will not be able to uncover the mystery around Tomo. I have to learn what the vampire hunters know of him. I have to learn why they have his picture from the winter carnival.

The thought that it may be too late continues to lurk in the periphery of my mind, and I battle to keep it at bay. I cannot accept that Tomo may have fallen victim to the vampire hunters, though it explains so easily why they would have his picture. I know that cannot have happened. I know that I would have felt the loss. But if they did not find him and destroy him . . . how and where did they take possession of the photograph?

It is what I have to know. It is why I have to return, possibly to my peril.

When the sun finally disappears, I dress once again in Mukade’s clothing. I take all of Ai’s possessions and stow them carefully away in the house. They must remain until I return. This will be a safe haven for Ai while Mukade completes her mission.

I exit the house and make my way back into the city. My eyes seek out dark windows and rooftops for danger. My sense for blood will warn me when a vampire hunter is close, but the kyūketsuki could be anywhere, waiting for me. They will not have me. I repeat it over and over in my mind. They will not have me.

I am now deep into the city, close to the hotel where I killed the hunter. Only a day has passed, yet I have relived a lifetime within it. I tell myself that it has been but a short time and I may still find a clue I missed earlier—some seemingly insignificant hint of where to seek next for Tomo.

I turn to enter the alley behind the hotel. Koumori stands there, as if he has expected me for some time. I had dared to hope I might complete this mission unseen, undetected, as if I had never returned. I know that is not to be, now. This night will not pass without bloodshed.

Koumori is among the youngest of the kyūketsuki. He was one Okāsan chose to turn the last time we rebuilt the clan. She was attracted to his quick temper and lithe body. She was certain he would acclimate quickly to the ways of the kyūketsuki. She knew that he could become a skilled assassin. And, as always, Okāsan was correct.

Seconds pass before either Koumori or I act. We both realize the severity of this meeting. I can only attempt to convince him that I was not leaving the clan. I know that I will fail.

“Have you returned to us, Mukade?”

The words are not inviting. They are a judgment. I am already convicted of desertion. All that awaits is my sentence.

“I have returned, Koumori. I have spent the day worried over what the hunters might know. I thought it best to see if I might find any clue of how this one discovered us.”

Koumori smiles and shakes his head.

“No need to wonder, Mukade. Okāsan now knows how the hunter found us. She has uncovered everything.”

I sense a threat in his words. A promise of violence.

“What is it that she has uncovered?”

Koumori’s brows draw together. His face is crevassed by hatred.

“This day, Mukade, while we rested, the hunters invaded our home. Before we were alerted, five of us were killed. Two more died before we fled. If it were not for Okāsan and Tatsu waking us, there would be no more Kuroiwa clan.”

 Koumori pauses, his eyes fixed on mine, before he continues.

“You should have seen how we fought the hunters. They believed they could come and destroy us so easily. They did not realize the fury they would unleash. Okāsan . . . .”  He pauses again, looking down and smiling.  “She flashed about them, teeth bared, her blade streaming blood.  It was . . . beautiful.”

Koumori meets my eyes again.

“But you did not see any of this, did you, Mukade? You were not there.”

I feel my hand involutarily flex, begging to unsheathe my nodachi from my back.

“Be very careful with your words, Koumori. You risk an accusation.”

“No, I make that accusation!” Koumori bares his fangs. His eyes shine. “As she cut down hunter after hunter, the same words were repeated by Okāsan—’Where is Mukade? Why is she not here?’”

Koumori places his hand on the tsuka of his katana, but before he can begin to draw it, I have my nodachi in my hand. I rest it against my shoulder. I do not want this. Mukade has killed other kyūketsuki when commanded to do so by Okāsan. It was her duty as an assassin. She never dared do so against one of the Kuroiwa clan, though. She thought she would never have reason to.

“I should have been there, Koumori, but my absence does not make me a traitor. I have always been faithful to the Kuroiwa clan.”

“But you have never been of the Kuroiwa clan! You should have never been allowed among us!”

Koumori draws his katana. I raise my head, eyes open wide. Mukade rages inside of me. There is nothing left to reason. I run to meet my foe, teeth bared.

This night will not pass without bloodshed.

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