“Did you know my parents?”
“I knew your mother well. Aye.” Masaru held up his hands and made a small, fiery ball in his palm. Inside, an image formed of a beautiful woman with snow-white skin and ebony hair. Cherry blossoms fell from her comb, and their pink matched the color of her lips and cheeks.
Ryuichi stared in awe. “She’s beautiful.”
“She was indeed. But her heart was frigid... until she met your father.”
He set his tea aside. “How do you mean?”
“Your father was a fierce warrior, Ryuichi. They called him Ryu the Dragon because he moved so fast and deadly that no one could touch him in battle. His legend went all the way to the Imperial Court of China, where even the emperor there feared his name and his sword.”
That caught his attention and made him widen his eyes.
Masaru moved closer to take the rice cake from Ryuichi’s platter. “Like all great men, his enemies were many. They united with the help of the Bureau of Onmyo.”
Ryuichi was surprised by that. The Bureau of Onmyo was a joke. Just a group of diviners who practiced for the emperor. Not even the shogun believed in their abilities, as they were wrong more often than right. “I don’t understand.”
Masaru swallowed the rice cake, then licked his fingers. “In your father’s time, the bureau was very different from the one you know. Back then they were a force to be reckoned with. Powerful exorcists... great fighters who believed your father had a demon inside him.”
“Like the way I’m supposed to fight using you?”
Masaru shook his head. “Oh no. Wa Jin Sen Ryuis a fighting style where you invoke a god to use you as their tool in battle. That’s what we are, and what you’re training to do here. Possession is an entirely different matter. That’s done against the will of the person they take over. The possessed is enslaved to the demon who has commandeered their body, and they have no say in what the demon says or does. That was what they were convinced your father was. An unwilling host to an inhuman evil.”
“Why?”
“Because of the sword he carried. Zangetsu.”
Moon slayer? That didn’t make any sense. Most samurai named their swords.
Unless... “Was it a yokai?”
“They thought it was. Zangetsu had a long, bloody history before your father claimed it in battle. You know how most blades are brittle and break?”
“Of course.” It was why most samurai carried two, and why they relied on their bows and spears more than their swords.
Masaru paused before he spoke again. “Men have wielded Zangetsu in thousands of battles.”
Ryuichi’s eyes widened. Surely Masaru was joking. “How?” No sword had ever lasted so long.
“The stories claim it was forged by the sword god Takemikazuchi.”
“Seriously?”
Masura inclined his head to him. “One and the same. Even better, they say it was a sword Takemikazuchi used when he came down to the Middle Country to subjugate the kunitsukami.”
Ryuichi sucked his breath in. Takemikazuchi had been intent on dominating the terrestrial gods. It’d been a bloodbath, or so the stories claimed. “Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know. Whatever its origins, Zangetsu has powers. There’s no denying that.” He poured himself a cup of tea. “Do I think it possessed your father?” He shrugged. “Doubtful.”
“Then what did?”
“His shadow.” Masaru’s white eyes held an eerie glint. “My theory is that your father’s guilt consumed him so much that it enabled his shadow to take over. That it was able to swallow his decency until nothing remained.”
Ryuichi shook his head. He didn’t buy that. “Not possible. Light destroys the shadows.”
“No, Ryuichi. It doesn’t.” Masaru’s tone sent a chill down his spine. “You need light in order to see the shadow. To reveal it. But it’s always there, whether you see it or not.”
That made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “But what of total darkness? There’s no shadow then.”
