24 – Maddened Crowd

The gathered yokai stared intently at the sealed gourd while a chilly wind blew into the mouth of the cave. There were three of them, two lean and humanoid who stood under the massive shadow of a massive bull-horned one.

“Well,” Sha said, running a hand through his short mane of golden hair. “Inumi’s dead. Leave it to that fool to die so early into things.” By yokai standards he was a handsome man, with a lean build and reddish skin. Two small horns sprouted from his forehead, curling upward. He was relaxed in that moment, but those who knew him knew how his skin could blaze like fire when he used his qi.

“At least he had the good sense to put his gourd with that messenger bird,” Orochi remarked. His limbs were long and sinewy, covered in a layer of pale green scales. There was no hair upon his bald head, just concentric rings of short horns. He lifted the jug, slitted serpentine eyes examining it. “And he did get some decent power into the thing.”

“I should hope so, given that gang of idiots he collected to raise hell,” Sha replied. He sighed, leaning back into the large flat stone he had taken as a chair. “Still… it’s nowhere near enough. Where’d he bite it?”

“Down south, near the coast. At least, that was the direction he was heading when he last got in touch,” said Orochi.

Sha considered this, pursing his lips and rubbing at his pointed jaw. “I think there’s a sect down there. Rose Snake or something like that. You reckon they got him?”

Orochi shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t think the south is all that dangerous, it’s why he was down that way and not us.”

They fell silent as the bull-horned oni reached over, pinching the gourd between his massive thumb and index finger. “Humans can be tricky. And Inumi’s foolishness may well have alerted them to our movements. Certainly, cultivators and men of influence will wonder why an oni was roaming around causing trouble in such an unremarkable region.” Though his voice was deep and powerful, like the rumbling of thunder, he spoke with the refined accent of a politician of the northern provinces.

“Yeah, well…” Orochi scratched his chin, choosing his words carefully as Ushio’s burning ruby eyes fell upon him. “We’re pretty far from ready, you know. The Demon King’s seal…”

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“I am aware,” said Ushio, gently setting the gourd down. He sighed, and the rumbling weight of that sigh sent a small tremor racing through their hillside meeting place. “Perhaps it was foolish to send Inumi on his own. I thought such a weak region could not threaten him, and yet…”

He reached up with a massive dark hand, rubbing at the ridge of stone-like scales that dominated his jawline. “I am not one for sentimentality, but…”

Sha leaned in, watching Ushio carefully. “But…?”