Tsuruji's crow did not wait long. The very next morning, it landed on his windowsill, cawing loudly.
"South-southwest! South-southwest! A town at the foot of Mount Sagiri! People disappear at night! Go! Investigate!"
Hayate was already waiting outside, sharpening his jagged blades. Ren was there too, looking over a hand-drawn map, muttering about travel times and optimal routes.
Without a word, Tsuruji started walking. The other two fell in behind him. This was their rhythm now.
The town was a small, quiet place. The people looked tired and afraid. An old man at the town's edge pointed a shaking finger towards an old mine shaft on the mountain.
"The sounds... come from there at night," he whispered. "No one who goes in... comes out."
They reached the mine as the sun began to set. The entrance was a dark hole in the mountain, like a waiting mouth. A cold, damp smell drifted out.
Ren crouched, examining the ground. "Multiple tracks going in. None coming out. The soil composition suggests..."
Hayate sniffed the air. "Demon. A strong one." He grinned, a flash of white in the growing dark. "Good."
Tsuruji looked into the blackness. He drew his black Nichirin blade. The familiar, cold weight felt right in his hand.
"Stay close," he said, his voice flat. It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order. "Do not get in my way."
He walked into the mine. Hayate and Ren exchanged a look, then followed him into the dark.