The forest path Jubei led them on was not a path at all. It was a ghost trail, a series of faint animal tracks, gaps between rocks, and mossy deadfalls that only a man who knew the land like his own skin could follow. Hayato carried Koji, who had fallen into an exhausted sleep against his shoulder. The boy's weight was a constant reminder of the life now tangled with his own.
"You move well for a castle-trained swordsman," Jubei remarked without looking back, his voice a low murmur. "Most of your type crash through the woods like angry boar."
"A ronin does not have the luxury of roads," Hayato replied, his eyes scanning the shadows. The encounter with the fast Gaki—Kuroi—had sharpened every sense. Every rustle of leaves was a potential threat.
"A ronin also doesn't usually travel with a doctor, a psychic child, and a baby," Jubei said, a smirk in his voice. "You're collecting strays. Dangerous habit."
"They are not strays. They are people."
"Same thing, these days." Jubei paused, holding up a hand. He pointed to a patch of soft earth near a streamlet. A footprint, deep and human, but with a strange, dragging scrape at the heel. "One of hers. Scouting. Recently."
Hayato's grip tightened on Koji. "How close is the ford?"
"Close. And if we can see her tracks, she knows this route. Your friends might be walking into a reunion party."
They moved faster after that, the urgency a cold stone in Hayato's gut. The trees began to thin, replaced by tall river reeds and the louder sound of flowing water. Jubei crouched low, signaling for Hayato to do the same. They crept to the edge of the reeds and looked out.
The ford was a wide, shallow stretch of the river where the water rushed over flat, grey stones. It was maybe thirty paces across. On the far bank, Hayato could see Kei, Sakura, Kenta, and the two old peasants. They looked bedraggled and terrified, huddled together, staring at the water. Kenta held the tanegashima pistol, but his hand shook.
On the near bank, just upstream of the ford, stood the problem.
Not Kuroi. But three Gaki. They weren't shambling. They stood almost at attention, blocking the crossing point. One wore the tattered remains of a monk's robe. Another was a big man, a blacksmith or farmer, with massive arms. The third was a woman, her kimono stained with old blood. They didn't groan. They just waited.
"Sentries," Jubei breathed. "She's not just herding them. She's posting guards."
Across the river, Kei saw them. Her face, pale with fear, lit with a desperate hope. "Hayato!" she called, her voice carrying over the water.
The three Gaki turned their heads in unison toward the sound. Their milky eyes passed over Kei and fixed on Hayato and Jubei in the reeds.
"So much for surprise," Jubei sighed. He unslung his odd nagamaki, the curved blade catching the dull light. "You take the big one and the monk. I'll handle the lady. Try not to let the baby get eaten."
"Put him down. Stay hidden," Hayato said to Koji, setting the drowsy boy in a thick patch of ferns. Koji nodded silently, his eyes huge.
Hayato drew his wakizashi. The katana was still with Kei across the river. It would have to do.
He and Jubei stepped out of the reeds together. The three Gaki reacted immediately, spreading out. They didn't charge with mindless hunger. They advanced with a chilling coordination. The big one and the monk came for Hayato. The woman moved toward Jubei with a sinuous, unnatural grace.
The big Gaki swung a meaty fist. Hayato ducked under it, feeling the wind of the blow. He slashed with the wakizashi, opening a deep cut across the thing's thigh. It didn't flinch. It backhanded him, the impact like being hit by a log. Hayato staggered, his vision swimming.
The monk-Gaki lunged, jaws snapping. Hayato brought his elbow up, catching it under the chin, and drove his blade into its chest. It gurgled, black fluid bubbling from its mouth, but its hands clawed at his face.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jubei's fight. The ninja was a whirlwind. He used the long haft of his weapon to keep the woman at a distance, the hook end snagging her ankle and pulling her off balance, the blade end slicing cleanly when she stumbled. He wasn't just fighting; he was dissecting.
Hayato wrenched his blade free from the monk and kicked the big Gaki in the knee. He heard a satisfying crack. The giant stumbled. Hayato didn't hesitate. He leaped, using the monk's falling body as a step, and brought the wakizashi down with all his strength onto the crown of the big Gaki's skull. The blade bit deep. The giant froze, then crumpled.
He turned, panting, to see Jubei deliver a final, precise stab to the woman-Gaki's spine. She collapsed.
Silence, except for the rush of the river.
"Not bad," Jubei said, wiping his blade on the reeds. "A little clumsy, but effective."
Across the ford, Kenta was waving them over. "Hurry! Before more come!"
Hayato retrieved Koji. He and Jubei waded into the cold water. The current tugged at their legs, but the stone bottom was firm. With every step, Hayato expected an arrow from the trees or Kuroi's silent attack. But nothing came.
He reached the other bank. Kei rushed forward, her composure gone. She didn't embrace him, but her hands fluttered, checking him for injury. "You're alive. The boy is safe." Her eyes landed on the fresh bruises on his face and the claw marks on his arms. "You're hurt."
"I'll live," he said.
Sakura was staring at Jubei with a mixture of fear and fascination. "You… your thoughts are very quiet. And sharp. Like a knife made of shadows."
Jubei raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down. "And you, little fox, are very loud. In a quiet way. It's unsettling."
"You saved Hayato and Koji," Kei said, turning to Jubei and offering a stiff, formal bow. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Jubei said, leaning on his weapon. "We have a deal. A favor, remember?"
Kenta stepped forward, suspicious. "What favor? Who is this man?"
"This is Jubei," Hayato said. "He knows the land. He knows the enemy. We need him if we want to reach Edo alive."
"He looks like a bandit," Kenta muttered.
"I'm a realist," Jubei corrected with a smile. "And right now, I'm the only thing between you and a very smart, very dead kunoichi who wants to add you to her collection." He nodded toward the forest. "We can't stay here. This ford is marked. She'll come."
The old woman, Fumi, spoke up, her voice trembling. "Where can we go? There is no safe place."
"There's a place," Jubei said. "A charcoal-burner's village in the high valleys. Remote. Defensible. They might still be holding out. Might have food. It's a hard climb, but it's off the main routes."
Hayato looked at his group. Kei was exhausted but resolute. Sakura was listening to the silent forest, her face tense. Kenta was scared but trying to be strong. The old couple were at the end of their strength. Koji was just a child.
"We need shelter. A place to rest and plan," Hayato said. "We go to the village."
The climb was brutal. Jubei led them away from the river, up steep, wooded slopes where the air grew thinner and colder. They moved in single file, helping the older ones over rocks and through streams. Sakura walked just behind Hayato, her small voice a constant, quiet report.
"The hungry thoughts are below us now… moving along the river… The fast one is there too. She's… angry. The guards we killed were hers. She's pulling others to her."
"How many?" Hayato asked.
"Many. A big crowd of noise. She's making a… a net. To catch something."
"Us," Kenta said from behind, his voice grim.
"Or everything that moves," Jubei called back. "She's thinking like a hunter. Culling the herd, corralling the food supply. She's not just hungry. She's strategic."
The idea of a strategic, pack-hunting Gaki was more terrifying than a hundred mindless ones. It meant they were no longer dealing with a force of nature, but with a cruel, intelligent enemy.
As dusk painted the high peaks in purple, they crested a ridge and looked down into a narrow, hidden valley. A dozen small huts clustered around a stream, with terraced fields on the slopes. Smoke rose from a few chimneys. The sight of normal smoke, of a lived-in place, was almost shocking.
But something was wrong.
"Too quiet," Jubei murmured.
Sakura squeezed her eyes shut. "There are thoughts. People thoughts. But they're… muffled. Trapped. And there's a… a cold thought. In the middle. It's not hungry like the others. It's… empty. And watching."
Hayato's hand went to his sword hilt. "A Silent One?"
"Maybe. But different. Colder."
They descended into the valley with extreme caution. The first hut they passed was empty, its door hanging open. A pot of cold stew sat on a hearth. The next hut was the same.
In the central clearing, they found the people.
The entire village—perhaps thirty men, women, and children—were gathered in a tight circle. They were on their knees. They were alive, but their faces were blank with terror. They didn't speak. They didn't move. They just knelt, staring at the center of the circle.
In the center stood a figure.
It was a man, or had been. He wore the simple clothes of a woodcutter. He stood perfectly still, his arms at his sides. His skin was grey, his eyes solid black pools. He was not rotting. He showed no sign of injury. He simply stood, and the entire village knelt before him in petrified silence.
"What is he doing?" Kei whispered, horrified.
"Controlling them," Sakura whimpered, pressing her hands to her temples. "His thought is pushing on theirs. A heavy, cold weight. Telling them to be still. To wait."
"For what?" Kenta asked, raising the pistol.
The black-eyed man turned his head. Slowly. Smoothly. Not the jerk of a Gaki. His gaze passed over them and landed on Hayato.
A voice spoke. It did not come from the man's mouth. It seemed to form directly in their minds, dry and rustling like dead leaves.
You are the silence. You are the error.
Hayato felt a pressure behind his eyes, a foreign will trying to push into his mind. He gritted his teeth, pushing back with everything he had. The pressure retreated, surprised.
Interesting. the voice rustled. You resist. You are not food. You are… something else. The master will want to see you.
"What master?" Jubei called out, his nagamaki ready.
The black-eyed man's lips did not move, but the mental voice grew sharper. The one who sees the pattern. The one who harvests the noise. You will come. Or these will die.
As they watched, one of the kneeling villagers, a young man, began to shake. Black veins suddenly crawled up his neck from under his collar. His eyes filmed over white. He let out a guttural groan and lunged at the woman next to him, biting deeply into her shoulder before the others could pull him away.
The black-eyed man had done nothing. He had just… willed it.
A demonstration, the voice said. I can turn the fear in their hearts into the Rot in their blood. I can make this valley a nest. Or you can come with me. The silence for the noise. A fair trade.
Hayato looked at the terrified villagers. He looked at his own small, exhausted group. He saw the monstrous calculation in this new enemy's offer. This was not hunger. This was a cold, psychic tyranny.
The rules had just changed again. And the price of their journey had gone up.