Chapter 17: Flux
Bolts of golden Chi-lightning roared as they scorched holes through the Arm Demon's limbs, in a couple of cases severing them outright. Kaigaku, too, roared, but not with the ire of heaven. No, his were roars of laughter, of glee at the prospect of this fight. He'd entered the clearing with all the violence and speed befitting a wielder of lightning, and judging by the way he charged at the demon with his blade drawn back in preparation for a heavy cut, Kaigaku didn't have any intention of slowing down now.
Even as his boisterously bloodthirsty rival charged the morphed demon, Fox rose from his crouch and flexed the Fang's fingers. With that motion, the poisonous Sabimaru blade spun aside, a new tool taking its place. Fox gripped his Nichirin blade in both hands and moved to join Kaigaku, cleanly severing a questing limb with a powerful overhead Ichimonji strike as he advanced.
Kaigaku's approach was far less deliberate and methodical than Fox's, but what it lacked in precision it made up for in speed and sheer carnage. Unphased by the grotesquerie of green flesh and grasping digits, Kaigaku all but waded through the veritable thicket of limbs, his Nichirin blade never still for even an instant.
Viscous, tainted blood flowed in his wake like an unholy stream as Kaigaku chopped, slashed, shredded, and flensed his way to the Arm Demon's body. Bare moments later, Fox reached the mountainous demon's side as well, and almost as one, the two leapt towards its neck. Kaigaku's blade flared gold as the signature sparking claw of Lightning Ball enveloped it, a Breath whooshing from his lungs. Fox, on the other hand, returned his sword to its sheath in preparation for another Cross.
The tumorous mass of hateful flesh let out an agonized howl even as it flailed blindly towards those who had injured it so. Blind though it was, its numerous arms made up for that hindrance, at least in part.
Kaigaku, to his credit, didn't hesitate for even a second to switch forms from the second to the third, a coruscating halo of faux-electricity spreading around his body as he unleashed Buzzing Mosquito Thunder to fend off the chaotic, omnidirectional tantrum of an attack.
Fox, on the other hand, pushed off of a spasming arm as wide around as he was, before using the Fang's grapnel to reposition himself and perch in a tree. He looked over to Makomo, who he'd briefly lost track of in the frantic pace of battle.
She'd descended from her own perch in a tree, and now seemed to have taken up a two handed stance roughly a dozen meters away from the battle. While her body was remarkably still, Fox could tell that she was preparing something big; her Chi was roiling within her like a boiling lake, and even as he looked on, a full three-fourths of it flowed down her arms and into her sword.
…
Actually, big was likely understating it by a significant margin. Regardless, the sheer amount of Chi she was pouring into the technique suggested — no, demanded that it would be a decisive killing blow. If Makomo somehow failed…
Well. It didn't bear thinking about, because she wouldn't. He and Kaigaku would make sure of that.
-x-x-x-
Makomo stared across the clearing, her Breaths deep and even. As though in a trance, she raised the borrowed katana in front of her, and then moved.
Even as she shot forward, she spun, her blade pivoting around her as she acted as a fulcrum. As she moved, she faintly registered both the aggressive, unknown swordsma and Kiyo—no, Fox, rejoin battle with the Arm Demon. The murderous monster let out a frenzied shriek as they leapt at it, and then it almost seemed to explode. What had to be hundreds of arms shot blindly in every direction even as the flesh of its massive gut seemed to recede.
Nonetheless, Makomo continued her approach, the borrowed blade bit through limb after limb, each successive rotation bringing a smoother, cleaner cut than the last. With each rotation, too, did the thin banner of water trailing behind Makomo grow in length and breadth, soon resembling nothing so much as an aquatic flag of victory.
The violent stranger seemed to revel in the danger, meeting the unholy sproutings with a flourish of his blade that bloomed into a thicket of lightning. "Fourth Form,", he all but crowed through a giddy sneer, "Distant Thunder!" Even as arms fried and burned, the swordsman was charging once more, golden light enveloping his blade in a jagged talon.
Fox, on the other hand, made no move to attack or dodge the oncoming forest of flesh, instead settling into a strange stance reminiscent of a martial artist. Makomo very nearly lost focus as several arms blasted through his torso like he wasn't even there, but it quickly became clear that he wasn't.
With a flash of crimson, flaming feathers, the afterimage of Fox that had been left behind faded. In the next instant, an incandescent flame blossomed behind the Arm Demon's head, and from it leapt Fox, completely unscathed by fist and flame both. His hand darted to his hip and wrapped around the hilt of his blade, the false fingers of his prosthetic gripping the scabbard to position it for the cut.
Almost as one, shinobi and swordsman alike unleashed their strikes. The air shook as the stranger's arms blurred, his strikes moving with such speed that one blade seemed to become five. "Second Form," he snarled through a vicious grin, "Lightning Ball!" Five cuts were thrown and five jagged claws of lightning gouged at the Arm Demon's protected neck.
Fox's strike, befitting a shinobi, was far less eye-catching, but no less effective for its understated nature. Silver smoke trailed after his sweeping blade, drawing first a line, then a cross, and finally a six pointed—
"Ashina Star."
The declaration was firm and clear, easily audible to Makomo despite the demon's shrieks and her being a meter away.
For all the power the two had brought to bear, though, the Arm Demon's protection of its neck was vigilant and strong. Even as the layers of arms that clutched at its neck fell away, more sprouted to take their place.
But for scarce seconds, there was a window of vulnerability as it regenerated, and so Makomo let out a cry as she brought her blade around again. Her cry was quickly drowned out by a roar, but this time it was not the impersonal, primal roar of thunder that accompanied the stranger's strikes.
No, this roar was almost organic, the triumphant bellow of a guardian god.
"Breath of Water, Tenth Form…"
As Makomo charged up one of the Arm Demon's limbs to reach its neck, the Dragon of Change took shape. Absently, she noticed that the draconic construct was different from Master Urokodaki's; namely, its neck was thinner and more serpentine, and rather than the forest of spikes that wreathed his dragon's head like a crown, hers sported a pair of long, thin, antler-like horns.
What it looked like didn't matter, she decided as she made one last revolution and the water dragon's head snapped forward, translucent fangs flashing.
"...Constant Flux!"
As the borrowed Nichirin blade sheared through the regenerating limbs and bit into the Arm Demon's neck, so too did the Dragon of Change's mouth close around the demon's head, biting cleanly through on both ends.
Makomo finished the final rotation of the technique, her blade passing through the creature's neck with scarcely any resistance. She hopped lightly to the ground as the already-dissolving carcass slammed into the ground, ash floating off of it and drifting gently, mournfully to the ground.
She turned back to face the demon, a blank look on her face. If the Arm Demon's eyes and mouth hadn't been melted partially shut by Fox's poison, she was sure she'd have seen proof of its rage and anger in its eyes, would have heard it in its curses. As it was, though, all the dying monster could do was whimper.
Makomo jumped as Fox seemed to appear at her side, his right hand raised with his palm raised in half of the gesture of prayer. Confusion spread across her face, but she at least had the manners to not interrupt him.
The stranger, on the other hand, seemed to have no such reservations, letting out a low whistle and addressing her with a dark, speculative glint in his eyes. "That was a hell of a technique, girly. You're no chump, that's for damn sure."
She gave him a baleful look, and replied flatly, "My name is Makomo. And no, I don't suppose I am." She arched an eyebrow exaggeratedly. "And you are? Other than an absolute mess, of course."
He looked down at his clothes, as though noticing for the first time how dirty they'd become due to his barbaric fighting style. Demon blood didn't dissolve into ash if it'd had time to dry, after all.
"...Huh. I am, ain't I?" He shrugged, uncomfortably unconcerned with the fact that he was caked in blood. "Anyways, the name's Kaigaku. Don't forget it." He then turned his head towards Fox, and frowned. "Oi, what're you praying for a demon for?"
Fox lowered his hand and opened his eyes, then turned towards them. "I am not praying for the demon; I am praying for the human that it once was. Surely, it will have to repent for its sins, but once that ill karma is burned away, it will return to the cycle of reincarnation to be reborn." He let out a sigh. "I can do nothing for those who have succumbed to the curse of demonhood save for offering them the mercy of a swift end," he patted the hilt of his sword, "but to offer my well-wishes for their immortal soul costs me but a moment of time."
Abruptly, Fox seemed to come to a decision. He nodded to both of them in turn, offering them only the words, "Do not allow yourselves to die here," then leapt into the trees. Before Makomo could even blink, the shinobi had completely vanished, leaving both her and Kaigaku blinking in confusion.
"Well," Kaigaku said after a few moments of silence, "you heard him. See you at the end of the Selection." With those parting words, he turned and left, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he walked deeper into the forest.
Now alone save for the ashes of the demon that had tormented so many of Master Urokodaki's former students, Makomo exhaled, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden. She leaned against a tree and stared at the stars.
"Boys," she decided, "are stupid."
-x-x-x-x-x-
After parting with Makomo and Kaigaku, Fox continued to patrol the testing grounds. He was only one person, yes, but if his intervention meant that even one more person survived, then that had meaning.
As he patrolled, he resumed his practice of Full Focus: Constant. He'd had to halt it during the fight with that morphed demon, because it was simply too risky. If he'd faltered even for a second due to the strain, it likely would have meant his death.
By the end of the first night, he'd managed to extend the duration of his constant Breathing to a full hour, but as the sun rose and he settled down in the crook of a tree's branches, an issue occurred to him.
Full Focus: Constant required him to always have Full Focus Breathing active, whether he was awake or not. That meant he needed some way to determine if he was actually maintaining that state while asleep, something he lacked, being atop a forested mountain and all.
Fox frowned. Even so, he wouldn't give up so easily. As he drifted off to sleep, he made sure his Breaths were even and deep, so that perhaps his body would become used to the feeling even while resting.
Unfortunately (but unsurprisingly), when he woke at sunset, he could instantly tell that he'd lapsed out of Full Focus: Constant during the night. Suppressing a flash of irritation, he filled his lungs and continued on his way.
-x-x-x-x-x-
The remaining six nights passed all too quickly, with little of note occuring in the interim. For the most part, Fox was either able to intervene in time to save a swordsman who was out of their depth, or found that it was unnecessary to do so, whether it was due to the swordsman's skill or due to teamwork like the pair he'd first come across.
No less than five times, though, he arrived too late. In those situations, all he could do was put the demon to rest and bury the body, as he had done before. He did not know the names of any of the fallen, but he took their blades with him as he had done with the first. This time, though, he stowed them in the box that Wolf had given him to carry the Fang's attachments.
Perhaps the Ubuyashiki twins would see that the blades were returned to the deceased's teachers; a cold comfort, to be sure, but closure all the same.
As for Fox's practice of Full Focus: Constant, he frustratingly hit a block on the sixth day. Each day afterward, he could not increase his time no matter how hard he pushed himself. He felt as though he was missing something, as though there was an unknown, intangible tether holding him back from crossing a line.
It was maddening, but Fox refused to give up. He might be stuck at just six hours of Full Focus Breathing now, but he would break through. He had to.
As the sun rose at the end of the seventh night, Fox made his way to the edge of the testing area, marked by dimly gleaming wisteria flowers. Upon emerging into the clearing, his eyes swept the grounds, taking in the diminished numbers of applicants.
Before the Final Selection had begun, there had been thirty-five applicants. Afterwards?
A mere thirteen remained, and that was including Makomo, Kaigaku, and himself. Even accounting for the six he had personally dug graves for, and the seventh who'd been swallowed by the Arm Demon, that still left fifteen people. Fifteen teenagers, killed and eaten in the process of determining if they had the skills to become a Demon Slayer.
Fifteen lives that Fox had failed to save.
His hands balled into fists, the Fang creaking due to the sheer pressure of his furious, sorrowful grip. Fox closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and Breathed. Every iota of his focus was pushed towards managing his Breath, leaving no room for considering anything else.
After a minute or two, he opened his eyes. Only those who knew him intimately would have been able to see how the spark had faded from those ice-blue irises, how flat and dull they'd become.
But none of those people were here right now, were they?
As Fox walked into the clearing, he scanned the crowd once more, this time with his inner eye. To a man, those who had survived were the ones who'd registered the highest level of Chi activity when he'd looked them over at the beginning.
Another pang of pain came when he saw the ponytailed girl who radiated wind. Her eyes were sunken and sad, and it was easy to see why. The weaker boy who'd felt faintly of water and who'd teamed up with her was nowhere in the crowd.
The sound of clapping snapped him from his spiraling thoughts. Fox realized, as he looked towards the platform where Hinaki and Nichika Ubuyashiki stood once more, that he'd been clenching his jaw. As the twins spoke, he rubbed his now sore mouth and chin, and let out a long sigh.
'This didn't go anything like I imagined,' he thought ruefully, even as newly minted Demon Slayers were called up in groups of five to receive their Kasugai messenger crows and to select the ore for the forging of their Nichirin swords.
He, Makomo, Kaigaku, and the ponytailed girl (whose name was apparently Ozaki) were called forward in the second group, along with a stern-faced, short haired young man named Daichi, whose Chi was reminiscent of sand.
A crow landed on each of their respective shoulders, and each of the crows was slightly different in its own way. Makomo's, for instance, had a beak so diligently polished that it glittered in the sun, while Kaigaku was partnered with a frumpy, ornery bird whose bad attitude seemed a match for his partner's at his worst.
Fox, on the other hand, was assigned a wizened crow, battle-scarred and imperious. Its left eye was missing, a cross-shaped scar stretching across that side of its head. Despite that, though, there was nothing about the aged bird that felt weak.
Next, they approached a table covered in lumps of ore. When Fox looked at the ingots spread before him, he could see no particular difference between them...in the material world, at least. When he gazed upon them with his inner eye, he saw that each of them was reacting differently to each of their Chi signatures. Upon finding the one that resonated the most strongly with his own life energy, he picked it up and presented it to Hinaki.
One by one, each of the other Demon Slayers picked up the ore that resonated with their Chi the most, though from the looks of things, only Makomo and Kaigaku actually realized why they'd picked up what they did.
After the final three surviving applicants received their crows and chose the ore for their blades, they were sent on their way...save for Fox, who was asked to stay behind for a moment.
"Our father, the Master—" Hinaki began, pausing to let Nichika finish the sentence, "—requests that you meet with him—"
Hinaki continued as her sister paused,"—at the headquarters in Kyoto—"
"—twelve days hence." Nichika finished. "Your Nichirin blade—"
"—will have arrived—"
"—by that time."
Fox nodded. "Understood." The shinobi then unslung the box from his shoulder and retrieved the five blades he'd taken with him. "During my time on the mountain, I came across no fewer than six deceased applicants. One of the blades I gave to Makomo, as hers was shattered, but the remaining five I entrust to you."
Though only his eyes were visible to the twins, the sadness in them was plain to see. "If they could somehow be returned to the teachers of the fallen…" Fox's voice trailed off, a distant, mournful look in his eyes.
This time, likely due to the severity of the topic, the twins did not speak in their odd, alternating cadence. Instead, Hinaki alone spoke, her voice clear and quiet. "Thank you for this, Fox. We will see to it that the Cultivators have, at the very least, closure."
Fox merely nodded, unable or unwilling to reply to the offered gratitude. After exchanging stilted farewells, the shinobi started down the mountain, only to halt in surprise. Unexpectedly, Makomo and Kaigaku were waiting for him at the foot of the first flight of stairs.
"Come on," Kaigaku drawled. "Little Miss here wants us to meet her teacher; something about that morphed demon we helped her kill."
Makomo briefly bristled at the nickname, before sighing and shaking her head. "What this crass fellow says is correct, Fox."
Fox reached up to the mask and tugged it down, letting out a sigh of relief.
"Actually," Kiyoshi said, calmer now that he'd swapped faces once more, "you can call me Kiyoshi now, Makomo."
She gave a puzzled smile. "If you say so, Kiyoshi."
And with that, the unlikely trio continued down the mountain. Their destination?
Sagiri Mountain, the home of the former Water Pillar, and the most skilled Cultivator of the Breath of the Water: Sakonji Urokodaki.
AN: A bit late this week, for which I apologise. I struggled to get the fight scene exactly how I wanted; hopefully it came out well!