"The river runs high, Hunter-san," Mo’s low voice, vibrating in the damp air like a plucked gehu string. "The spirits are restless, they’re uneasy, your relentless hunting of the Ushi-Oni disrupts the cycles of the deep." The buffalo snorted, a blast of mist. "Disrupts, Shaman?" he bellowed back, a sound heavy as wet clay. "The deep is calm when the demons sleep. The only cycle I heed is the one of the blade and the blood that follows.”