The Shield of Kuromori. Jason Rohan

      ‘We’ve got company,’ one of the drivers said to the lead oni.

      ‘I know,’ the chief replied, pointing a claw up at the gallery. Kiyomi raised her middle finger in acknowledgement.

      ‘No, outside. Some stupid-looking gaijin kid in shorts. He can see us.’

      The mask raised its eyebrows. ‘Kuromori? Hmm. Nothing changes. We stick to the plan. If he gives us any trouble, I’ll take care of him.’

      ‘Here it goes!’ said the oni with the saw.

      ‘Quickly! Take up the slack,’ ordered the boss.

      Moving as one, the oni all took up positions, some grabbing hold of the telescope, others bracing the frame and the remainder taking hold of the cables. The giant instrument pivoted on the last of its mounting before, with a final cut, it lurched free. Cries and groans filled the dome as the oni struggled to support the weight. Kiyomi watched the gantry buckle outwards, but it didn’t break.

      ‘Steady . . . steady!’ called the chief. ‘Lower it gently. Six and Eight, move into position.’

      Two oni ran forward to situate themselves at each end of the telescope and it was lowered on to their shoulders.

      In well-drilled, practised movements, the monsters arranged themselves round their prize, six on each side, like coffin-bearers, and proceeded to shuffle towards the lower exit, led by the one with the saw.

      Silver remained in the room. His glowing red eyes picked out Kiyomi, hunched on the walkway, her arms round her knees.

      ‘So you’re the girl who likes to kill oni,’ he said.

      Kiyomi glared back at him. ‘Put down the gun and let’s find out.’

      Silver chuckled and reached into his uniform pocket, extracting a sausage-shaped metal tube.

      ‘Now what?’ Kiyomi pressed. ‘You’re going to shoot me and run away like the coward you are?’

      The oni flipped the cap off the tube and tapped a cigar into his hand. He bit the end off and stuck it between his fangs. ‘Hey, you kill oni, I kill humans. It’s what we do.’ He snapped his fingers and a flame jumped up from his hand. He waved the cigar tip over the flame and sucked, inhaling deeply. ‘Oh, man. That’s good. As I was saying, it’s nothing personal, just business, right?’ He leaned down and tore the cap off the large steel drum. ‘No? OK – for you, it’s personal – but still, we’re not that different. Am I right or am I right?’

      He tapped out a beat on the lid of the drum before picking it up and, humming again, he poured petrol on to the floor and splashed it up the walls. Gasoline fumes wavered and swirled high into the air, making Kiyomi’s eyes sting from the sweet, sickly odour.

      Silver set the drum down again and pressed the back of his palm against his forehead by way of a salute. ‘Well, it’s been nice talking to you. Who knows? Maybe I’ll see you in Hell one of these days.’

      And with that he turned on his heel and headed for the exit, tossing the cigar over his shoulder. It bounced once, rolled – and nuzzled a puddle of fuel.

      Kiyomi barely had time to scream before – WHOOOOMPf! – a blue flame rolled across the floor, igniting the remainder of the petrol. In seconds, the interior of the dome was ablaze. Fiery tongues leapt high into the air, licking at the vintage wooden ceiling.

      Kenny hurled himself to the ground as the world exploded around him. Blistering chunks of high-velocity lead chewed up the asphalt, grass, bushes, trees – everything.

      BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! The Minigun roared, disgorging over twenty rounds per second through a fiery halo which hovered in front of the spinning barrels. Spent cartridges cascaded to the floor, clinking like a slot machine paying out a jackpot win. Chips of tarmac pelted Kenny’s body and wooden splinters stabbed into his hands, which were shielding his head. Move! his brain screamed, but his legs weren’t listening.

      ‘Me see you!’ the oni bellowed above the roar of gunfire, and adjusted its aim.

      Kenny centred his ki, imagining a thick heavy wall and threw an arm up.

      ‘Huh?!’ he heard the oni cry, and he opened his eyes. A low bank of soil had risen up from the ground, shielding Kenny from the oni’s weapon. The beat of thudding bullets stopped. ‘Not fair!’ the oni bellowed and Kenny heard the thumping of its boots approaching.

      This time, his legs scrambled into action, propelling him headlong into the nearest stand of trees. Foliage detonated once again on all sides as the oni resumed firing.

      ‘Where you hide, boy, if no trees left?’ the oni said.

      Kenny crouched behind a thick, sturdy Japanese cedar, a metre wide at the base. He was pinned down, with valuable seconds ticking away.

      ‘Hey, stupid!’ he yelled. ‘Reckon you can chop down this tree?’ Kenny poked his head round for the oni to see.

      ‘Oni not stupid!’ the oni said.

      Kenny dropped to his knees and ducked his head as a flurry of bullets ripped into the tree. The smell of burning wood stung his nostrils and splinters rained down.

      ‘Hah!’ the oni said. ‘Me tell you. No tree, no hide. You die now.’

       K-RAKKK!

      Kenny peered upwards, saw the huge tree start to lean over – and smiled.

      ‘Hey, what so funn–?’ The oni’s yellow eyes widened as the massive trunk crashed down, driving him into the ground like a hammer pounding a nail.

      Kenny was trying to think of something smart to say when movement caught his eye. The three delivery vans were pulling out from the observatory, followed by the twelve-metre container lorry. The oni were leaving, but where was Kiyomi?

      Edging forward for a better view, Kenny saw a wisp of black smoke rising from the observatory dome. With an icy ball of dread in the pit of his stomach, he began to run.

      Kiyomi shrank from the sea of fire below; with the floor now a blazing inferno, there was no way down. The heat was as intense as a sauna and growing hotter by the second.

      The flames jumped higher, licking at the timber beams of the roof, while a burst of confetti sparks danced in the air. Kiyomi buried her face in the crook of her arm and blinked furiously. It was only a matter of time before the wooden dome caught alight and, even if she could survive the fire, the roof would cave in and crush her.

      Kiyomi sprang to her feet. Ignoring the steam rising off her leathers and wiping sweat from her eyes, she scanned the inside of the dome, searching for a telltale sign of movement within the pall of smoke. There! A faint stirring about a third of the way up. Kiyomi ran round the gantry until she was in line with the disturbance.

      She reached into her boots and drew a short dagger from each one. Gripping them tightly, she stepped up on to the searing handrail, balancing on the narrow beam like a gymnast, with her back to the raging flames. She took a deep breath, focused her will and crouched down, before launching upwards, kicking off with her toes, arms stretched high over her head.

      She soared aloft, into the smoke, keeping in line with one of the heavy, rib-like support beams that curved overhead. As soon as the joist was within reach, Kiyomi stabbed the blade tips into it, one on each side, skewering the wood. The tungsten-carbide points bit deeply and held. She dangled for a second, feeling the ligaments in her arms and shoulders stretch, while the beams above creaked and popped, expanding in the rising temperature.

      Kiyomi blinked