Scott McGough: Guardian, Saviors of Kamigawa

“Hello, old friend.” Hidetsugu’s grin widened and he cocked his broad flat head in a disturbing parody of Toshi’s own quizzical expression. Each of his gnarled, twisted teeth was as big as Toshi’s hand.

Toshi felt a familiar chill. An ogre’s smile was never something to be taken lightly. A cunning, learned, and patient ogre was still an ogre, and while Hidetsugu was always scrupulous in observing the terms of their shared hyozan oath, he also seemed amused by the dread vow they had sworn.

Toshi kept his tone respectful but looked the ogre unflinchingly in the eye. “We were supposed to meet here and take down the school together, oath-brother,” he said. “Remember?” Toshi opened his arms, indicating the vast empty space around them. “You didn’t wait, so now I’m not sure if the plan is still intact.” He smiled. “Or if I’m even welcome. I know how much you hate guests.”

The o-bakemono stood, sending a cascade of bones rattling down the mound. “Nonsense, Toshi. You are always welcome to visit me.” Hidetsugu tilted his head back and drew a long stream of air into his nostrils.

The uneasiness in Toshi’s stomach hardened into a cold, hard ball. It was said that o-bakemono can smell powerful magic, and Toshi knew it was true. If Hidetsugu guessed Toshi’s latest secret, this little errand would be over before it began. Everything hinged on the next few moments, in a contest between Hidetsugu’s instinct and Toshi’s preparations to deflect that instinct.

Hidetsugu finished his breath and smiled down at Toshi once more. “You stink of your myojin and the dead of winter,” he said.

Relief swept through Toshi and he almost smiled. Calmly, he said, “Why shouldn’t I? I am an acolyte of Night’s Reach. In her name I took on the blessing of lethal cold, of frigid darkness.”

The ogre nodded. “And the longer you contain that cold, the more it consumes you. Like your newfound religion. I wonder if you realize how much they are taking from you, old friend.”

“I’m getting the best of the bargain so far.” Toshi grinned wickedly, hoping to disarm Hidetsugu’s suspicion with an open display of greed and ego. The ogre would expect that of Toshi.

But Hidetsugu’s expression grew sharp. The bulging muscles in his arms and legs twitched, launching the ogre high into the air over the throne of bones. Toshi held very still as Hidetsugu landed heavily beside him, sending a web of cracks across the thick stone floor.

Toshi waited as the ogre inspected him. When Hidetsugu had stalked a complete circle around him, Toshi said, “If you’re done appraising me, oath-brother, I’d like to discuss business. This reckoning,” he gestured at the academy around them, “seems complete. Our next step should be-”

“Our work here,” Hidetsugu interrupted, “is far from complete. The wizards and the soratami crossed us, the hyozan reckoners. Their suffering has only begun.” The ogre’s great nostrils flared as he snorted angrily. “We are sworn to it.”

Hidetsugu was wearing a mantle of black silk across his shoulders, so Toshi could clearly see the hyozan mark branded into the ogre’s chest. In the shadows behind the mound of bone, Toshi also saw more yamabushi lurking in the darkness, edging closer to their master and his guest.

“Well, I hate to argue,” Toshi said. “But there’s no one left to reckon with, is there?” He pointed to the white mound. “I mean, their suffering is over, right? What’s left to accomplish?”

Hidetsugu smiled, his tongue lolling grotesquely across his lips. Toshi swallowed hard.

“No, my friend,” the ogre said. “Their lives have ended and their bones have been picked clean, but their souls are still being savored and digested. According to the terms of our oath, which you created, the reckoning is not complete until tenfold vengeance has been taken.”

He crouched, bringing his wild eyes and carrion breath directly into Toshi’s face. “The ones who ordered our brother Kobo’s death are here. My apprentice’s reckoning is already upon the wizards and the moonfolk, but it will not end until it reaches their patron kami. I swore I would feed every one of them, everything they owned, and everything they loved to the All-Consuming Oni of Chaos. For him, this,” he pointed to the mound, “is barely a mouthful.”

Toshi felt his eyes go glassy. “I see.” He smiled weakly and, fearing the answer, asked, “And where is your oni now?”

Hidetsugu rose. Laughing, he spread his arms. “Here. Everywhere. He gorges himself on all Minamo has to offer. The wizards had amassed a remarkable collection of powerful artifacts and spells. When I last saw my god, he was devouring the central library one scroll at a time.”

Toshi swore inwardly. If the oni was consuming inanimate objects of great power, it was unlikely to overlook Daimyo Konda’s prize, which Toshi had left in the depths of the academy’s maze of offices and passageways, hundreds of feet below where he now stood.

Hidetsugu’s manic mirth subsided. He strode past Toshi toward his makeshift throne. “And you, ochimusha?” he called over his shoulder. “If you have not come to honor our oath to Kobo, why have you come?”

Toshi abandoned the truth-it had never served him that well anyway. He had hoped that Hidetsugu and his demonic spirit would be too caught up in the ongoing carnage to care about the disk. If they didn’t know what it was, or how powerful, they might have let him have it for the asking … after all, he was the one who brought it here.

He swore again. Now he would have to find a way to convince the o-bakemono to relinquish the prize instead of feeding it to his oni. Toshi didn’t relish the task. He was a newcomer to the idea of spirit worship, but Hidetsugu had been a true believer for a long time. If his oni had any interest in the disk, the ogre would never let it leave here.

“I have come,” Toshi said, “On behalf of the Myojin of Night’s Reach. I am her acolyte and her interests are mine. Currently, she wishes to protect the Takenuma Swamp. Now that Konda’s tower has fallen and the daimyo himself has gone missing, she sees a chance to confront her enemies and expand her influence.”

Hidetsugu cocked his head again. “And this affects me how?”

“Look,” Toshi said, exasperation overwhelming fear, “you’ve managed to combine our oath with spirit worship. Why can’t I?”

The ogre chuckled. “Oni and myojin are both spirits in the same way butterflies and hornets are both insects. You should never confuse the two while picnicking.”

“Point taken. But you’re not listening to me. What if I say I’ll help you finish here then you come with me to the swamp. You can even bring your team of mind-raped yamabushi killers. Slaughtering things in the bog will seem like a vacation from slaughtering things on the water or in the air.

“Look around, oath-brother. The wizards are all dead or gone, and your oni is eating whatever they left behind. Kobo’s reckoning will continue. The next step was always going to be the soratami, correct? Well, the soratami are in the swamp, and if we kill them there, we’ll be honoring the oath and my myojin.”

Hidetsugu’s smile evaporated. His eyes flared. His voice was low and husky. “The soratami are next. And we don’t need to travel to kill them, my friend. They are close by.” The ogre glanced upward and his yamabushi let out a hollow, mournful moan.

Toshi smelled an opening. “I’ve heard that the soratami only left a small force to defend their city. Most of them are in the swamps, trying to muscle in.”

“Most are in the forest of Jukai,” Hidetsugu corrected. “But the hyozan will find them and deal with them all, in time.”

“So why haven’t you?” Toshi said. “Oboro is protected by a token force, and surely the taste of moonfolk flesh is more exotic to an oni than old books or human meat. Don’t tell me a great and powerful o-bakemono and a half-dozen yamabushi are stymied by some skinny aristos with swords.”