Chapter 7: The Secret Name of Kurofuku
The shadows around them were thick with the mist, a veil of uncertainty that seemed to hold its breath as the heroes waited. The crackle of the fire in the distance was the only sound breaking the silence, its warmth offering no comfort in the tense atmosphere. Sachiko remained hidden behind the jagged rocks, her mind racing, her instincts sharp. She could hear the low sounds of the Oni still celebrating, still unaware of their presence.
Her gaze lingered on Tengukensei, the tengu master who had led them into this perilous journey. His posture was one of quiet strength, his eyes scanning the darkened horizon with precision. Yet, despite the calm that emanated from him, Sachiko couldn't shake the growing tension in her chest, a nagging feeling that she couldn't ignore.
Her voice broke the stillness, soft and hesitant. "Sensei," she whispered, barely audible over the wind, "I notice you never address the Tanuki by his name. Why is this so?"
Tengukensei's eyes shifted slightly to meet hers, a flicker of something in his expression—something ancient, something wise. He didn't answer immediately, his gaze drawn for a moment to the shadows where the Shadow Tanuki had disappeared, still out there, working in the dark.
Then, with a soft sigh, Tengukensei spoke, his voice low, as though the very words held a weight far heavier than they appeared. "Ah..." he began, his voice filled with both resignation and understanding. "To know a Shadow Tanuki's name is to command him."
Sachiko blinked, trying to process the weight of what he had said. "To command him?" she repeated softly, her brow furrowed. "But why?"
Tengukensei's gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the flicker of the firelight. "This is how it has always been," he continued. "If a Tanuki reveals his name to you, and you speak it aloud, you gain power over him. It’s a binding contract—a dangerous bond. The Tanuki must serve you, his will bound to yours, even if he doesn't want to. The ancient power of names is not to be taken lightly."
Sachiko swallowed, the weight of his words sinking into her bones. She could feel the tension that still lingered in the air, the weight of the Tanuki's silence, his hidden name. It was no small thing, to hold such a power over a creature so mysterious and ancient.
"But... you never asked him for his name?" she asked, her voice quieter now, more intrigued than before.
Tengukensei's expression shifted, becoming distant, thoughtful. "No," he said softly. "I have known the Shadow Tanuki for a long time—since I first came to Mt. Kirama. He was bound to a rich merchant then, one who was cruel and uncaring. The merchant used the Tanuki for his ability to bring good fortune and stealth, a tool for his own gain, without ever considering the cost of such power. It was a horrible thing to witness."
Sachiko’s heart skipped a beat as she thought of her own past, of the years she had spent as a slave to those who had used her for their own twisted purposes. She could feel the resonance of his story deep inside her—a feeling of empathy for a soul enslaved, twisted and used by those who saw them as nothing more than tools.
Tengukensei continued, his voice growing soft with the weight of memory. "When I learned of the Tanuki's plight, I freed him. The merchant... he was evil, and he was not missed. But I don’t know how he learned the Tanuki’s name. Trickery was likely involved. Whatever the means, once the name is known, there is no escaping it."
The silence that followed was heavy, full of the unspoken truths that lingered between them. Sachiko’s thoughts were muddled, but the connection she felt to the Tanuki deepened. She had only known him for a short time, but in his silent companionship, she felt something rare—a bond that transcended words.
Tengukensei’s eyes grew distant, and his mind seemed to drift into the past. He continued, almost as if to himself, "When the Tanuki offered me his name, I chose not to speak it." He looked back at Sachiko then, his eyes filled with a quiet sadness. "I value friendship over servitude, and I would never bind him to me that way. I want him to be free."
Sachiko was stunned into silence. Her heart swelled with emotion as she considered his words. It was an act of incredible kindness, one that spoke to the core of who Tengukensei was. He had chosen freedom for the Tanuki, even at the cost of power. A mastery of selflessness that touched her deeply.
“I understand,” she whispered, her voice breaking in the quiet night.
Tengukensei’s expression softened, and for a moment, he seemed almost vulnerable. He nodded, as though he had said all that needed to be said.
In the depths of his mind, a name repeated over and over—a name he had never spoken aloud, never shared with another soul. Kurofuku. His old friend, his silent companion in the dark. A name bound to the shadows, a name that was both a gift and a curse. But the choice had been made long ago.
And that choice, to honor the freedom of Kurofuku, was one Tengukensei would never regret.
As the winds howled through the night, the Tanuki’s shadow would return to them soon, his secrets and insights ready to guide them toward their next steps on this treacherous island.
And yet, the weight of that name—Kurofuku—would always remain between them, whispered only in the depths of memory, where even the shadows could not follow.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
Chapter 8: Whispers Among the Shadows
The night held its breath as Kurofuku slipped soundlessly from one shadow to the next, his form a shifting phantom within the gloom. He did not move as others did; he became the dark, weaving through the eerie stillness with the precision of something not entirely bound to this world.
The Oni campfire burned hot and cruel, its twisted flames licking hungrily at the night. Around it, the raiders reveled in their gruesome spoils, their monstrous laughter rolling across the foothills like distant thunder. They drank deeply from flasks of burning sake, their snarled faces glistening with grease and blood, their heavy clubs resting lazily against their shoulders.
And yet, amidst their crude indulgence, fear lurked.
The Tanuki could hear it in their words, the way their voices dipped into uneasy murmurs when the name of Shuten-dōji was spoken. Even these monstrous brutes—predators who had torn through Sakana Cove a week prior, feasting upon its people—dreaded their king.
Kurofuku did not simply listen. He became one with the shadows they cast, slipping through the darkness between them. When an Oni lurched to his feet, casting a wide and swaying silhouette, the Tanuki merged with it seamlessly, an unseen wraith traveling within their own darkness. He was there, among them, yet entirely unseen, a master of the void that danced at their feet.
The leader of the warband, Gozumaru, stood nearest to the fire. He was taller than the rest, his crimson skin stretched tight over thick, roped muscle. His two jagged horns gleamed in the firelight as he swayed drunkenly, tossing back a final mouthful of sake before wiping his mouth with the back of his clawed hand.
“We feasted well tonight,” he declared, throwing a gnawed human bone into the flames, where it cracked and split from the heat. “The flesh of those pitiful fishermen was soft and sweet. The old ones were bitter, but the young? Hah! The young were tender.”
The other Oni howled in agreement, banging their clubs against the ground in drunken delight.
Kurofuku remained silent, waiting, listening.
Another voice, one far colder than Gozumaru’s, cut through the revelry like the edge of a blade.
“Shuten-dōji will be pleased.”
The camp fell into an abrupt hush. Even the drunkest among them straightened at the sound of it. The speaker, Mokugyo, was one of Shuten-dōji’s personal enforcers, a pale-skinned Oni draped in ceremonial armor. His blackened eyes scanned the gathered warriors with quiet scrutiny.
“But,” he continued, his voice now carrying the weight of something far more dangerous than revelry, “he will not tolerate failure.”
The crackle of the fire filled the silence that followed.
Mokugyo stepped forward, his armored feet crushing the remnants of their feast beneath him. His gaze settled on Gozumaru, and though the Oni captain stood half a head taller, he did not dare meet his eyes.
“Where are the three?” Mokugyo asked, his voice void of emotion.
Gozumaru stiffened. “They were spotted near the foothills, but—”
A sharp crack split the air.
Mokugyo had moved impossibly fast, striking Gozumaru across the face with the back of his gauntleted hand. The larger Oni staggered, blood dribbling from his split lip.
“Do not give me excuses, Gozumaru. Find them. If you do not…” He let the threat linger, allowing the firelight to dance in his pitiless gaze.
Kurofuku felt it, the fear that crept into them all. Even Gozumaru, brutish and bloodstained, swallowed hard, eyes darting toward the distant mountains as if weighing his chances of escape.
There were none.
“Shuten-dōji rewards success,” Mokugyo continued, “but he savors punishment. If they are not found by dawn, you will be his next amusement.”
The other Oni shifted uncomfortably. They had all heard the stories—servants flayed alive, their blood used for Shuten-dōji’s sake; warriors who failed him boiled in their own armor. Some were turned into twisted, mindless guardians, forced to defend his fortress as soulless husks, eternally suffering.
No one wished to share their fate.
Gozumaru dropped to one knee, pressing his forehead to the dirt.
“They will be found.”
Mokugyo smirked. “See that they are.”
Kurofuku had heard enough.
With the ease of a specter, he drifted away, slipping through their shadows once more, leaving the Oni to their growing unease. He had what he came for—knowledge of their fear, their weaknesses.
And fear… was something they could use.
By the time he rejoined Tengukensei and Sachiko, the Oni were already sending out search parties.
Kurofuku, unseen and untouched by the night, simply smiled in the dark.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
