Traditions are passed in many ways. Master to disciple, father to son, conqueror to the conquered. With each change of hands, traditions transform and evolve. Yokai are no exception. From the coming-of-age ceremonies of the kitsune to the succession rites of the oni, every ritual can trace its roots back to the dawn of the tribe that founded them. Why, you may ask? Because those who disobey the old ways do not live long enough to pass on the altered version. -On the Cross Examination of Yokai Cultures Through the Ages, by Shen Shuilong

  Watching Satoro struggle with people trying to win his hand was a lot less funny when I could feel just how distressed he was about it. For someone who was constantly growling and grousing, the echoes radiating off him had an underlying fear beneath the anger he projected towards the Chikara Chief. Before I fully realized what I was doing, I was crossing the distance to stand, surprisingly, at the Demon of Tragedy’s side.

  “Oh, Master Tsuyuki!” Iza greeted me with a bow as I approached, but I could see a blush of shame across her cheeks. “Please, forgive me. I had hoped that the situation could be resolved quickly so we might get to dinner.”

  “No need to apologize, Sect Leader. I simply couldn’t hear myself think over the sound of Satoro’s shouting.” I said, fixing the Chikara Chief with a stare. “What seems to be the problem here?” The oni tried to speak, but I raised my hand to stop him. “The question was rhetorical. Everyone on the street can hear your conversation.”

  My tone was cold. No longer was I the mediator that I tried to be between the Chikara and the Forgotten. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that.

  “Moon Moth, sir, you’ve been very kind to the district, and you’re a hero whose reputation is known to us all, but this is a personal matter,” answered the Chikara Chief. “It’s a matter for oni.”

  “It became everyone’s problem when you couldn’t keep your voices to a respectful level,” I snapped. “Now, a word of advice, don’t bother trying to force him to do anything. He is senior, even to me.”

  A dozen thoughts flashed across Sect Leader Iza’s face as she understood the full meaning of my words. She knew who I was, and if Satoro was senior to me, that limited the options as to his identity rather significantly. Her eyes met mine, and I could see the question. As hostess, it was her responsibility to treat every guest according to their station, and she just found out she was grievously failing in regard to Satoro, who should have been placed with us at the head of the room. However, I shook my head, warning her not to change. Satoro didn’t want that attention any more than I did, and while my position could be explained away by my recent achievements, he had none of that as cover. It was a problem for later.

  For now, though, it was clear that the Chieftain of the Chikara Oni was gearing up for another round. He didn’t know the full context behind my words, believing himself my senior in age, if not cultivation.

  “Respectfully, Moon Moth, I simply wished to inquire with Master Satoro as to a mutually beneficial arrangement.” His words were respectful, even if he still didn’t know how to take no for an answer. I cast a glance at Satoro, whose red eyes were pinned on me with curiosity.

  An idea popped into my head, a way to humiliate the Chikara Chief without necessarily alienating his people from our cause. It was perfect. I turned to him, eyes cool.

  “That’s unfortunate, given that Kaishin Satoro is already married, and to a princess, no less,” I declared. Next to me, Satoro stiffened, but the echoes of his qi rang with a bittersweet kernel of joy, like a candle holding strong, despite the rainstorm falling upon it.

  “Xiao-ru,” he whispered, but I ignored him.

  “If you’d done any sort of research on him, or even bothered to ask those who knew him, you’d know this,” I pointed out, crossing my arms.

  The Chikara Chief was stunned. “But…but.”

  “Now, with that matter sorted,” I turned to Satoro, “Have you seen Xinya’s dress, yet? It’s absolutely stunning.”

  Hearing her cue, Xinya rushed up and twirled for Satoro. I knew how much the little girl looked up to the Oni Prince. Maybe not as much as she looked up to the Sword Saint, or even up to me, but she loved stories. The fact she got to meet and live with characters from the pages of legend made her happy. That she got to show off her new dress to two of those legends in one day, the happiness echoing off her was palpable.

  “Sister Kirana bought it for me! Do you like it?” she spun around. For dramatic effect, as the light reflected off the lightning embroidery, Xinya summoned her lightning qi around her skirts, altering its composition to be all sound, and without the bite or the flash of regular lightning. The air crackled around her in a dazzling display.

  “You’re getting good at that technique,” the Oni Prince praised. He wasn’t the only one. I spied Xiaolong and Shion also looking at the dazzling display in awe.

  “Isn’t she?” I said.

  “I’m not finished yet!” shouted the Chikara Chief. Heat flared around him, forcing his two children to take a worried step back. “I don’t care which harlot he claims to be married to! If he were really taken, he wouldn’t be such a drunken layabout.”

  Interesting choice of words for someone you’re trying to make your son-in-law, I thought to myself, but I didn’t have the chance to speak.

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  The Oni Chief had made one critical error. He insulted the Princess of Ren in the presence of the Demon of Tragedy. This was about to get ugly.

  “What did you say?” Satoro’s voice went dangerously low. I pulled Xinya away from him.

  “Gentlemen,” Iza interrupted. “This is a celebration. It’s clear that your differences cannot be settled, but I’d ask you take the violence outside to the courtyard.

  “If that’s how it is,” said the chief, as if he were expecting someone to leap to his defense and was surprised that no one had, “then I invoke the old ways of the Oni tribes. I challenge Kaishin Satoro to single combat for the offense he has given my clan.”

  To my surprise, Satoro actually relaxed. A smirk grew on his blue lips. “You are not qualified to fight me. I don’t stoop for ants, so I will pick another to fight for me.”

  “That’s not how it works!”

  Satoro’s eyes flashed brilliant red, and the jade qi of his core began sparking off his skin. “Do not presume to tell me about the old ways. My clan founded them.” The Chief growled but did not question him further. “I pick the kid, as the only one with the proper title to avenge her fellow princess.”

  “What? A kid? You dare insult me in thi-”

  “Shut up. Xinya, come here.”

  “Wait, me?” Xinya asked, approaching the oni. I was just as stunned. Had Satoro finally lost his damned marbles?

  The Oni Prince knelt before the girl. “I don’t know if your uncle has told you this, but you look just like his sister in that outfit. If there’s any princess I’d trust to uphold my beloved’s name, it would have been her. She was fierce, and I see that ferocity in your eyes, like a little wolf. So, Wolf Princess, you will fight for me.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” I hissed to him. “That oni is three times her size.”

  “Yeah, should be an easy fight,” he confirmed. “But, just in case, here’s a little something extra.”

  He tapped her head, and I watched qi flow from his hand into her. She stiffened before closing her eyes and focusing for a moment. Her core warped and shifted inside her, becoming more refined as she layered qi through her body, as if by instinct.

  “What was that?” she asked when it passed.

  “Advancement. Congrats, kid.”

  Uneasiness filled me as I studied her qi. The black thread of void qi that was her bloodline still twisted around her core in an ugly coil of death that wanted to unravel her from the inside. It powered itself with her advancement, if Reili’s information was correct. At Silver, she might start showing symptoms as her blood began to tear her apart from within.

  “I would not have approved that, Satoro,” I hissed to him as we all began walking outside.

  “That’s why I didn’t ask, pipsqueak.”

  “Her bloodline is incompatible with her path.”

  “And you know the cure for that is advancing to Salt, right? Honestly, Xiao-ru. I did you both a favor.” Satoro’s gaze was level and serious.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” I muttered back. It was done, now. Nothing I could do to change it. Xinya seemed fine enough. She coughed slightly as she took her place at one side of the courtyard.

  As hostess, it was Sect Leader Iza’s right to officiate. She stood between the seething oni and the little girl in her dress. For a moment, the Obake seemed to mourn the girl, or maybe it was just that she was mourning the dress and how much work she put into Xinya’s hair which would no doubt be ruined shortly.

  “Let us hope for a quick and honorable match, or at least as honorable as can be between an adult and an eleven-year-old,” she announced. “That way the rest of us may return to our celebration. Chief Chikara, Princess Lang, you may begin when ready.”

  The Chief didn’t hesitate even a moment. He lunged forward, his body wreathed in flames. He was like a meteor, and I began chewing my lip in worry. Lin put a hand on my shoulder as we watched together.

  Xinya threw herself to the side, rolling back to her feet just in time to launch a bolt of lightning from her fingertips. Electricity slammed into the Oni’s back, and he involuntarily tensed from the blow. It was far more powerful than any bolt I’d seen her conjure before, and that fact was not lost upon her. She stared at her hand as it dawned on her that she had actually advanced to Silver with Satoro’s assistance.

  Confidence filled the little girl as she went on the offensive. Bolt after bolt launched from her in wave after wave of crackling lavender. Her accuracy was true, but the Chikara Chief weathered the bolts until he forced himself to turn and face the girl.

  “That’s enough of that, you brat. I didn’t want to bully a child, but it seems you need to be taught some manners.”

  “Go ahead and try,” she spat, lifting her chin in defiance. “Stronger men than you have tried to teach me manners for years.”

  “Good luck,” Lin and I both said dryly before exchanging a look of surprise that we’d spoken in perfect unison. I tried and failed not to laugh as I turned back to the fight.

  The Chikara Chief lunged, his fist clenched into a fiery punch that surely would have cracked solid stone. Xinya ducked underneath it, using her superior speed and small size to jab a lightning bolt directly into his stomach before trying to dart out of his reach. The Chief grunted and spun, grabbing the loops of Xinya’s hair and pulling her back into his grasp.

  Lin’s grip on my shoulder tightened, and I began counting back minutes, just in case things got out of hand and a Flash Back was required.

  “You brat!” With a roar of triumph, he threw his fist forward, hurling Xinya to the ground. She rolled across the courtyard, dirt dampening the flashing embroidery of her skirts. The coral hairpin from Saikan fell on the ground between them, only to be crushed by the Chikara Chief’s boot a moment later.

  My own anger spiked, and Lin flinched briefly before I felt his own rebound back across our bond. That pin was from Saikan. I bought it at the last Moonfall Festival for Xinya’s tenth birthday. Given our current status as fugitives of the Shore, we couldn’t get her another.

  “I’m going to kill him,” I muttered.

  Lin matched my fury. “Not if I get to him first.”

  “Both of you settle down and watch, will you?” Satoro jerked his head towards where Xinya was staring at the boot that crushed her hairpin.

  “That pin was from my hometown,” she said just loud enough for the gathered crowd to hear. Several Blushing Rose Disciples winced, empathizing with the girl.

  “What are you going to do about it?” the Chikara Chief growled.

  Slowly, deliberately, Xinya pushed herself to her feet. Moon-coated lightning rippled over her skin and through her hair. Dirt visibly evaporated from her clothes and skin, and her hair began pinning itself back into place.

  “Isn’t that one of your techniques?” Lin asked.

  I couldn’t answer. All the fury inside me melted and was replaced by pure pride. She was altering reality to fix her hair and clothes! It was the very technique that she’d identified the day we met, as she walked up to me and asked if I was a god. Without my prompting or guidance, she had learned it for herself!

  “You are standing on my hairpin.” Xinya’s voice was low and smooth. “Get. Off.”

  “Or what?”

  “I will erase you.”

  The Chief scoffed. “Yeah, right. As if you have that kind of power. You’re just a kid.”

  “I am Lang Xinya. My ancestor was Princess Chouko of Lanyue. In my veins flows the same blood as the Darkened Moon. Remove your foot before I cut it off.”