The rabbit spirit’s blow must have made Kuro simple. He slapped away the human’s hand and backed up.

“What are you doing?” the human asked.

Kuro stuck his tongue out and ran for the wall. A pace away, Kuro jumped up. He extended his free hand as high as he could. If he shifted, just for a moment — but no, one ignorant human having seen him was one thing, allowing more would be suicidal. He grasped the tiles’ apex, the rest of his body hitting the wall with an air-expelling thump, but he held on.

“They’re almost at the entrance.” The human had edged as close as he could on the roof.

With one hand, Kuro pulled himself up. His arm shook, but damned if he was giving up his offerings. He flopped over the apex at the waist, but his weight and momentum carried him too far. He slid over the edge. The ground rose up to greet him. Kuro shielded his face with his free arm before he hit the dying grass. His bones crunched on impact.

Kuro gasped as pain spiralled up his limbs and spine. But this was no moment for laziness. He rolled over to get to his feet, but the maple dropped a flurry of leaves into his open mouth. He blew them out with a loud raspberry.

“Quiet,” the human whispered down.

On the other side of the wall, the samurai arrived in the dead end.

Kuro froze. If the human planned to give him up, he’d do it then. Kuro needed to run through the yard and into the townhouse. The occupied townhouse, judging by the scent of cooking miso. His chest and arm ached. How much longer could he run? Could he manage that anymore, or would he hobble down the lane, only to be caught by the sedately walking retainers?

“She must have been a ghost,” Mister Squash said.

“Don’t be ignorant,” Mister Caterpillar said. “The Sun Goddess is still high overhead. Ghosts can’t appear.”

“But we would have seen her leave.”

“Perhaps there was a gate—”

“Or she was a shapeshifter—”

Their voices grew quieter as they retreated. Kuro wanted to sigh in relief, but escaping had only been half the battle. The retainers would soon realise he was either a tanuki or kitsune, the two most common shapeshifters in the Capital, if they hadn’t already. But perhaps by then finding Kuro would be too much of a bother, and the samurai would put up a bounty and call it a day.

“Was that worth it?” the human asked.

Kuro groaned. He was still there?

“That seemed to hurt.”

“It did,” Kuro said. “But that’s nothing for someone as strong as me.”

He looked up in time to see the human press his fist against his mouth to hold back the laughter.

Kuro growled.

“Sorry.” The human held up two placating hands.

He grunted, but nodded.

The human slid a foot out until he found firm footing on the wall, then shifted his way until he sat on the apex. Instead of sliding over and landing face-first, he jumped into a crouch.

Kuro scrambled to his feet as his ribs complained. No way was he going to let even a human stand over him when he was in a defenceless position. He should escape to the opposite side of the yard while he had the chance, but it wasn’t as if the human had any weapons besides his voice.

Kuro leaned close and sniffed the male. Human, but also sandalwood, the most expensive incense that only daimyo lords could afford to offer the gods. An acolyte in one of the four shrines? But his kimono looked more like a servant’s from a third-rank samurai household.

But underneath the incense, beneath the stench of human sweat, there was something else. Something more. Kuro stepped closer, nosing his way up the human’s shoulder and neck. Something… He scrunched his nose, but that something evaded him.

The human put a hand behind his head, cheeks colouring. Embarrassed just because Kuro sniffed him? Humans were strange.

Kuro turned back to examine the human’s clear, soft skin. The human stared at Kuro’s chest — at Kuro’s mochi. Kuro narrowed his eyes. Like hell would he share his offerings with one more person.

But then the human would yell for the retainers, like the Cat Girl. He held up the mochi to stuff it into the human’s mouth, but the human leaned forward, his eyes glittering in happiness, and accepted a bite.

A human was eating out of Kuro’s hand! He stared at the human, who unlike when Kuro sniffed him, didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed. He smiled as he chewed.

Kuro held out the cake again, and the human took another bite. Kuro’s eyes widened as he stared at the half-eaten mochi. He’d trained a human, like humans trained deer to nibble grain from their palms.

The human brushed his lips against Kuro’s fingers.

Heat raised in Kuro’s face faster than a kimono shop caught fire. He stared at his fingers. Little spots of dampness shone in the dappled sunlight.

Kuro shoved the remaining piece into the human’s chest. The human fumbled to catch it. Definitely not like feeding deer. He turned his back on the human before the human noticed the transformation in Kuro’s face.

The human clapped his hands together in prayer position. “Thank you for the mochi.”

Kuro wrenched open his lips to thank him for not alerting the retainers, but his face was far too red for any words to come out. He lifted a shoulder to shrug in indifference, and pretended to eat.

“I’m Ten—Ren,” the human said.

“Tenren?” Kuro snorted. “What sort of ridiculous name is that?”

“It’s just Ren, actually.”

“You must come from a hoighty family,” Kuro said. “Mister I Have a Family Name.”

“Oh that?” Ren made a considering noise. “That was… Where I’m from.”

“From Ten?” Kuro turned around to eye his kimono again.

“Er, yes.”

“I’ve never heard of Ten.”

“It’s very far away.”

“I’ve also never heard of a farmer’s son who escaped to a city with such a nice kimono.” He arched a brow. “And fewer still who are allowed to wear it as an Undesirable.”

“Oh, I’m not a farmer’s son.”

“Then?” Kuro narrowed his eyes.

“Er…”

“Never mind.” Whatever Ren said next would be a lie. But whoever Ren was, his kimono spelled one thing — money. “Is this your house?”

Ren blinked at the empty veranda. Pots rustled inside the house. “Um, actually, we’re trespassing. We should probably leave before they catch us.”

Personally, Kuro didn’t care so long as the family weren’t rich enough to file a complaint with the samurai, but they did have a storehouse, even if it was only one story, so they probably were. Kuro tossed Ren another mochi, gobbling the rest down himself. He kept only one. “Lead the way.”

Ren tiptoed around the storehouse to a gate. He closed it behind them with long, exaggerated movements, as if by his very absurdity, the people inside the house couldn’t hear the gate creaking. He smiled at Kuro. “I shared my name.”

Kuro raised a brow. He’d lied about his name. “So?”

Ren gestured at Kuro.

“Am I supposed to understand waving?”

He sighed. “What’s your name?”

Kuro looked him up and down, once more, just in case Ren’s kimono finally decided to tell him something. “Kuro.”

“As in, ‘here, Kuro, Kuro’?” Ren patted his lap.

“I’m not a dog!” Kuro snapped back.

“Eh?” Ren leaned to the side and dropped his eyes.

Kuro followed his gaze, but nothing but a few orange leaves were of any interest. Then he realised that Ren stared at where Kuro’s tail would have peeked out from behind his leg, if he had a tail in this form. “I’m a fox. Obviously.”

“Oh yes.” He nodded. “So Kuro as in black. Oddly fitting.”

“It’s obviously not my real name. What kind of idiot goes about giving strangers their real name? Who knows what they’d do with it!”

“Someone who’s not completely antisocial?”

Kuro glared at him. As if Ren had given his real name either. Ten-something, as he’d started to answer before he thought better of it.

“Someone who’s not running from samurai,” Ren corrected. “Why were you running?”

“Because they were chasing me.” Perhaps not a complete idiot was too strong to describe Ren.

“But why?”

“Because they wanted to bleed me to death with a thousand cuts.”

“But—”

“Anyone would know that.” Kuro peered at him. The samurai didn’t care to do such an obvious thing as actually tell commoners the laws, but everyone knew the punishments. Death by a thousand cuts. If the samurai bothered with a trial, then hanging, being burned alive, crucifixion. Mostly, the samurai preferred to ship human offenders out of the city for only the samurai knew what purpose.

Ren rolled his eyes. “But why were they chasing you to begin with? What did you do?”

“Besides being born a fox? Why would you assume I did anything?”

“If they knew you were a fox, they never would have fallen for your act.”

“I’m an excellent actor,” he declared. “I’d be a kabuki star if I didn’t have better things to do.”

“Like steal mochi?” He held up the cake Kuro had given him.

“If you’re going to moan, I’ll take it back.” Kuro reached out to grab it.

Ren snatched it to his chest. “They chased you a long time just for that.”

So, he’d watched Kuro for a much longer time than Kuro had initially thought. “It’s mine to begin with.”

He raised his brow, not buying Kuro’s line at all.

“In the future,” Kuro said. “I thought I’d do them the favour by allowing them to worship me sooner.”

The side of Ren’s mouth quirked up.

Kuro puffed up his chest. “I’m no mere fox. You have had the great fortune of meeting the soon-to-be god of the Eastern Shrine.”

Ren’s mouth dropped in the proper amount of shock. “You stole this from the Eastern Shrine?”

“I took what is my right,” he said. “I only happen to be doing it a little early.”

He pursed his lips, then slid the mochi into his collar to keep. Kuro winced at the mess that would make against such fine cloth. Whoever Ren was, he didn’t need to worry about washing his own linens.

“That’s why you should hand over all your money,” Kuro declared. “You’ve had the fortune to meet a budding god-to-be. This is your chance to ensure good favour from a god for the rest of your human life. What do you want? A beautiful wife?”

“Eh…”

“Then how about a lucrative trade venture?”

His eyes brightened.

Kuro held out his hand. “You’d be a fool not to take advantage.”

Ren’s face cracked, and for one terrible moment, Kuro thought he’d break out into laughter. But he spread his hands wide. “Actually, it’s double bad luck. I’ve met a future god and I don’t even have a single sen at hand.”

Kuro fell to the side, catching himself before he crashed into the ground again. His ribs wailed at the sudden movement.

Not a sen at hand? But he wore proper sandals and dyed cloth. He had a surname.

Kuro grabbed Ren’s hands and held them up in front of him. His kimono sleeves billowed. Ren’s hands felt so soft underneath the callouses of Kuro’s own fingers.

Ren smiled. “I’m glad you still want to be my friend—”

Kuro stared up through Ren’s sleeves, but found nothing. No coin purses, or even a square of paper, hidden up his sleeves. Kuro forced down Ren’s hands and moved to pat down his chest.

Ren raised his forearm and blocked Kuro’s hands. “What are you doing?”

“You shouldn’t lie to demons,” he said. “They gobble up silly humans who dare to lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Sure, Mr Fake Name.”

Ren scowled. “And you’re not a demon.”

Kuro clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“Unless you’re not really a soon-to-be god, but a demon lying to me in turn.”

“Feh.” The wrapped object on Ren’s back caught Kuro’s eye. “Then give me that instead.”

Ren’s brow furrowed. He tilted his head to look back, then jerked. “I can’t.”

“You didn’t even remember you were carrying it,” Kuro said.

Ren pursed his lips. “I just didn’t expect you to be so bold.”

“To ask for the clothes off your back?”

He jerked away, his cheeks reddening. He opened his mouth, but kept it there, speaking in the high croaks of crickets.

“So it is clothes.” Kuro moved around him, trying to get a better look, but Ren moved with him, remaining face to face. But what kind of clothing was long and cylindrical?

“I didn’t say that.”

Humans. So reliant on words that they pretended as if that was the only way to talk. “Too bad, Mister Not a Sen to His Name. I was going to show you a good time.”

“Really?”

Kuro waved a dismissive hand. “But since you don’t have a sen, I couldn’t possibly take you to enjoy the rich pleasures of this ancient city.”

He’d wasted enough time on the human already. He was obviously broken in the head, and not long for this world. That was why he hadn’t alerted the retainers. There was nothing special about him. Nothing kind.

Kuro creeped along the street.

“Wait!” Ren’s voice echoed echoed against the plaster walls.

Kuro tightened his shoulders, pausing, alert to any movement from the houses.

“I can’t leave,” Ren said.

Kuro narrowed his eyes. So he was a servant in this household. Just perfect.

“I’m in the middle of a dangerous mission.”

Kuro barked. “Mission?”

Ren nodded, his lips pressed in a determined line.

“Dangerous?” Kuro looked him up and down, but the human’s strangeness had not rearranged itself into answers. A good blow to the head when he was a kit was as likely as any.

“Extremely.”

“What, did the master of your house order you to fetch some mackerel?” Kuro laughed.

Ren narrowed his eyes. “I’m hunting demons.”