Lord Kaedemori stared at the documents in front of him. His vision blurred as the characters ran together. There was more work to be done, compensation to be sent to the families of the deceased warriors, and more letters to write to their neighboring clans to placate their likely anger at his treaty with the Fujikawas. Just imagining their reactions made his head throb. He massaged his temple and closed his eyes.

With the Fujikawas' backing, the Kaedemoris would be the most powerful clan in the region. Hikaru had laid the groundwork, but there was still more to be done. Just the rumor of a treaty had flooded his chamber with letters from the other clans sniffing for confirmation. Well, they would have it soon enough and then the real work would begin. If only this damn headache would desist. He glanced up, prepared to call for the servant to bring him a headache remedy, when he heard the tinkling of a bell.

He looked around the room. He was alone but for the shadows.

"Yoshirou..." The wind whispered his name, like a caress.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. The fire in the braziers flickered and then died down to mere embers. It is my imagination; she has been dead for years.

Then he heard it again. "Yoshirou."

The prickling sensation raced down his arms. He stood and went behind a screen to a secret exit at the back of his room. He would take a quick look, to sate his curiosity. Down wooden steps and onto a narrow pathway between buildings, he followed the track as he had done hundreds of times, the ground worn flat by his footsteps.

The shrine was empty, lit only by moonlight, which illuminated the idol in its alcove. He stood before the idol, the voice that had called out to him a figment of his imagination. But this time he swore he had heard her calling his name. He pinched the bridge of his nose. This is madness. When will she cease to haunt me? She had been gone for nearly twenty years. He looked up at the moon, a mere sliver in the cloudless sky. There would be no moon come tomorrow night, leaving the world in darkness. He touched the feet of the idol, an old habit. He turned to leave, back to his work. I may as well work through the night, I won't be able to sleep either way. Then he heard it again, the tinkling of bells. He spun around and the space in the center of the shrine was occupied.

Wiping away his shock, he greeted his visitor. "What brings you here, priestess?"

The old woman smiled, a wicked smile that he never knew if it meant him good or ill. She wore rough-spun traveling clothes, a brown haori over dark brown hakama, white hair in a braid down her back. She looked ancient, deep creases carved around her mouth and eyes. A crescent-shaped scar on her face gleamed in the moonlight. How she moved silently and appeared without warning, he never knew. She had seemed ancient when he was a young man, and she looked the same now. He was surprised she lived still. Even when she was not dressed as a priestess, she exuded a spiritual aura that even he could see. It was why he had trusted her, once upon a time, but he had second-guessed his actions every day since. He turned his back to the shrine, blocking the priestess from seeing it. Even after all these years, he felt protective of this space. As if guarding it would preserve a piece of Sayuri from others. But the priestess never came to play games, not in all the years he knew her.

"I felt a disturbance in the energy and I thought I would come and visit, old friend."

"Then you were in the area, for what reason?" he asked directly. If not, she would only answer in riddles, as was her way.

She tilted her head to the side and regarded him. "You have aged since the last time I saw you." Her long white braid fell forward over her shoulder.

He folded his hands over his chest. And you have not. Do the Kami preserve you? "Did you come to mock me? Surely someone with your ability has better things to do."

"You're right, I do." She smiled. She had a secret that she wanted him to fish for, but he was not the young man taken in by those smiles and secrets any longer. She had brought him danger before but saved him as well. It was what kept him from sending her away—he was just as guilty as she.

"If you have nothing of import to say." He turned to walk away.

"Wait," she called out to him, stopping him in his tracks. "There is something."

He turned back around. "Yes?"

"I was walking along in the forest and came upon a Kitsune."

He clutched at his chest. It felt for a moment as if a knife had been stabbed there. An old wound bled anew. "You cannot mean to say she has returned from the dead?"

She shook her head. "Don't be a fool. What is gone is gone. This Kitsune is new to this region. I caught her and questioned her, but as you know, their kind can be tricky. I got no real answer as to why she came here."

"Then why are you telling me this?"

"Because I thought you deserved a warning. The Yokai have long memories, and if one came for vengeance..." She shrugged her thin shoulder.

He kept his expression mild while his mind reeled. It means naught. Just a coincidence, perhaps the creature was passing through. But he said through dry lips, "What did you do with her?"

"She escaped, unfortunately. If you see any of suspicion, let me know."

He held his breath. It was nothing but the witch's taunting. But still he had to ask, "You don't think she will come here, do you?"

"When it comes to a Kitsune, anything is possible."

She bowed, and then with another tinkling of bells, she disappeared. He stayed in the shrine room for some time, staring at the shrine. A string of ofuda danced on the wind, but other than that, everything was still. Then very slowly he went and knelt before the idol, a fox—a Kitsune. He pressed his forehead against the feet of the idol.

"Will you ever forgive me? Perhaps in the next life I can make amends for my crimes against you."

Å5