Crow and Fox

      Mount Tengu was overgrown with superstitions, which resembled weeds, swarming around bald stone patches. Its top was gnawed by the broken jaws of delayed snow avalanches, and the dense forest flowed from the foot in streams of prickly pine needles.       Dark and gloomy, unfriendly and not at all expecting guests, this place was slowly digesting everything. Trees, which fell during an old storm, were slowly being overgrown with moss in the same way. They never remembered.       But there was something to remember.       It smelled like eternity in here. It was hard not to feel this sharp, juicy smell, bursting into the throat with hundreds of discordant notes. And it was even harder to describe it. It was enveloping, knocking at the lungs with small hammers of a music box, changing the rhythm of heavy inhalations and slow exhalations, turning the world upside down and putting the sky under someone's feet. The grass was blue from the late twilight. Spots of shadows reached the moon, only to fall from it and, like an ancient ruler, were doomed to utter terrible prophecies for the rest of their lives.       What did he feel hundreds of years ago, hunched by the merciless time, climbing the same slope, gathering the snowstorm into deep wrinkles around his eyes? The very first shogun of Edoropolis and the founder of the Kitsunezuka clan. The Nine-Tailed...could he sense it here as sharply, sweetly and painfully as only those, who have lost everything but hope, can?       The mountain was waiting for the sage to approach it, and did not move. It took root, sprouted, and silent birds hatched from the buds of their cold nests.       Several kilometres of dry and withered silence, brushwood crunched underfoot. There was not a drop of red colour here, except diluted shades of the expensive cloak, but something elusively ferrous could still be felt in the air, crawling out of sharp notches on the tree bark. If one looked closely, it was possible to see fresh marks of steel blades and predatory claws.       Pictures of calligraphic accuracy were quietly erased by pine tar. That smell came late and pulled the nostril-wings of a sensitive nose, although, it would seem, there was nothing unusual for a overgrown forest in it. But the steps stopped, having flattened brittle grass with sandals. The traveller looked around, and his eyes got tense, tightly capturing shallow wounds on a separate tree without any mistake. There was nothing else to do, but to come closer quietly, soak the glance with them, as if with ink, and make notes on the back of the eyelids.       Clearly, some throwing stars - shurikens - have recently plunged into a makeshift target one after another. In their traces one could discern a symmetrical contour of the skull with open wings and crow's talons.       The Karakara clan.       The first fruits of the long search became ripe, burst, and it was possible to lick their tart grenade juice from dry lips. The greedy smile was too fast for this early autumn, where even molehills were tired of turning into mountains, with all the moles in them falling asleep.       And there were a lot of chickens to count outside the hen-house.       Could a fox do it?       The torn air suddenly burned his cheek, but failed to leave the crimson greeting in one line. The dart, probably with a poison on it, disturbed the pattern on the tree, but no one was standing in front of it anymore in a deceptively relaxed pose, listening to the whispers of the wings. The first signs of the crows.       To tell the truth, I have already began to doubt your very existence. And you?       "You do not have the right to be here!" - The sharp croaking voice scaled off, penetrating through the dense fabric of the mask, hardened because of it and, probably, turned out to be practically unrecognisable. Although, it was not familiar in the first place.       And you do not know, that I exist, at all...       A cold glance, resembling a sliver of a midday winter sky, was thrown from under the half-closed eyelashes, which were red and sharp, uneven, like jaws of a predator. His skin looked too pale for a fox, as if it had faded, became slightly yellowish and similar to the pages of ancient manuscripts.       He was like an open book in an unfamiliar language, and the patrolling guard was not able to read it.       "Are you sure?" - the traveller inclined his head to one side as in waiting and folded his arms over his chest, exactly under the heraldic emblems, embroidered near the fasteners of the pink cloak, which was tied with a belt of golden threads. The line of his lips looked so calm, as if he had not counted several more shadows in the crowns of the trees. Their dishevelled wings swallowed leafage and spat fireflies.       The question was hardly trying to find the answer, sparkled instead and stuck to his eyes like a hoarfrost. And then the tension in the air broke as if it was a garrote, just as suddenly cut off by a broken cardiogram of fangs. The lips has just released a short breath, and the radiance in the pulling blackness above the mountains was filled with a rich red colour.       The patrol guard's pupils twitched up, his fingers have almost cramped, making a shuriken throw in vain, although it was accurately aimed between the eyes. The steel looked green from the reflections of the conifers. It was possible to examine the slight curve of each of the four blades, and then the fox sharply raised his eyelids and caught the falling throwing star with a clap of his palms.       Make a wish.       "I have more than the right to be here"       These expectations have become overripe. Another fast and quiet warrior of the crow clan jumped from the tree behind him. His short blade imagined itself to be a guillotine, but froze much further from the fox's throat, than the crow intended, because his wrist was caught in the grip of long sharp-clawed fingers. Being bloodless itself, this hand did not leave even scratches, when with an elusive movement, using the inertia of the jump, the fox threw the attacker over his shoulder. Having broken the fall, the wings splashed on the grass, reflecting the dried green in their black gloss. Such shifts of colours could be seen on a fly's abdomen.       At that point, the sword, which had not even left the expensive scabbard with elegant tassels, painted orange and while like a fox's tail, could have stabbed the patrol guard, like a pin pieces an insect, if only... another enemy had not attacked from the left?       No, if only the fox had wanted that.       "I have the right to rule here"       The swing of the next blade passed by, like a rain, sharp and thin, ringing with three lute strings in the air. The fox could easily play an old song about a willow and a wind.       The speed of his movements seemed impossible, as if the time itself was crushed, letting a short figure slide between fractions of a second and somehow appear behind the enemy’s shoulder. The fox easily pushed the guard's arm with the base of his palm, and the sword instead of a heart found a rock. Still, it was just as cold and hard. Turquoise eyes did not have the last laugh, they ere not laughing at all, just thinking about whether those who were creeping now would learn to fly again.       The fox knew, it was not all that Karakara clan could offer him.       "Don't you think, that master Gennarisai should have warned the students to let him pass?" - some high-flyer bird grunted gloomily from above. He did not wear a mask, boasting his sharp, roughly fashioned facial features and heavy jaw, which could chew these words like pieces of metal and eat their black silver for breakfast.       "No. He will not hurt them. As he had said, he came here to rule, not to kill," - was the calm response of the hard lips, corrugated by old scars. The crooked grin seemed sharper from the side of the empty eye socket, covered with a bright red plate. Even the intact eye had been seeing the world in the same colour for a long time.       "But what if they hurt him?" - The third crow's voice rustled like the north wind against pebbles. His words along with long talons were tousling his own feathers, not so much black as burned by the electrified crimson colour between them.       The one-eyed ninja crow flung his head up like only a bird can, as if he swallowed a croaking laughter, that had gone up his throat.       "Ha! If they can cause him any harm, then he is an impostor, and I will cut his throat personally"       "I do not think it will be necessary" - the fourth one noted drily, hardly moving his lips. His eyes were also motionless, rarely blinking, as if reddish veins around the pupils were covered by rust. - "Look closely at the way he moves. This is not just a physical training or combat skills, he manipulates time streams to dodge all the attacks. Without a doubt, this is the one, whom our clan has been waiting for hundreds of years. The new nine-tailed fox..."       "... Konnokami from Kitsunezuka clan" - finally, the fox announced his name, and one of the patrol guards, pinned against the tree trunk, for the first time felt the cold sharpness of his own sword in someone else's hand. The handle has almost took root there, warmed by unexpectedly soft fingers, without any callosities from it. But Konnokami's gaze cracked, when, without changing the pose, he turned over his shoulder, unmistakably finding the four ninjas in the crowns of the trees. - "Could you get down already? Or should we go on with this show?"       He was exhaling not insolence, but cold, and seemed to be the only one breathing evenly on this clearing. The leaves were trembling like butterflies, folding and spreading the wings.       The four crows, without saying a word, appeared in front of Konnokami with a one quick surge, so abruptly and so close, that his heavy red hair, pulled into a high ponytail, stirred up from a gust of the wind.       In response his pupils narrowed silently. Some chilly, putrid and at the same time sweetish smell of a fermented danger crawled under the eyelids, but Konnokami did not step back and thus deserved a bent medal of an approving smile from the one-eyed ninja-crow.       "Zanka of the Shadows," - he introduced himself shortly, bowing his head abruptly in respect.       "Bonka of the Flames," - like a rolling echo, which changed only a couple of letters, the tallest and the most broad-shouldered of the four crows said, standing like a mountain. The vents of the volcanoes in his eyes looked down at Konnokami even during the deferential bow.       "Wokka of the Water," - his rusty pupils focused, did not get warmer, evaluating, and drawing conclusions that the Nine-tailed fox has not shown even the small share of his abilities so far. Wokka wanted to see more, but resisted that urge, when his head also bowed respectfully.       "Rekka of the Wind," - The wings with a scarlet tint shed small crumbly sparks, and his ceremonial bow was a little deeper than bows of the others. - "We are the Dark Four, elite warriors of Karakara clan. It is a great honour to meet you"       "The feeling is mutual," - Konnokami bowed politely in response.       His movements were regal, soft and flowing, like a wild honey, making the forest air respectfully touch his open forehead and gold embroidery of heraldic foxes on his expensive cloak.       "So, he is the Kitsunezuka," - having huddled together at a distance, that seemed safe to them, the patrol guards now looked more like sparrows than crows. They were fluffing up their anxious feathers, and their whispers sounded like twittering. - "And no one had told us, that he was going to come here today?"       "But he is so... plain. Like an ordinary fox, there is nothing special about him," - the one, who had attacked Konnokami first, made a grimace, and the mask readily ate spicy disappointment in wrinkled freckles on his nose. - "Bonka is a head taller than he is."       "Yeah. And what is that with the pink cloak?" - the patrol guard, who had been easily thrown over the shoulder during the battle, was carefully cleaning his grey training uniform from the inappropriate stitches of the pine needles, yet he found some time to meticulously examine Konnokami's outfit. - "Do all foxes dress so tastelessly or is it the Nine-tailed thing?"       "Why does everyone assume, that he is the Nine-tailed fox in the first place? I see only one tail," - the offended reflection in the third patrol guard's broken sword, threw a glance at Konnokami. The fox's tail moved sharply under the cloak with its piercingly white, like red-hot iron, tip, as a warning.       "Had you slept through master Gennarisai's lessons?" - Having instinctively lowered his voice even more, to the whisper, the patrol guard threw up his wings. He was the one, who criticised the colour of Konnokami's clothes and was envious of the silent golden embroidery on the screaming pink fabric. - "Obviously, in terms of anatomy, the Nine-tailed has one tail, like all foxes. The other eight tails appear when they are needed, in battle for example, and are made of magical energy. If all tails materialise, it will mean, that he uses his powers to the maximum. In that form, he can, probably, demolish everything within the radius of this forest"       "Probably, I can. So do not test my patience" - Konnokami's fox ear flicked. It has already tired of listening to this, filtering comments through the bristling fur, which had the same colour as his hair. Younger crows shuddered, having fell silent instantly.       Never play with fire.       Even the four elite warriors, not only the students, could swear, that the thin lips had not moved, but they clearly felt these words. Those were in the burning drawings of autumn, spreading across the pale face with high cheekbones. In lowered eyelashes, which have become a firm cage for a blue gleam. In bared fangs, eagerly tasting air with the illusions of smells. In ancient magic, concentrated on the tip of every hair. He could take a life or save it, sometimes with the same expression on a stone-cold face.       Otherwise the fire will play with you one day.       "Do you have nothing better to do?" - Having blinked away the delusion, Zanka's only eye flashed, like a poisoned arrow-head, aiming at negligent students, and they pressed their wings to the shoulders, feeling guilty. - "Fly to the waterfall and tell Karamaru, that he must come to Gennarisai immediately. Then you can inform your teacher, that I personally order him to give you additional lessons. Those uncoordinated attacks were embarrassing to look at"       The patrol guards exchanged glances, as if just looking for an excuse to break an eye contact with Zanka apart and leave the crimson apologies to drop on the grass.       "But he is the Nine-tailed! What could we do?!"       "You could have at least not disgrase the Karakara warriors in his eyes!" - Zanka kept his eye on them still, that glare scratched vulnerable temples, rubbing the truth deep into the skull, and clamped the free flow of any possible objections like a tourniquet.       The patrol guards were almost glad to hear abrupt words "Go and get Karamaru!" and disappeared obediently, having become silent shadows in the leaves once again. No one looked at them, and they ceased to exist just for a couple of heartbeats. Zanka's heart was beating slowly, steadily, as the shadows crawl in the evening.       His deep breath streamed down along the grooves of scars on his chin, got entangled in the traces of a rough darn and did not miss a single dead end.       "Forgive them, lord Konnokami. They are too... yellow-beaked. They had started their training not so long ago".       Konnokami nodded. A folded fan appeared in his long aristocratic fingers as if it was pulled out of thin air, and its straight line was as strict as the thin lips.       "I have guessed".       It was possible, that this fan was hiding a lot with the serenity of sleeping vipers in every segment. Having been unfold with the same elusive gesture, the rice paper made a brilliant display of the familiar golden image of a heraldic fox on the pink background.       The broad gestures of Zanka's right wing and hand were the same, and he pointed forward, leading the group. Konnokami followed him like a vivid colourful shadow, his steps were so soft and noiseless, one could want to turn around and check, if he was still there. But the other three crows brought up the rear to make sure of that.       "Our clan is strong and will serve you well, I assure you," - Zanka continued. His laid-back wings were maneuvering in the woods easily without losing a single feather. One could notice, that long claws strengthened by iron distinctly stood out on the joints of Zanka's spoke bones, unlike on the other crows' wings. - "Of course, there is one more formality left, master Gennarisai needs to acknowledge, that you are a Nine-tailed fox, himself."       "In other words, there will be more trials," - Konnokami preferred to call things as he saw them without any luscious sugar frosting, which could turn out to be just someone's bone dust. The thin line between the honorary escort and the convoy was dancing on the tip of the needle.       "This is not a problem for you, lord Konnokami, is it?" - he heard from behind, and the spot near the shoulder-blade began to itch from the rusty gaze, drilling Konnokami's back. It was like Wokka considered the demonstration of someone else's power to be able to heal the rash of boredom on his eyes by itself.       "Since you know about mount Tengu and Karakara clan, you probably know the other details of our obligations to the foxes as well," - Bonka's rough voice could sound politely even while crushing white marble, and the facts were cut into stone deeply. - "When a Nine-tailed is born in one of your clans, we serve only them and no one else. Master Gennarisai needs to be absolutely sure, that in this generation the Nine-tailed fox is you"       "But after that all the forces of Karakara clan will be at your disposal, and you will also have your own personal bodyguard," - Rekka added a spoon of honey into the barrel of tar. A perfectly round viscous piece of the sun did not hurry to plunge into the darkness with the rest of the forest. It was yellow like the eyes of...       "Karamaru, who you have sent for?" - Konnokami inquired. Having turned over his shoulder on the go, he made sure, that none of those three had such a warm colour in their eyes. - "Is he the best of your ninjas?"       Actually, that it was not of any importance for the all-powerful Nine-tailed fox. The poisonous cinnabar around Zanka's pupil realised that and rolled under the eyelid evasively. Konnokami could see only his pitch black wings now anyway.       "You... will not be disappointed, lord Konnokami," - Zanka promised, because master Gennarisai had chose, by the Dark Four's opinion, not the one who was the best, but the one who was not going to be missed, if he were to become a fired clay.