In the depths of the sewers, Tatsu and I rest. We are far from the slain bodies of Sasori, Mamushi, and the hunter. We have evaded Okāsan and the remaining kyūketsuki. For the moment, we are safe. There is little comfort for me in this respite, though, as I search for reason in the hunter’s confession. I can find none, and for the first time in decades, my confidence falters.
For the first time in decades, I feel vulnerable.
If there had been one constant in my life since my transformation—one unbreakable law—it had been that kyūketsuki and men were mortal enemies. We were their monsters, their demons. We were the embodiment of the evil they refuse to see in themselves, and being evil, we could be killed without remorse.
There is little in this world that is more dangerous than men who kill without the intrusion of conscience. No kyūketsuki would be spared the wrath of man, and therefore, no man would find mercy from a kyūketsuki blade. Yet, there was no doubt or confusion in the hunter’s speech or manner. The hunters had been aided by one of the kyūketsuki. That same kyūketsuki had proffered the photograph of Tomo.
I drag my gloved hand across the damp, grimy stone of the sewer floor. Here, in the dark, cold places man will not inhabit, I had once felt at ease. Here, we were sheltered from the ever seeking eyes of men. Here, we could drift from their consciousness and be left alone. I no longer feel sheltered, though. My security lies among Koumori, Sasori, Mamushi, and the other murdered kyūketsuki, another casualty of this betrayal.
I turn to look at Tatsu. She sits leaning against the sewer wall. She appears unaffected by our plight. I cannot tell if her lack of concern is genuine, but I find it unsettling. I turn away again.
“This is the end of us, Tatsu.”
A few moments of silence, then Tatsu speaks. “You fear Okāsan?”
“No. I meant the Kuroiwa clan. We are finished.”
“Okāsan has rebuilt the clan several times. She will do so again, even without us.”
I weigh the consequences of informing Tatsu of the traitor. Such a thing is unthinkable, and I cannot guess whether she would believe me or balk at such an assertion. She is the only ally I have now, and I cannot risk her abandoning me. If I am to find Tomo, I may need her help. It is all too much to repress, though. There are answers I must know.
“Have you ever seen any like us who are not kyūketsuki?”
“Yes,” Tatsu responds. “Several times.”
I turn toward Tatsu, surprised.
“When? Where?”
Tatsu closes her eyes. She still sits leaning against the wall, her hands behind her head.
“They are not like us,” she says. “Not really.”
I wait for her to continue. She opens her eyes and stares at me.
“They are disorganized,” she continues. “Lost. They feed recklessly, aimlessly. They have no pride. They curse their existence. They are not kyūketsuki.”
“But when have you seen them?”
Tatsu smiles at me. It seems like the warm smile of a friend. That is how I want to accept it.
“I have kept secrets from you, Mukade. Things you did not need to know.”
“And what secret have you kept from me about these others?”
Tatsu glances down at the dark sewer floor in front of her.
“When I scout new territory for Okāsan, I am not only searching for threat from men. I also seek out any competition for our survival.”
“And when you find it?”
Tatsu looks at me again. Even in the scant light, her eyes seem to glimmer.
“When we were last forced to move from our home, Okāsan had forseen the impending danger and made preparations. Weeks before, I was sent to find a safe den. When I found our new home, there was only one obstacle to overcome. It was inhabited by the others. The vampires.”
I peer at Tatsu. There is no need to ask the question, but I want the answer.
“And what did you do?”
“I acted as I was ordered. I eliminated our rivals.”
I think of Sasori and Mumashi. I see them falling under the strokes of Tatsu’s katana.
“They are like us, Tatsu. How could you destroy them?”
“They are not like us, Mukade. They draw too much attention to themselves. They would have compromised the safety of the clan. Okāsan ordered their deaths. I cannot defy her.”
“Not even when it means the death of others like us?”
Tatsu stands. Her eyes close, and I can read nothing from them.
“Not even when it means the death of kyūketsuki.”
I stand as well. Tatsu is motionless, her eyes hidden from me. My first instinct is to react, to render judgment, and my fangs grow.
“The death of kyūketsuki?”
“When we left Japan, it was because of Okāsan’s arrogance. She was not content to live outside the world of men. She wanted to conquer it, and so, I was made to lead the Kuroiwa clan into a small village as a demonstration of our might. The villagers were either assimilated into the Kuroiwa clan or destroyed. None were spared.
“Okāsan had underestimated the repercussions we would face. Men from surrounding villages rose against us. They were relentless. As we had left none untouched in the village, they showed no mercy to us. Our numbers dwindled, and to avoid our end, we fled to America. Since, Okāsan always worries about our strength. It is not beyond her to risk those in the Kuroiwa clan to test their worth. She has placed us in peril before to rid herself of the weak.”
I scrutinize Tatsu. Her words. Her expressions. Her gestures. Her stance. I can perceive no falsehood. If this is the truth, then Okāsan is suspect. She might be the link to Tomo.
“I have to return.”
Tatsu shakes her head.
“In Okāsan’s mind, your flight is a confession. You are a traitor.”
“But if this was her doing—”
“Then you will take all suspicion from her.”
The hope for answers surges within me. My longing for Tomo is undeniable.
“I am going.”
Tatsu reaches out and places her hand on my shoulder. It is unexpected, but welcome.
“If you go, you will go alone. I cannot act against Okāsan.”
“I know.”
I say nothing more. Tatsu’s hand slips from my shoulder, and she fades into shadow as I retrace my steps back to Okāsan.
* * * * *
My journey back has been uneventful.
Tatsu instructed me on the ways of the kyūketsuki assassin. She taught me to move silently. The easiest kill comes when the victim is unaware. To be unseen and unheard are the assassin’s greatest skills, and among the Kuroiwa clan, I was second only to Tatsu.
I draw near to Okāsan. Within me, the love of Ai intermingles with the ire of Mukade. The two unite in one objective. I will uncover the truth. I will discover the traitor. I will find the path to Tomo.
Okāsan stands alone as I approach. None other shall intervene. My hand flexes, yearning for wield my nodachi. Okāsan glances over her shoulder at me. Nothing in her demeanor reveals any surprise at my return.
“Welcome home, Mukade.”
She turns away from me again, showing no concern at my return. Suddenly, I feel more vulnerable than I have ever been.
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