The Twelve Kingdoms: Shadow of the Moon

could not move. She turned to the child and said, "Gyokuyou, run to the village and have someone come here. There's not much time. As fast as you can."
    "Yes, Mom."
    Youko sat up. "I'm okay." She said to the mother and child, "I thank you both very much."
    She spoke bruskly, by way of turning down the offer. She managed to get to her feet and crossed the road to the steeply rising slope on the other side.
    "Just a minute, where are you going?"
    Youko didn't know herself. So she didn't answer.
    "Wait. The sun is almost down. If you head into the mountains, you'll die for sure."
    Youko slowly crossed the road. Her hand hurt with every step.
    "Let's go to the village."
    The grade here was quite precarious. Climbing the slope with only one hand, would take considerable effort.
    "We're traveling merchants. We're going as far as Bakurou. You've nothing to fear from us. Let's go to the village, shall we?"
    Youko caught hold of a root growing out of the roadbed.
    "Wait, what's the hurry? Why aren't you taking this seriously?"
    Youko glanced back over her shoulder. The woman stared at Youko, her eyes wide with bewilderment, like the child immobilized by her consternation.
    "Please, let me be. If I do go with you to the village, what will be waiting for me there?"
    "What has that to do with anything? The sun is setting! You're injured . . . . "
    "Yes, indeed. You'd better hurry. You have a small child with you."
    "Wait . . . . "
    "I'm used to it. Thank you for the sweets."
    The woman looked at Youko in confusion. It was possible she was simply acting out of kindness. Or possibly not. Youko couldn't know for sure which.
    She started once more to climb the slope. Below her the child called out. She held out both hands towards Youko. In one hand was the bamboo canteen, in the other a teacup filled to the brim with the syrup.
    "Take these. It wasn't enough, what we gave you before."
    Youko looked to the mother. "But . . . . "
    "It's okay. Well, then, Gyokuyou."
    At her mother's urging, the child reached out and placed the cup and canteen at Youko's feet. She jumped down, ran back to where her mother was strapping on her pack.
    Youko watched blankly as the child pulled on her own pack. She had no idea of how to respond. The mother and child glanced back at her many times as they descended the hill.
    After they had disappeared from view, Youko picked up the canteen and teacup. Her knee gave out and she sat down on the ground.
    It's better this way.
    She couldn't know for certain that they were acting out of the best of intentions. After arriving at the village, perhaps their attitude would have changed. Even if it didn't, once they found out Youko was a kaikyaku, she'd be hauled off to the county seat. As painful as it might be, she had to take precautions. She couldn't trust anybody, couldn't expect anything. The minute she got careless and naive, she paid for it the hard way.
    "They just might have helped you, you know?"
    Again, that intolerable voice. Youko answered without turning around. "It may have been a trap."
    "Perhaps, but you won't see that kind of help again."
    "It may have been no help at all."
    "Considering the state of your body and hand, will you make it through the night?"
    "One way or another."
    "You better chase after them, no?"
    "I'm fine here."
    "Little girl, you have gone and thrown away the first and last real chance you'll ever get."
    "Shut up!"
    Youko turned, sweeping wide with the sword. The monkey's head was gone. Only it's bright laughter remained, disappearing up the slope and into the underbrush.
    Youko glanced back down the road. Dusk was falling. It began to rain, pebbling the road with small black spots.

Chapter 34
    T hat night was as bad as any night she'd been through. She was dead on her feet. The cold rain stole away her body heat. Naturally, a bad night for humans was a good night for youma.
    Her clothing clung to her, restricting her movement. Her numb, lame limbs would not work the way she wanted. Some sensation had returned to her right hand, but barely enough. Holding the sword was extraordinarily difficult. To make things worse, the hilt became slippery in the rain. She had no idea how many foes there were in the surrounding darkness. And though the youma attacking her were on the small side, there were very many of them.
    She was knee-deep in mud, covered with the blood of her victims and the blood flowing from her own wounds. As the rain washed away the blood and mud, it also washed