Page 3 of Dragon 7

Daisuke's sat at the far left.

Yamauba.

The mountain witch who devoured travelers but who, in some versions of the legend, had once been a midwife—a protector who turned predator only after losing too much. White hair. Sunken eyes. A mouth that could nurse or kill, depending on which side of the mountain she met you. The mouth had been carved open just wide enough to slip a blade through, so when Daisuke leaned in close, the man on the other end would never know whether the witch was about to whisper or bite.

Kaede's mask sat next to Daisuke's.

Tengu.

A long-nosed mountain demon with a beak that came forward like a bird's. Red lacquer. Black accents. Gold leaf had been pressed along the edge of the beak in a thin line, so when Kaede turned his head in battle, the strike of the gold would flash like a warning.

Toma's mask was a Namahage. A red-skinned ogre, the eyes bulging, the snarl hooked. The eyes had been carved deep and angled downward, so anyone Toma stood over would feel the ogre staring straight into them long before Toma himself ever looked down.

Then I settled my gaze on the twins’ masks.

I chuckled to myself.

Much to Reo’s annoyance, they had refused to wear demons on their faces and had chosen kitsune instead. Kitsune were yōkai—spirit foxes. Shapeshifters who could take human form for years before slipping back into the trees.

Tricksters.

Sometimes lovers.

Other times guardians.

They grew more tails as they aged. Nine tails meant the oldest, wisest, and most dangerous.

And a kitsune that bonded with a human heart stayed bound to it forever.

Through distance.

Through time.

Through death.

Perhaps that was what the twins loved about kitsune most of all—the everlasting love and loyalty.

Their masks rested side by side. Gleaming black. Golden teeth bared in matching grins. Silver whiskers swept back along the cheeks. Pointed ears tipped in gold. Eyes carved long and narrow. The artisan had matched them so precisely that even the brush strokes on the whiskers ran in identical directions, so no enemy on the field would ever know which twin he was about to die from.

Indistinguishable.

This will be the first time I won’t be able to tell them apart in battle.

I dug into my pocket, pulled out a blue lollipop, and unwrapped it slowly.

Across the table, Daisuke's eyes tracked the wrapper down to my fingers and back up to my mouth. “Another one?”

Here we go.

Daisuke held the expression of a bartender watching an alcoholic order his seventh drink. “You’ve already had two since we walked in here.”

“Only you would be more worried about my getting a cavity than our possible deaths tonight.” I slid the candy into my mouth.

“There’s the sugar rush too.”

I sucked on the new lollipop. “Let’s get back to strategy.”

The Claws stood in front of me with their weapons racked behind them. Magazines stacked on the side table. Ammunition crates open.