Ryuichi heard the sound of fluttering wings. They seemed both far away and right next to him. Simultaneously.

It didn’t make sense.

Tengu?

He had that same feeling he’d had the night of his arrival to the school. As if something or someone was pulling him toward the sound.

As if someone was calling out to him.

Suddenly, Masaru rose up, cutting off his path. “Who are you?”

He stared at Masaru. “You know who I am.”

The dark spirit shook his head. “No. I don’t, and that bothers me. I thought you were demon-born. But you’re not. What are you?”

Ryuichi said what he knew. “I’m a student.”

Masaru laughed bitterly. “So many titles and roles, yet none of them fit you. It must be tiring.”

“No more so than one of your ilk hiding in a samurai school. Did you have nothing better to do?”

That literally went over Masaru like a tsunami. He could see the yōkai’s skin rippling as if he were a bird with ruffled feathers. “Careful, boy. Or there won’t be anything left of you.”

“I’m not afraid of your threats.”

Masaru snorted at that. “It’s not my threats that should scare you . . .” He rose up and transformed into an oni. “It’s my powers you need to kneel before.”

A flicker of fear went through Ryuichi, and then . . .

It stopped.

Without rhyme. Without reason.

He didn’t understand it. He should be terrified of the yōkai’s powers. As an oni, Masaru was larger than a house, with tusks and red, fiery eyes. He was a sight to behold.

Yet Ryuichi felt nothing.

It’s a dream. Only that would explain his lack of fear. That made sense.

But it felt real. Not the muted emotions of slumber or the dim colors he experienced in sleep.

Do you know what you are?

Ryuichi grimaced at the disembodied voice. “I’m a samurai.”

Cruel laughter taunted him.

Still in oni form, Masaru moved closer. Ryuichi stood his ground.

Refusing to cower, Ryuichi swung out his left hand, and from the shadows, he drew a sword.

With a hiss, Masaru stepped back. “Kendo-kage,” he breathed. “It’s not possible.”

Ryuichi angled his sword at the yōkai. “Anything is possible in a dream.”

Masaru moved to corner him, but suddenly a shadow appeared in his path, cutting him off so that it could protect Ryuichi.

“Stop!” it cried.

Ryuichi froze at the sight of a young warrior woman, dressed in full armor. He didn’t recognize her, but her voice was one he knew well. “Keiko?”

Flaming red hair fell over her shoulders from beneath her kabuto. Those familiar dark eyes stared at him. “This isn’t you, Ryuichi-chan. Put down your sword.”

He refused to believe what he was seeing. “It’s not real. You’re not really here.”