The Night the Fox Came Alone

Perhaps it was because I had spent so much time in Aria's company, but her absence weighed on me far more than I'd expected. She had completed her coming-of-age ceremony and departed for the Academy, and ever since, the empty space where she used to be felt conspicuously large. My educational routine had ended long ago, so mornings used to be whiled away in idle conversation with her — and now there was only silence.

Of course, the Academy granted a holiday every semester, so she would return to the Imperial Palace then. But that was five long months away.

And so my days came to be dominated by the training grounds. Growing the body I had pushed past its limits through rapid, leaps-and-bounds progress — that, too, would be nearing its final stages around next year.

Then, at night, I slipped beyond the capital's walls using Water Walking. Beyond the well-maintained carriage roads lay thickets that had yet to feel a heavy human hand, and those woodlands were the perfect place to summon the Hundred Ghosts. Real combat experience wasn't something you could only gain by battling monsters in the Barren Lands — sparring against the Hundred Ghosts worked just as well.

It was efficient enough that I cursed myself for not thinking of it far sooner.

"Hundred Demons' Night Parade."

Tonight, however, I summoned Miho from within my quarters in the palace. After all, invoking the Night Parade to call forth Miho alone didn't make it impossible to summon the rest of the Hundred Ghosts afterward — the word didn't work that way.

Originally I'd been crossing the capital's gates alone under Water Walking, but come to think of it, I could simply ride Miho's shikigami and fly. As long as I concealed only the moment of launching skyward, I could slash my travel distance dramatically.

"Your humble servant greets you, my lord."

Wearing the clothes I had personally gifted her, Miho bowed her head, nine tails swaying. Then she glanced around, realized she was the only one summoned, and — smiling with evident delight — nestled herself into my arms. The sensation of her chest pressing against my forearm was no less than Lapis's, and I flinched before I could stop myself.

I distinctly remembered having granted her special treatment in the past — going so far as to kiss her on her own insistence, telling her not to cling so brazenly. Yet instead of being satisfied with that, Miho's hunger for my affection had only swelled with each passing day.

"Would my lord care to share a drink with me?"

Where there is a woman, and where there is a man, alcohol seems an absolutely indispensable presence — or so Miho seemed to believe as she gently swayed the water cup on the table. A pungent, nose-stinging aroma of alcohol seeped into the air. With that one insignificant gesture, plain water had simply become wine.

She can even do that?

That was easier said than done. Miho was a yokai familiar enough that I'd encountered her constantly across countless media in my past life — and yet her trove of legends was so vast that there was still plenty I didn't know.

"Hmhm… your yang energy has grown abundant — indeed, it's begun to overflow."

Taking a sip of the wine, Miho closed the distance she had briefly withdrawn and slipped softly into my arms, whispering against my ear in a clinging voice.

"If you would but use your servant, I can restore that balance for you as often as you please."

She didn't seem to be using any particular charm — and yet, with Miho's supple body pressed against mine without a single gap, my arousal ground against her so insistently that it ached. Well, of course. With a beauty like her openly cultivating such a lascivious atmosphere at my side, failing to respond would be a problem of an entirely different kind.

I had no particular intention of practicing abstinence either, and felt no aversion; I rested a hand on Miho's waist, drew my lower body tight against her, and prodded her lower belly with my arousal, intending to surrender myself briefly to desire — but for some reason, a strange guilt crept over me at that moment, and I pushed her gently away. The desire that had flared so quickly even transmuted that guilt into a kind of decadent, perverse pleasure. Setting aside, of course, the image of my fiancée Lapis flashing through my mind—

But Aria. Why on earth Aria?

"My lord?"

Meeting Miho's uncomprehending gaze, I stroked her twitching ears a couple of times, then sat down in a chair and dragged a hand down my face. Miho, too, seemed to realize the mood would not continue, and quietly settled onto my lap, swaying her tails and squirming like a child.

「 You may return for today. 」

With that, after a brief silence, I wrote the words and showed them to her, then sent her on her way. Miho's tails swayed behind a face tinged with a curious wistfulness, but she made no fuss, surrendering herself to the spreading mist and vanishing without a trace.

Left alone in my chamber, I paced aimlessly for a while, then drained the cup Miho had transformed into wine in one clean swallow, lay down on my bed, and stared blankly at the ceiling. It had been a long time since I'd skipped a day of training.

That day…

That fire Aria had lit with her teasing at my coming-of-age ceremony — was it still smoldering, an ember that refused to die? For some reason, it was a maddeningly sleepless night.

"Seamless Heavenly Garment."

The next day, after another restless one, I resisted Miho's temptations and went beyond the capital, where I summoned the Hundred Ghosts and invoked the Seamless Heavenly Garment. The attribute I applied was martial technique. I usually favored weapon-related attributes, but since my current sparring partner, Dueoksini, wielded a club, I had no choice.

The massive club Dueoksini carried carried such staggering weight that now that my physical level had risen to equal his own, it was a weapon I simply could not handle. Thus the sparring began — and even though Fairness had been calibrated to my body, we fought to a dead heat.

Truthfully, "dead heat" was an embarrassing way to put it. There had originally been an unbridgeable gulf in physique between Dueoksini and me, one that should have produced an overwhelming difference in raw strength — but with Fairness in effect, that advantage was nullified, so his enormous frame was arguably a liability now.

The fact that I was only managing an even match while Dueoksini was clearly holding back was itself plain evidence of my inadequacy.

"…Damn it."

And even that parity only held in the opening exchanges. The longer the sparring went on, the more wretchedly I was driven back.

"It's simply that your experience is lacking, so worry not overmuch."

This was martial technique applied through the Seamless Heavenly Garment. My form left nothing to be desired, and with our physical levels equalized, strength could hardly be the issue. So as Dueoksini said, this gap was the product of pure inexperience.

"Your movements are far too honest, my lord. Your technique is overwhelming, so deep down you seem to believe that even if your opponent reads your next move, it won't matter."

At those words, I flinched almost imperceptibly.

"That manner of thinking will one day become poison, and it will tear out your throat."

"Really? Then what should I do about it?"

"Simply fight dishonestly. Because of my size, my movements are plain to see, which makes it easy for an opponent to block my attacks — but viewed the other way, it also means I can bait an opponent's actions. Strike them with an irregular attack at that moment, and their stance is bound to crumble."

Scratching my head, I borrowed a little from my past-life memories to make it easier to understand.

"Since your frame is smaller than mine, my lord, this manner of fighting will be all the more effective for you."

It sounded like a kind of ankle-breaker. In basketball, when driving past a defender at high speed with a dribble, disrupting the route they intend to block throws their footwork out of sync and collapses them on the spot. Put more simply — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the instant you feint left and then cut right, the defender's balance is thrown askew by their own momentum. The explanation is easy; the execution demands overwhelming technique.

But with the Seamless Heavenly Garment, I would reach the ultimate in pure technique — so it didn't seem like it would be difficult.

"Thank you."

"Not at all."

"Then let's continue."

The summoned Hundred Ghosts had each found a spot and were resting quietly. Rohen, who had summoned them, likewise finished his sparring, was led by the hand of the Nine-Tailed Fox, and lay his head in her lap to take his rest. And around that Nine-Tailed Fox, smiling happily as she stroked Rohen's hair, sat the eastern yokai.

"I can't stand it."

The sparrow-shaped demon — Caym, ranked 53rd among the 72 Demons of Solomon. Perched atop the Sphinx's head, he glared at the Nine-Tailed Fox with unconcealed displeasure. The Hundred Ghosts here shared one another's memories. Everyone needed to know the abilities born of each legend in order to coordinate in battle.

And so they also knew that the Nine-Tailed Fox had spent comparatively far more intimate time with their master, Rohen.

"…Playing the favored concubine just because she got a little attention. It's pathetic to watch."

"If it displeases you so, why not go tell her yourself?"

"Shut up."

At the Sphinx's remark, Caym irritably drummed his tiny bird feet against its head.

"Do not shame me."

The Sphinx growled and tried to menace him, but Caym merely chirped as though it were beneath notice.

"Have you forgotten that everyone here already knows the answers to every riddle you pose?"

The Sphinx's power only took effect when an opponent failed to answer its riddles. But every one of the Hundred Ghosts here shared memories — which meant they all knew the answers to the three riddles the Sphinx could pose according to its legends:

So, though it galled him, the Sphinx held his tongue and quietly bowed his head.

"Don't take your frustrations out on the wrong party. It changes nothing whether or not she receives any extra of our master's attention — her place at the top of the Hundred Ghosts is fixed. What irritates me is that the eastern yokai strut about as though her favor extends to them as well."

Gremory, ranked 56th among the 72 Demons of Solomon — the sole demon recorded in legend as female, the lone rose among the seventy-two. Toying with her signature red hair as she reclined at ease on the Sphinx's back, she cut a figure of considerable sensuality.

"That's exactly what irritates me, I said."

There was no argument to be had — the Nine-Tailed Fox's body of legend was overwhelming. When the memories had first been shared, his head had ached for hours. No one present would deny her strength.

It was simply that, as Gremory had said, when the Nine-Tailed Fox basked in Rohen's attention, the other eastern yokai tried to ride her coattails — and that did not sit well. If anything, the fox had cunningly exploited exactly that, keeping the eastern yokai arranged neatly beneath her feet…

The real problem ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was that if this continued, their own points of contact with their master Rohen might dwindle to nothing. Rohen had shown a relative warmth toward the eastern yokai from the very start; at this rate, they might genuinely starve on cold scraps.

"Ha… I can bear it no longer. I suppose I must offer some advice to that airheaded creature over there, mindlessly nursing her blood."

Flapping his wings, Caym launched himself from the Sphinx's head and flew toward the Vampire perched on a distant tree.

"What do you want?"

The Vampire, enjoying a moonlight bath in the silver light, turned her head with an expression of pure annoyance at Caym's approach. Without a shred of preamble, he laid out his vulgar business in the most direct terms possible.

"Have you any thought of spreading your legs for our master?"

"Pfft!"

Though the distance was considerable, his voice carried clearly — and Gremory, sprawled on the Sphinx's back, burst into peals of scandalized laughter.

"Are you… insane?"

Glaring at him as though he were beyond all reason, the Vampire opened a cut on her own finger. But even with that banquet of blood swirling around him, Caym didn't so much as blink.

"There is a perfectly sound reason, so hear me out before you resort to violence."

"Talk, then."

"First of all, on our side, you are the only being whose legends rival the Nine-Tailed Fox's."

However distorted and retold their stories had become over the ages, the Vampire stood on equal footing with the fox. In truth, even the Nine-Tailed Fox did not treat her carelessly. If anything, she kept her distance.

"So?"

"Do you truly intend to let that woman go on playing the master's favorite concubine?"

"At least I'm not in any danger of failing to receive our master's attention — unlike the rest of you."

"Spoken with all the smug arrogance of a maiden who's never known the fear of a good rutting."

Caym slammed his talons down on the branch beneath him, his frustration plain.

"When the body goes, the heart follows naturally. If that woman mingles flesh with the master before you do, do you honestly believe you'll have any place left to stand? Why do humans never understand that this is what they are? The Nine-Tailed Fox has caught on to it — that is precisely why she keeps closing the distance. Narrow the gap in his heart, mingle the body, and monopolizing his affection is no difficult thing. Better still, coupling with a yokai of the Hundred Ghosts carries no danger whatsoever — so the frequency with which Rohen seeks her out will only climb higher and higher."

However fine a pair of legendary blades one owns, in the end it's the familiar, comfortable one that gets drawn. Such is the natural order of things.

"Then go tell Gremory to do it. Why pin down someone who has no interest?"

"I come to you because, as the representative emblem of our Western lineage, you are the fitting one for it. Besides, it's rather amusing for a walking corpse to be calling herself a person."

"What did you say?"

"Isn't your maidenhead just a spider's web, and that womb of yours a decorative ornament you carry around out of some vague hollowness in your belly? A corpse that walks and talks — what exactly do you think you'd be spreading your legs for?"

"You…! You mad little bastard with a hole for a mouth!"

Face flooding scarlet with shame, the Vampire thrust out her slender hand and seized Caym by the neck in a flash.

"Have you forgotten the common knowledge that the Hundred Ghosts cannot kill one another? Or is a stake lodged between your legs rather than through your heart, that you recoil so— khk!"

They could not kill each other. But there was nothing stopping them from doing harm.

Unable to contain her fury, the Vampire wrenched Caym's neck viciously out of joint and hurled him far into the distance. Then she turned her back, breathing hard.

Was it that she had no desire at all for her master's favor? No. It was simply that, according to the legends, the Vampire was not a living being. Her body's senses were not entirely absent, but they were too ambiguous to call present. Thanks to that, she had no vital points, which was convenient — but it also made her, undeniably, a stone woman. She could still share a bed with someone, but honestly… she did not believe it could ever become a night that satisfied them both.

And knowing nothing of that heart of hers, hearing Caym spew such filth — how could her rage not boil over?

"Guh…!"

Caym, for his part, lay fallen deep in the forest, shuddering as he spread his wings. His sense of direction was shot. Just how far had he flown? Now that he looked, he'd shed quite a few feathers as well.

Best to head back first, he thought — and Caym turned his ears to the voice of the trees.

According to legend, Caym could take the memories etched into every object in the world and render them audible as sound — a kind of psychometry. Originally he could even divine the future through it, though that aspect lay beyond his reach here. Beyond that, he was renowned for his command of logic, unmatched in sophistry — the sort of being who could make even a laughing child weep with a single sentence.

Such was Caym, ranked 53rd among the 72 Demons of Solomon.