Now that he thought about it, Toshi didn’t seem so bad. Maybe they could make up and be friends. Ryuichi would gladly go back and kiss the ground at the dirtbag’s feet if he could just reset this catastrophe and get out of this mess.

Be there for Kato as he healed.

But there was no way to go back and undo what had happened. Think ahead, Ryuichi. That was what Yoshi-sensei had tried his best to teach him. He wished he’d been a better student.

Sadly, the only path was forward. Wake from death and return to life . . .

As they made their way through the woods, Ryuichi couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching them. He could feel it like a cold breath on his skin. Like a snake slithering around his bare feet. Wet. Cold. Scary.

He sensed it.

Every part of him was sure something had them in its sights, waiting for them . . .

Still, he saw nothing.

Only the creepy darkness.

Everything was quiet, except for the sounds of the horses’ hooves and the pounding of his heart.

Maybe what he felt was Masaru watching them. It would make sense for Masaru to be there. He was supposed to be with Ryuichi, to protect him.

Instead, Masaru had abandoned him and vanished. Ryuichi had heard nothing from his snotty companion, and he was mad about it. Leave it to him to have the one and only yōkai he couldn’t depend on in a fight.

Worse, Masaru had fought against him and aided his enemy.

So much for “choosing him.” It seemed Masaru had more important things to do than take charge of his charge.

Like sit around in a room full of yōkai-infested junk.

Or pick belly lint, or whatever it was Masaru did in his spare time.

Sighing heavily, Ryuichi turned his thoughts to the matter at hand. “What are we patrolling for? Lord Hanzō’s enemies?”

Masa laughed. “Yes and no.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Katashi moved to ride beside him. “Means he has a lot of enemies. They’re not all human.”

They kept saying that, but Ryuichi was having a hard time wrapping his head around it. While he knew that yōkai existed, he didn’t really believe in demons.

Maybe Toshi had hit him harder than he realized, and he was unconscious and dreaming all this. It seemed as plausible as everything else—certainly more plausible than glowing bricks with faces and people dissolving into clouds of crimson dust. Had all of that been an illusion too?

Nothing had seemed real since he’d left Hiero’s. Not the castle, not Masaru or the bloodbath on the training field. Definitely not this Night Patrol, where they weren’t really patrolling but traveling to some unspecified place that only their drunken leader seemed to know.

And still the shadows watched.