Predator If It Bleeds 50

It was hard to tell over the clanking and huffing of Motokane's bodyguards, but beyond them the forest was unnaturally quiet. The wind did not penetrate far into the Sea of Trees. There were no birds singing, no insects buzzing, just the occasional tap of collected humidity falling on leaves. It was no wonder the place had been considered haunted even before an oni had moved in.
That morning the others had dressed for war.

Motokane's retinue were wearing their armor and helmets, with bows strung, spears held high, and their swords at their sides. The shogun's finest looked like fearsome combatants, a worthy challenge for any demon. Meanwhile, Hiroto lagged behind them, unarmed and stripped to the waist, with a bamboo pole balanced across his shoulder with a bundle hanging from each end. He had even gone and rolled about in the fields to complete the act. The other samurai thought he'd gone mad when he left his swords behind, but Hiroto looked and even smelled like a local farmer.

Hiroto tried to appear inconsequential, head down, tired and stumbling from rock to rock beneath his clumsy burden. He would be no threat, especially to a mighty oni. He was simply a porter, conscripted from the village to carry his betters' supplies because the forest was too rugged for their horses. The headman had told him that some of the other would-be demon hunters had done the same, and each time their porter had come running back alone, terrified, sometimes covered in blood, but alive. In his experience, most beast targeted the weakest prey. This Oni was different. It attacked the strong. He would use that to his advantage.-pg.290 chpt.11