Pilgrim 6, p.30
Pilgrim 6, page 30
The bakeneko grumbled under his breath. “Well, it better be comfortable. And I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here when I say I’m in need of a good, solid rest, unlike the kind I’ve been getting in the mountains over the last few days.” His eyes suddenly lit up.
“Does the dancing begin soon? It does, right?”
“You know it does,” Usagi told him.
****
Danzen wasn’t the dancing type. He had never taken part in any of the festivals across the Kishu Kingdom, and actively avoided them unless he had a contract. Having a contract during a holiday changed everything. Festivals were a great way to slip into a town, deal with someone, and leave before anyone could piece together what happened.
Danzen did just that a few years back, at the annual Kitsune Festival in Bahlingar where the townspeople traditionally dressed up as foxes. Because masks were required for the nightly affairs, Danzen had a kitsune mask made during the day, one absent of ears so that he could wear it under his hood. Thinking back now, as yokai began to play drums, and the sights and sounds grew to the point where they were overwhelming, Danzen remembered that his mask had been white, making him the same species of kitsune as Kudzu.
A crowd of humans wearing fox masks was prime cover for an assassin, and Danzen had been able to easily find his mark, which just so happened to be a woman with pale yellow hair. Sometimes, he was provided a good amount of information, enough to get a picture of what the person had done. Sometimes his marks even deserved it. Yet in this case, Danzen hadn’t been provided very much on his target, only that she was the daughter of a man who
had cheated the crown through some scheme. That was how high up this mark went, and it was why Danzen was chosen for the task over someone who could make things a little too messy, assassins like Soko.
Throughout the night, Danzen had watched the kitsune-masked young woman dance with her friends and turn away men who were trying to court her. She wore silver robes and a white mask that had gold accents around the eyes, her friends all in orange and red masks, which only made her stand out even further.
Unlike most of Danzen’s marks, it was the pale-haired woman who sought him out, while Danzen was standing at one of the bars with the same ale he had ordered hours earlier. She had first commented on his mask, saying that it was rare for a man to wear a white kitsune mask. She said it was brave, that showed that he was in touch with a more feminine side of himself. He admitted that he had no idea that the white masks were traditionally worn by women, that he had been wondering why a few people had given him strange looks, and why he had received a handful of comments from the men brave enough to approach a figure like Danzen.
With broad shoulders, muscles evident beneath his robes, and a gait that spelled danger, Danzen apparently checked all the right boxes for the woman that he had been hired to kill. He tried to be dismissive toward her yet she still continued to pursue Danzen, coming back around every half hour or so, drunker, more brazen with where she placed her hands. At one point she sent her hand down his side, her fingers grazing against the dagger he had tucked under his belt.
She tried to remove his mask and Danzen stopped her using his Demon Speak.
He should have finished the job then, instructing her to kill herself later that night by throwing herself out a window. Something like that.
It had worked before, yet the contract stipulated that this wasn’t the way that it was supposed to be done. It needed to be visual, a message from the crown to her father, not something that could be interpreted as a drunken slip-up.
So he did it right there.
As quickly as ever, Danzen surged forward, like he was going to embrace the woman. He even placed his face against her neck so that anyone watching would think that things had started to escalate
between them. He drove the dagger into her stomach and told her with his power to remain quiet as he let her bleed out, her silver robes soon saturated with crimson. Now fully supporting her weight, Danzen circled around and placed her against the ground near a darkened corner of the festival grounds. He confirmed that she was dead and left, the news shocking Bahlingar the next day by the time he had left town. The only reason he knew about this was because of how quickly news of the murder had spread, reaching Arsi about the same time that Danzen arrived at the riverside city. He remembered someone saying that a white-masked kitsune had murdered at a woman at the Bahlingar festival, another person laughing and telling the man that the story sounded fabricated.
As for the kitsune mask itself, Danzen had burned it in the fireplace at the tavern he’d stayed at that night, erasing any evidence. Not that someone would come collecting.
In the time span it took for Danzen to recall what he had done to the woman, how wearing the mask and being around others had given him this strange sense of belonging that can only be found through anonymity, Kudzu approached.
“Let’s dance.”
Danzen snapped out of his own reverie to find the kitsune now in her human form. How long had he been sitting there thinking of the past? It was only now that he saw her, in the yellow robes, surrounded by the sights and sounds of the festival, that he realized how much the proceedings reminded him of the festival in Bahlingar.
Thinking back now, they had even played a similar drum pattern, a staccato series of taps followed by a long roll.
“Did you hear me?” Kudzu asked. “Let’s dance.”
He gulped. “Dance?”
“Everyone is already dancing.” Kudzu motioned to the crowd of yokai below the tree stump. Danzen spotted Jelmay in his human form, dancing with Yato, Semya and others moving in waves around them.
“Where’s Nomin?”
“Back at Kikikaki’s tree, watching our things. Come on, Pilgrim, Danzen, this will be fun.”
“But my swords.”
“Leave them under the table with your Blade of Darkness.”
Somehow, Yato’s laughter pierced through the sound of the crowd, Danzen suddenly feeling the urge to enjoy himself as well. He never let his hair down, even though his hair was still pretty short, and considering what the future held, now seemed like a perfect time to do so. With newfound energy he removed his weapons and placed them under the table, his two swords, his gauntleted blades, everything except his Astra kunai.
He took Kudzu’s hand and soon joined the others. Danzen was not exactly certain how to dance. He had never really considered what it would be, to move in a way that wasn’t designed solely for executing a combat move. He was stiff, the exact opposite of Yato, who had loosened up, her shoulders moving left and right, the younger assassin occasionally placing her hands near her forehead and making ears with two of her fingers. Was this a dance that Danzen was supposed to know?
He thought about trying it, but Kudzu stopped him.
“Just loosen up,” she said, and it was only then that Danzen noticed that she couldn’t really dance either.
There were other yokai who had morphed into humans, many of whom had actual skill. This only made Danzen feel worse about his
boxy, stiff dancing style. But eventually, he stopped worrying about how he looked, which wasn’t something he normally concerned himself with anyway. No one seemed to care.
In finally letting loose, Danzen felt that pang of guilt due to the actions of his past. Here he was, dancing with a kitsune in a magical forest. If it were possible to rewind his life, he would find himself in a similar situation, with the kitsune-masked woman, on the verge of killing her.
He lowered his head, and as he did Kudzu placed her hand on his cheek.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he told her as he moved his head away from her hand.
“We don’t have to dance if you don’t want to.”
“I’m fine, it’s fine,” Danzen told her. He finally made eye contact with Kudzu again. His heart softened to some degree when he saw just how much fun she was having, the kitsune in her human form awkwardly sashaying left and right, trying to appear as human as possible.
Danzen appreciated it, he also appreciated she wasn’t human, that she was something beyond.
“We don’t have to dance much longer,” she said at one point, the drums even louder now. “Just tell me when you want to go.”
****
They set out early the next morning, Jelmay slightly hungover and dragging his feet. With the bakeneko not as up to par as he normally was, their trek through the woods was relatively quiet. This gave Danzen ample time to think about the festivities of the previous night, especially his dance with Kudzu, how she had placed her hand on his cheek and how it had stirred something within him. Danzen knew he was too broken to have a relationship, so all he could do at that time was look away.
Danzen was at the point now where he would do anything for Kudzu, and even if he didn’t want to think about it, he was certain that someone or something would use this as leverage against him in the future. This was one reason why he regretted dancing with her
last night, as innocent as it had been. The closer he grew to the kitsune, the worse he would react when the inevitable happened.
Danzen had proven something to himself back in Chutham, in his fight against Kaysim. The demon in him was real, and it was savage.
It didn’t matter how much he tried to soften its power or dampen its influence, it was a part of who he was, and what he was capable of doing in that mindset with relative ease was a step beyond carnage.
Yet if something happened to Kudzu Danzen knew the butchery to follow would be even worse than he thought possible.
Maybe this was what he needed to defeat Nomtoi in the end, or finally stop his father from toying with his life. Maybe Danzen needed to embrace this demonic side, this part of his blood that he had wanted to hide and suppress for so long. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Danzen was aware that it would likely come to this at some point. The same person who would save children and yokai, who helped people with his power, was the same person who had killed numerous people in cold blood, innocent people, like the kitsune-masked woman in Bahlingar.
The same person.
As always, it was a lot to take in, and Danzen was glad for the change of scenery once they reached the fields that separated Tudan from Chutham. He remembered how in the spring they had been filled with flowers, yellows and blues, whites and pinks, to the point that they had completely transformed the landscape. Now all of that was gone, the ground covered in orange and beige leaves, spots of grass still peeking out yet showing signs of their desperation as winter set in. Yato and Nomin walked ahead, the two discussing something, Sansar high above them. Danzen was in the back this time, Kudzu in front, and Jelmay barely keeping up with the former assassin.
“Yuck, yuck, ugh. I knew better than to drink last night,” the bakeneko said for what felt like the tenth time. “We have a big journey today and the last thing, the last thing, that this kitty needed was homemade yokai hooch. Where did they brew the swill, the nest of a yamachichi? You didn’t have any of that stuff, did you, Pilgrim?”
“No.”
“Best move you’ve made all year, and you’ve made a lot of moves this year.” Jelmay licked his lips. “Ugh. I’m sweating. I was cold moments ago and now I’m thirsty. This is the worst possible
outcome. Once we get to Tudan we can refuel, and maybe I will drink a little bit more to offset this hangover. That works, right, Fox?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Jelmay rolled his big eyes. “You have been alive how many years without having a hangover?”
“I’ve had a hangover before,” Kudzu told him.
“That’s right, you can’t hold your alcohol very well. Poor thing.
Well, I’m also a poor thing at the moment because, whew, I’m certainly feeling it. But that was fun, dancing, right? I saw the two of you. If the Butterflies ever have an opening, and I’ve heard that they will soon, you should certainly audition.”
“It was a festival, Jelmay.”
“And? You had fun, admit that.” The bakeneko caught up with Kudzu. “Come on, admit it. And, just so you know—no judgment here—both of you are bad dancers. What I said about joining the Butterflies was a ruse. That won’t happen, sad to say. If you want to see good dancers, just wait until we reach Arsi. The Butterflies are some of the best performers that have ever lived, and if I’m being honest, it’s too bad we’re going to have to kill them. I feel like I’ve
said that before, but really, they put on a good performance. Maybe we can catch their performance once or twice before we do what must be done.”
“For some reason, I don’t think it’s going to work out that way.
Pilgrim?”
“We will need to see what Soko says first,” Danzen told the bakeneko.
“And once all the Evils are dead, what happens with her?” Jelmay asked Danzen. “Hmmm?”
“We will address that then.”
Truth be told, Danzen needed to have a long conversation with Nomin about this, and now wasn’t the time to do it. They would get some privacy in the future, perhaps on the boat ride to Arsi, where they would be able to discuss it. It was certainly something to consider—what happened next? Danzen had grown used to not having Soko hunting him. He didn’t want to do something devious like slay her at the conclusion of his fight with the remaining Evils, but this was certainly an option.
Nomin would provide some perspective, even if Danzen already knew that he probably wouldn’t like her assessment. While loyal, and an incredible partner to have, Nomin was quick and harsh when it came to dispensing justice, whether that justice was warranted or not. He already knew that she was going to suggest killing Soko at the conclusion of all this, yet he would discuss it with her anyway, hoping that there was another option.
Had Soko seen the light? Had Danzen and his group influenced her in a way that would lead her to ultimately redeem herself, to become part of the better good?
No. As much as he didn’t want to admit this to himself, he knew it to be the case. There was a point in the future where Soko would be his enemy again, and Danzen had an opportunity here to decide on that point, rather than have it sprung on him.
.Chapter Two.
More memories of the region came to Danzen as they reached the Tudan Outpost, his thoughts settling on the time he’d helped Eva Yin deal with the rich businessman who had hurt one of her pillowers. He now recognized that this was a theme that went with the sex trade, a sad one, yet Danzen knew there was little he could do to stop certain types of men who frequented those places from releasing their violent urges.
Then again, just a few days back he had hand-delivered one of these men to Eva so she could kill the man herself, so maybe there was something he could do. In his time with the Diyu Brotherhood, Danzen had taken a number of marks that dealt in some way with the sex trade. Whether it be jealous spouses or madams, someone always wanted someone else to die. It was a sad fact, but a true one, and it was why the Brotherhood had prospered.
If something ever truly happened to the organization, if they were fully eradicated, something else would replace them, likely a bandit
group that got organized. It was the circle of death for the Kingdom.
Upon arriving at the outpost, Danzen and his companions gravitated toward a tavern, where they would drink and eat until a ship set out later that night. To make sure they had the best room possible, Jelmay took it upon himself to arrange their passage while Danzen and the others waited at the tavern, where a bard began plucking away at a lute, the top-heavy man singing a tragic song that Danzen hadn’t heard in ages.
“At heaven’s fall, the ground did quake, the soul of sin, christened the day…”
Kudzu hummed along, oblivious to the fact that she was the only person that wasn’t wiping a tear away or staring down at the drink. It was a song often performed at funerals; it was only once the musician finished and slowly lowered his instrument that Danzen understood why the man had sung it. Behind the musician was an effigy, one that would later be burned. Someone close to the man must have died. The bartender announced that the next round would be on the house at just about the time that Jelmay appeared, the bakeneko in the form of an elderly woman.
“Deary,” Jelmay told Kudzu using the voice of an old hag. “Is this the way you dress when you leave the homestead? By Sunyata, you’ve brought shame to your entire family!” Jelmay burst out laughing at his own joke, only then realizing how somber everyone in the tavern was. “What the hell has gotten into these people?” he asked as he took a seat on the stool, the bakeneko making a show of his exaggerated, elderly movements.
“Someone died recently,” Danzen told him.
“Did you kill them? Kidding, even that question is a little base for someone like me. I apologize. Now, let’s drink,” he said, still using the voice of an older woman. “Best way to fight a hangover!”
“What about the ship?”
“I’m glad you asked, Fox. Not only do we have the best room on the ship, but we even have our own private deck. Can’t beat that.
And it’s a new ship, meaning it’s top of the line and especially nice.
Since when do rooms have their own private decks? What kind of luxury are we finding ourselves in? We will soon know.” Jelmay took a sip of his ale. “That’s exactly what I needed.”
They didn’t leave the tavern until much later that night, the group heading toward the docks, where there were still people left over
from Tudan’s lively outdoor market. They reached the room, Jelmay excited as ever as he opened the door and gave them a tour in his cronish voice. “You’ll be sleeping here,” he told Kudzu as he pointed out a pillow on the ground, “and you’ll be sleeping here, deary,” he told Yato, indicating a small bunk set in what resembled a closet.
“Blind Pilgrim, you don’t sleep, so you can stand over there. I will be in this room, the suite.” The bakeneko came to the largest space, which featured a nice bed in a private seating area.
