In a fair footrace through the streets of his Capital city, Kuro would win paws-down. But humans were never fair.

A delivery boy veered into his path, forcing Kuro to lose precious seconds by whirling around him, only to run into a palanquin. The samurai guards rested their hands on their hilts and glared at him as Kuro tried to dash right and then left. The guards kept getting in the bloody way. Finally, he crawled under the palanquin, only for a basket peddler to stop in front of him to yell at the surrounding humans. Mochi scattered around Kuro like falling leaves as he was forced to dance and whirl around them.

The humans were ganging up on him. Any patch of street that had once been empty suddenly filled with humans, while the retainers strode through unobstructed. The lower ranked merchants and artisans scampered out of their way, while the samurai guards nodded their greetings.

Almost like they smelled Kuro’s disguise. Kuro shook his head. They couldn’t even smell the difference between one human and another. They couldn’t know.

The only point in Kuro’s favour was that the sun was still high in the sky, so he had hours before they shut the residential gates. If he didn’t lose them by nightfall — what a stupid thought. Of course he’d lose them by then.

He had to get out of the humans’ domain. But where? Up north toward the Dragon Shrine, with the tumbling Imperial Palace walls gloating over its artisan neighbours? Down south toward the Shogun’s Palace, so more samurai could swarm him? The retainers wouldn’t dare invade Inari Shrine, but that was never an option.

The Riverbank Settlement. The retainers would rather cut off their balls than descend into human filth. This was his only chance.

A dozen workmen spilled out of an oden shop, lurching side to side and laughing brazenly after indulging in a few early drinks. Perfect. Kuro crossed the street slow enough for the retainers to follow. Too drunk to recognise the retainers’ topknots, they refused to move out of the retainers’ way. When the retainers attempted to shove their way through, the workmen yelled and shoved them back.

Grinning, Kuro slipped behind them and turned a corner, leaving the crowded streets of lattice-covered shops for the empty roads surrounded by plastered garden walls. But as he reached the next crossroad, the two retainers entered the alley. The first retainer jabbed a finger at Kuro, and they both picked up their pace.

If only Kuro could transform into his real self. He could have easily jumped over the walls before the samurai pounded after him. But in this human form, he’d have to ditch the mochi and while he struggled to scale the wall, the samurai would drag him down by his ankles.

Why were they even still chasing him? They must have gotten the same chuckles out of the boy-samurai’s humiliation as the lady. They should have gotten more, since they were both a decade older than the boy — or so Kuro reckoned. Human years were so difficult to figure out. They aged so quickly that by the time he figured out they might be toddlers or middle-aged, they’d turned another decade completely. But Kuro was pretty sure that grey hairs and wrinkles meant old, and yet the retainers had to serve a boy who had probably never even seen a demon before.

They couldn’t possibly be loyal to a brat like that. Oh no, humans weren’t much different than spirits. They only cared about themselves. The boy-samurai must be rich and they hoped for a reward. They couldn’t be too clever, then.

But Kuro couldn’t laugh them off either. They might be no better than dogs, but dogs were terrifying and so were samurai. Samurai didn’t arrest human thieves. They hired commoners do to that distasteful duty. If the retainers chased him down, then they meant to test their swords on him and leave his body for the Undesirables to collect.

Kuro turned left and groaned. Though the street was only three paces wide, it stretched on for ages. There was no way he could lose sight of the retainers. But the wall on the left curved in to create an alcove for the house’s gate. He checked over his shoulder for his pursuers, then grinned and darted into the alcove’s shadow.

Wooden sandals pounded as the retainers entered the street. Really, couldn’t they be more graceful? Their running gave him a headache. With his arms full of mochi, he couldn’t even cover his ears.

The clatter of sandals came closer. He held his breath.

If they noticed the alcove, if they noticed him in the shadows… He bent his knees, ready to duck under flying swords.

The retainers passed, eyes trained in front of them, and continued to run down the road. Clouds of dust billowed in their wake, like a blessing from the gods to hide him.

Kuro held his breath when they stopped at the next crossroad. They leaned left and right, searching for a sign of him as they cursed loud enough that the wealthy merchant families living along the lane would complain. The retainers threw their hands around as they argued, and then split right and left. Neither noticed they’d left their prey far behind.

Not that he was any human’s prey. Kuro was a mighty spirit, full of divine power. This time next year, their boy samurai would be begging favours from Kuro. The boy should be grateful he’d get to grovel to Kuro instead of a bunch of flea-bitten rabbits.

He collapsed against the wall as he laughed. Mochi slipped through his hands and rolled on the dirt.

“Damn it.” Kuro bit into one of the little white cakes. His eyes widened as he tasted red bean paste instead. “Fantastic!”

The boy samurai at least had good taste in sweets. Kuro shoved more of the little cakes into his mouth, chewing and swallowing as fast as his stomach allowed.

His first and only meal of the day, and it happened to be red bean mochi. It must be an auspicious day for Kuro. Maybe he should return to the rabbit shrine after he finished the pile. With this kind of good fortune, maybe the rabbits would finally give into despair at the loss of such a feast and sign over their shrine to him.

Two shouts ran shivers up his spine. So much for auspicious. He knelt, ready to run, as he checked the crossroads. But that side of the street remained empty. The voices came from the opposite direction. Kuro peeked around the alcove corner.

“Get it!”

Two boys in indigo-dyed kimono ran up the streets as loudly as the retainers. But these boys wielded stones in their fists instead of swords. Kuro narrowed his eyes, and stuffed three more mochi into his mouth.

Four paces in front of them, a raccoon dog tanuki pup scrambled over the gravel. Figuring out tanuki ages were so much easier than humans.

One boy threw his stone. The rock struck the ground hard enough to leave a gouge. The tanuki screamed, darting hard to the right, giving up one and a half paces. At this rate, he wouldn’t even reach the crossroads.

Kuro swallowed his mochi and leaned back. He still had an armful left. The boys wouldn’t dare attack him. If he just stayed in the alcove, he’d be fine.

The tanuki scrambled past him. The other boy threw his stone, hitting the pup square on the back. The pup yelped and fell, sliding along the dirt.

Kuro rolled his eyes as the boys cheered. The pup struggled to stand again.

“Hit it again!” The boys stopped next to the tanuki. “Kick it!”

That’s it! Kuro stepped out between the boys and the tanuki, his arms tight around his remaining mochi pile. “Oi!”

The boys shrank back as Kuro towered over them. They were at least two heads shorter. What did that make them in human years?

He leaned forward with his scariest glower. “Scram.”

They jerked back, but then the one with the good aim pulled himself up. “We’re on official business from the samurai.”

The other boy added, “We’re clearing the streets of the Night Parade threat.”

He blew a lock of black hair out of his eyes. “Then where’s your sigil?”

“Sigil?” The boys looked at each other.

“The sigil the Shogun’s office would give you to flash around and act all tough.”

“Does it matter?” the boy with good aim asked. “A demon’s a demon.”

“And an idiot is an idiot. Look at him.” Kuro shrugged a shoulder at the tanuki. “He’s a child, just like you.”

“We’re not children!”

He rolled his eyes. “He’s not even old enough to shapeshift. And you think he fights beside the strongest, most powerful demons in the Empire?”

“Er…” The boy looked to his friend for support.

“It doesn’t matter,” his friend said. “My cousin’s farm was attacked by the Night Parade. Hundreds of demons descended on their farm and ate his family. We need to protect ourselves.”

“From a babe?” Kuro snorted. The tanuki still struggled to rise to his feet.

“It’ll grow up into a demon!”

Like these two boys would grow up into ruthless humans who would delight in the slaughter of baby tanuki. Bending toward them, Kuro checked over his shoulder and whispered, “You want to know what does matter?”

The boys leaned into Kuro, eager to drink in Kuro’s secret wisdom. “What does, mister?”

“That I’m both bigger and stronger than you.” He grinned wide, showing off white human teeth. “And I’ve got fangs.”

He snapped his jaw at them. Both boys screamed and hugged each other.

“Run!” Kuro yelled.

They scattered, pumping their little legs as fast as they could.

Kuro sniffed, and ate another mochi for a reward. As if he’d bother to eat such little rats. Actually, since he meant to become a god, he probably shouldn’t eat humans at all. Only demons ate humans. Humans messed with the digestion something awful and turned into demonic miasma. It made the demons more powerful, but they couldn’t step on sacred ground.

Behind them, a high-pitched voice asked him, “W-why would you do that, fox?”

No thank you? No I’m eternally grateful to you and will now become your slave forever and ever? Children these days. Kuro turned to glare down at the pup. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t ask you to interfere!”

“That’s not how you thank people who save you from being beaten into a bloody pulp,” he said. “Or what you say to someone who is so much bigger and stronger and could crush you under a single sandal.”

“I could take you.” The pup bared his teeth at him.

Kuro laughed.

“And I so too could be part of the Night Parade!”

“In five hundred years, maybe. They don’t take kittens.”

“I’m not a cat!” The pup jumped at Kuro, sinking tiny teeth into his bare calf.

Kuro squeaked and shook his leg. The tanuki flew off, but not before scraping off the skin. He lay stunned, then jumped up and ran the opposite way from the boys.

Pressing his hand on the bitemark to stop the bleeding, Kuro sang, “At Shojoji Temple, the garden is bright on the moonlit night.”

The pup stopped and reared up on his hind legs. Pounding his belly to the beat, he sang back, “Let’s come together, we are tanuki friends, pon poki pon no pon.”

“Idiot.” Kuro rolled his eyes. “That’s how they’ll hunt you down. Humans know your lot can’t resist a song.”

The pup jerked, but didn’t protest. He scampered off.

Kuro kicked the dust, clutching his remaining pile of mochi tight to his chest to keep them from joining the ones on the ground. The ones that the pup had smashed and kicked dirt over. He squatted and picked up the fallen pieces. They might have rolled in human muck, but he was going to bury most of them for later anyway. If he didn’t lose them all before he reached his caches.

“Such a tender-hearted soul, meow.”

Kuro jerked, then bit back a groan as he looked up. The most annoying human-shaped girl in the Capital crouched on top of the garden wall. Orange, brown and white splotched her skin and fur, as if an ukiyo-e printer had thrown ink pots at her. On second thought, he would have been shocked if they hadn’t done so.

The Cat Girl licked the back of her hand and rubbed it over a cat ear.

Kuro snapped his teeth. “What do you want?”