Eight Million Gods-eARC by Wen Spencer

meowing?”
    The woman missed the importance of the question. It was likely that the police had determined that it was Yuuka under the thin layer of leaves. The detective was trying to figure out if Ogawa had any link to the murder.
    “I heard that Mr. Fujita had been badly burned in the fire,” Miss Ogawa said. “I figured that Yuuka’s at the hospital with him. Poor kid. It would be bad enough to lose the shrine and her father in one blow, but her kitten, too?”
    “And exactly where is the kitten now?” The detective obviously didn’t believe there was a cat.
    Miss Ogawa scanned the woods around them. “It ran off before I could catch it. I hope it’s okay.”
    “When was the last time you saw Yuuka?” the detective asked.
    He could tell the police that the killer had been a large man who had sexually assaulted the dead girl after he killed her. While the police wasted their time, though, questioning Miss Ogawa, he could study the primary crime scene before anyone could disturb it further.
    Careful not to draw attention to himself, he turned and walked away. Once he was cloaked in darkness, he went up the hill toward the burnt shrine.
    Halfway up, he found the kitten. Or perhaps more accurately, the kitten found him. In a sudden rustle of dead leaves, it came bounding out of the undergrowth and started to scale his leg with needle pricks of claws. He reached down and caught it before it reached his knees. It was a tiny orange bundle of fur and sharp claws and a rough purr.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked it.
    It gave a little squeak of meow in answer.
    He shook his head and continued up the hill. He might as well take it with him. If nothing else, it gave him an alibi for poking around the smoking ruins. Besides, if he left the kitten behind, it would get lost again.
    Like most temples, there was a little storefront that sold charms and fortunes that supplemented the offering income. The building had been deliberately set on fire. He could smell the kerosene used as accelerant. The ancient timbers would have gone up like paper. The fire had spread to other buildings. He stalked through the blackened landscape, cinders crackling under his feet.
    His cell phone vibrated quietly, reminding him that he was on a tight leash. He stood a moment, hand clenched tight around his phone as it rang again. Another ring and it would go to voicemail and a timer would start before someone would come hunting him. He was only trusted as long as he stayed on his leash.
    He took a deep breath and accepted the call. “What?”
    There was silence from the other side except for measured breathing.
    He growled in anger. “Someone set fire to a shrine to cover his tracks. He killed and raped a shrine maiden. Am I done here?”
    “The shrine is dedicated to Taira no Atsumori. He’s enshrined in a katana .”
    He studied the small, upraised building behind the main worship hall. The honden would have housed the god’s shintai . Nothing was left of the building but smoldering timbers. The katana would have been made of the highest quality steel by one of Japan’s legendary sword makers. This one was imbued with the power of a spirit worshiped as a god. It would have easily survived this fire. He should be able to sense the presence of the kami even if the sword was buried in the smoking ashes. “It’s not here.”
    “Any sign of who took the katana ?”
    “From what I can tell, it was a lone male. He was a tall, heavy man. He’s about six foot three. Close to two hundred pounds. He’s taken a splash bath in Ralph Lauren’s Polo Black to cover the fact he sweats like a pig. Between his size and grooming habits, I’m going to say he’s American.”
    That triggered a quiet “hmm.”
    He waited, teeth clenched. None of this had anything to do with Simon. The trail was growing colder and colder as he was kept running in circles.
    “A man matching that description was murdered in Umeda district of Osaka last