Sombra, still invisible, takes a step in the demon’s direction and raises her hands. Despite not awaiting visitors, it is comfortably armed, as though it is always armed, preferring the most dangerous form its human host can take. One katana rests at its back, another sheathed at its waist. Sombra supposes this is most convenient when slaughtering its innocent, wayward prey.
“Genji Shimada.” McCree calls his name loudly and clearly. “I know who you are. And I’m here to help.”
The Shimada estate is rotting.
A cherry blossom tree sits near the gazebo in the center of the second garden. The side of the tree closest to the first entrance blooms soft and pink, but as Sombra and McCree circle the tree, the petals grow withered and brown. The side of the tree near the castle itself has no petals at all, its branches shriveled and covered in fungus. The same goes for the rest of the garden; everything near the exterior still grows, but everything near the castle walls is dead.
Shimada Castle, on the other hand, is falling apart. The roof of the lowest level has caved in at one corner, as though something crashed through it, and the rest of the building is in disrepair. The terra cotta shingles are discolored, some cracked in half, some missing from the roof entirely. The smell of mildew intensifies as Sombra and McCree draw closer.
“God damn,” McCree whispers, his face twisted in disgust. “No wonder everybody thinks these are some ancient oni. Whatever’s here aged the place. These look like ruins.”
Sombra, walking invisibly next to him, flexes her fingers, her gun still resting at her side. “How observant,” she drawls, rolling her glowing eyes at him. “The oni are ancient. It doesn’t matter that the brothers are still young. Soy curioso, I thought you knew. How many exorcisms have you done, McCree?”
He isn’t fazed, looking rather disinterested in her light jab as his eyes flicker around the garden warily. “One, and it failed. It’s not an experience I wanted to repeat. But hell, at least the company’s good this time.”