Yoshirou's imprisonment had left him plenty of time to work, not that much had been done. Every so often he would get up under the pretense of stretching his legs only to pace the room like a caged animal. Of all his children, he never expected this from Hikaru. Hotaru was the one he had watched and feared would rise against him. Why, Sayuri, is your son doing this to me? Is this also my punishment for my sins? The guard, one of his own men turned against him, watched him warily. Yoshirou had not neglected to see the way the young man's hands hovered near his sword or how his eyes skimmed over the lord, his muscles tensed, ready to pounce. Keeping his cool was getting harder all the time. He had woken on the first night of his imprisonment with his futon torn to shreds and feathers scattered across the room with no recollection of how it had happened.

"My lord?" The warrior backed up an inch as he glared at him. The coward.

"Yes?" Yoshirou said, filling his tone with all the icy remoteness of a detached ruler. Because even if his son betrayed him and locked him away, he was still the elder until he drew his last breath.

"The priestess is here to see you."

He made a sharp gesture with his hand, indicating she should enter. The guard scurried backwards, eager to be out of his presence.

She entered, head bowed, but he knew her in an instant. When Hikaru had made his move and imprisoned him, he had felt her hand moving the pieces. Not Sayuri's son, who loved to learn more than to fight, and who trembled beneath his stare. Hikaru did not have the forethought to do such a thing, but this was the witch's type of game. He had seen it before, but had never been on the receiving end. He clenched his hands tight on the edge of his table, hard enough to splinter the wood. The guard slid out the door, and as he did, she raised her head, a wicked smile on her face. He broke a nail and blood welled along the bed, but he did not move to wipe it away.

She sat down in front of him and spent a few moments arranging the folds of her sleeves and straightening the billowing folds of her her haori, then folded her hands on the table in front of her and glanced up at him. He clenched his jaw. He must not let his temper get the better of him, the witch wanted something, and losing his cool now would play into her hands. He folded his hands in front of him. The blood from his broken nail rolled down his finger and onto the tabletop. He ignored the throbbing pain, he was numb to it by now, as he was absorbed by the witch and her knowing smiles. Let her play her games as long as the Kitsune was gone.

"It is done, then, you've exorcised the Kitsune as promised?"

The witch smiled, a slow creeping smile that made his stomach drop. "She was no Kitsune, my lord, just a woman possessed by the spirit of Sayuri."

Hearing her name again after so many years felt like a knife to his gut. Old wounds reopened to bleed anew. He thought he had buried her and the guilt over her death long ago, but since the Kitsune's arrival, he had become obsessed. He could not sleep, he refused to eat, and all the while he was wondering about her, waiting for the revenge he knew was coming.

"You're lying."

"Why would I lie?"

He slammed his hand on the table. She had to be a Kitsune! Why else would she taunt him, never speaking, but she moved as Sayuri did, every gesture an echo of his lost love. She even resembled Sayuri, dark eyes, round face and her smile. If he closed his eyes, he could still see Sayuri laughing in the garden, feeding the koi, carrying his child. He opened his eyes. The witch looked on him with an expression of pity. She thought he was mad, but she had been the one to warn him. She had been the one who told him how dangerous Kitsune were. He opened his eyes to the truth that Sayuri would destroy him had she gotten the chance. So he tried to exorcise the Yokai energy from her, to make her human, truly, but it had killed her instead. He ran his hands through his hair. Sayuri's gaunt face haunted his nightmares. Towards the end she had been nothing but skin stretched over bones, begging, pleading for her life.

"Sayuri..." he moaned.

It had to be her. Lady Nishimori had to be Sayuri's kin come for revenge. He looked up and he saw her standing there behind the witch's shoulder. She looked sad, so sad. He reached out for her, but when he tried to grasp her outstretched hand, she disappeared into the mist. Had it been an illusion or a vision? He could not be certain.

He turned back to the witch. "You told me a Kitsune was in the area, that they were coming for me."

"They are. Their kind and Sayuri will never be satisfied until you are dead."

His hands trembled. Sayuri, why will you not forgive me? I loved you, I still love you. I was a fool to do what I did.

"What can I do? How can I stop this?"

She shrugged. "Your death is what she wants. Blood pays for blood."

"And the girl, she is bewitching my son. I can see it, I am not blind."

"Then deal with her. I have done all I can, it is up to you now."

She rose to leave, but he did not watch her go. His eyes were drawn to the guard standing outside the door and the sword at his hip. Sayuri had returned and she pointed one pale ghostly hand at the weapon. He knew what he had to do.

g