The mountain shrine was silent, save for the wind in the cedars. The Toyol, a small, green-skinned spirit with a toddler's belly and sharp teeth, crept over the threshold. Coin-Slip. It smelled gold. Specifically, the gold leaf on the war-fan resting on the altar.
High in the rafters, the Tengu watched. He adjusted his red mask. He had dealt with ronin, demons, and arrogant monks. A sticky-fingered baby ghost was beneath his dignity, but duty was duty.
Gone with the Wind
The Toyol giggled, reaching for the prize with tiny, grasping fingers. Infant Wail Distraction? No, it needed stealth today.
The Tengu dropped from the ceiling, landing without a sound. Teaching of the Blade. He didn't draw his katana. He simply tapped the Toyol's hand with his lacquered sheath. "That is not for you."
The Toyol hissed, baring needle teeth. It scampered up a pillar, trying to flank the warrior. It lunged, aiming for the Tengu's ankles.
The Tengu sighed. He snapped his fan open. "Begone."
Mountain Gale. He swept the fan once. The air pressure in the room dropped instantly as a localized hurricane blasted forward. The Toyol was lifted off its feet, its scream lost in the roar of the wind. It was tumbled out the door, down the stairs, and launched clear into the valley below. The Tengu snapped the fan shut and sat back down. The shrine was quiet again.