Disclaimer: I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago. I only own my OCs and my story plots.
Retsu is currently 7 years old.
Belladonna
Chapter 27:
Unveil
"Yozusume is dead?" Enchō parrots back in his shock, genuine surprise lacing his tone.
The yōkai had hosted yet another show at Seia Pavilion. Not one to miss his favourite writer's works whenever he had the time to spare, Abe no Ariyuki, known opera enthusiast, has to attend. With the show having drawn to an end, the duo retreated backstage for their private conversation, walking side by side down the dark hallway.
"The contract broke, per say. I could summon her no more." Ariyuki's small, ever present, amicable smile is firmly in place, despite the emotion swirling within the very depths of his eyes not quite matching it. The child waves a finger around, a mock serious expression adorning his youthful face. "Shikigami aren't easy to kill, you know~ Specific conditions must be met, and the scarce few methods available are hard to carry out. Only special Ayakashi or those who command a strong Hyakki Yako could plausibly hope to finish the job, but… Yosuzume is smart. She would only, at most, suffer some damage before dispersing, not die."
Enchō frowns in befuddlement, falling into a contemplative silence as he organises his thoughts, before finally revealing. "His daughter has taken out Mao's hammer, Yosuzume, along with it."
"It was her?"
Enchō blinks slowly, his eerie blank gaze landing upon the 'child' standing before him. There is a rather peculiarly sharp glint in the other's olive green eyes. "Yes?"
"How certain are you that the daughter was the one who took out Yosuzume?"
"Pretty certain. The rumours have spread all throughout the Kantō region by now." That is no lie. Those underlings take every opportunity to gossip.
Ariyuki turns his eyes back to the front, humming.
"Is something the matter?"
"She is a bit… young."
"I suppose we have already established that."
"No, no." Ariyuki shook his head, his soft hair tousling from side to side at the motion. "I'm saying it is nearly impossible for someone her age to terminate Yosuzume."
"So it wasn't her?"
"I have my doubts, is all. It only looked like she was the culprit, did it not?"
"…Are you suggesting… a third party?"
Ariyuki smiles, shrugging. "I think it is more believable than what we heard. Maybe it has something to do with that blind one. We don't know much about him do we? Or~ it could be an entirely different being we have yet to meet."
Enchō mulls over the possibility. There are still some things he does not really understand. "…You've mentioned that there are specific conditions that must be met, and hardly many methods that could potentially kill a Shikigami… could you perhaps shed some light on the matter, so I may better understand?"
"Hmmm… There are a few ways… A powerful Onmyōji, one that is none other than the Clan head. Or~ another Shikigami. But since they have the power to end other summoned ones, they must be nothing less of a legendary class. Hmmm, or perhaps it could be a special weapon, one even more potent than Nenekirimaru."
The storyteller stares unblinkingly at the smaller, but older being. "Is there such a thing?"
"Not that I know of~" Ariyuki smiles cheekily.
"Brain also went missing during the Shikoku invasion, and we still have no idea if or how he was found out."
"How did they react?"
"That's the question isn't it? There is no reaction apart from the Three-Eyed party quietly replacing their clan head with a new candidate."
The Onmyōji blinks. "Heh~? Nothing at all?"
"Nothing."
"Hmmm, no reaction to a missing executive, so it could only mean… all the higher ups are in on this." Ariyuki chirps. "Which reminds me, they've all been fairly cooperative lately, especially ever since the little girl began taking command."
Enchō arches a brow at the insinuation. "Surely she's not smart enough to start pulling strings?"
"Why not?" Ariyuki smiles and smiles. "I took over the clan when I was pretty young too~ We've both got experienced advisors by our sides as well."
"Based on the reports from Minagoroshi Jizō, she displayed no signs of extraordinary intelligence in Kyōto."
Ariyuki shrugs, "Maybe she's a late bloomer. Her memory and learning had been controlled then right? Perhaps regaining her memory might have introduced new variables."
Enchō wasn't sure if he wanted to even entertain the notion of another plausible Ariyuki-the-second running rampant, especially if they have a hold within the Nura Clan's commanding position.
"Mah, it's all speculation anyway."
Sanmoto's mouth is quiet. "…If everything you've said is true, then his daughter is proving to be nearly as troublesome as him."
"Then, shall we install a backup plan~?"
"…We'll see how things go in Kyōto first."
The scent of tatami mats and fresh, dried hay tickling my nose are the first things I wake up to. Laying upon the soft futon, snug and cozy beneath thick warm covers, I blink a few times while taking a couple slow, deep breaths. I stretch lazily, loosening up my muscles that have grown stiff from maintaining one position for the majority of the night. Some of the mist that shrouds the forest twenty-four-seven manages to seep in via the tiny hairline gaps of the windows, leaving the air a bit more chilly.
I am still adjusting to the dense Osore all around me, it is a lot more tangible than back at the main house, a phenomenon which only occurs when all of our executives gather together for an important meeting. I feel well-rested due to the environment, a small blessing. Training has been gruelling, and it will only get more challenging in the upcoming days. Letting out a small breath, I stare up at the ceiling blearily. 'What time is it?'
Tōno no Satō have in possession only a handful of clocks, mostly for work-related purposes, other than that, the residents here rely on their internal body clock or the position of the sun. They have no real need for a clock here. No one is on a time constraint.
Reaching a hand out to my left where I know my penguin alarm clock sits watch, my fingers grazes the plastic and I bring the pink mechanism to my face, squinting at where the arrows are pointing. 'Good. I didn't oversleep.'
With mild reluctance and a big heave, I pry myself from the cozy futon, shivering a little when the cooler air of the room hits me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ittan-Momen slipping out from underneath my pillow. Trudging to the bathroom located out back to get ready, a thought flashes through my mind. 'It's going to be hell to get out of bed during the colder seasons.'
…
Breakfast is delivered to my lodgings soon after I wake up and for a split second, I wonder about the time in which the residents usually get up to start on their chores. It sure seems like they are up and about earlier than me. Considering the ever present and abundant Osore in Tōno, whether the sun shows up or not has very little negative impact on the locals' power level. Washing would still need to be done in the mornings, otherwise, their clothes will never dry.
Shovelling rice into my mouth alongside small bites of fish, my mind wanders back to a specific issue in mind. The assassination of a particular Oni and the probability of the mission actually succeeding.
My brain had switched off like how a TV would, turning pitch black and refusing to entertain anymore complex scheming after that nice relaxing soak in the onsen late last night. So I had no choice but to leave figuring out Nenekirimaru's location and the other finer details for today's me.
I squint thoughtfully at the plain wall, chewing quickly. The pros are easy and simple to come up with. We won't have to deal with him in Kyōto, not to mention it would save us a heck of a time and effort. There will be one less stress-inducing hurdle for me during the war as well, freeing up any spare energy I may have left to focus on other pressing matters.
Now, for the cons. Let's say I didn't manage to kill him even if I had Nenekirimaru and my brother's help. Sunny and Gyōza are forced to reveal themselves in order to save our asses. Kidōmaru becomes privy to all of my trump cards, heading straight back to report to the fox of the juicy tidbits, allowing our opposing force to have mental preparation against me. Of course, that is if he doesn't take this chance to drag me back to Kyōto first. Based on our last encounter, Hagoromo Gitsune had probably placed an order to retrieve me for whatever reason.
Worst case scenario. He manages to kill us siblings, leaving the Nura Clan truly with zero heirs and everyone dies. End of story.
Second worst case scenario. He steals Nenekirimaru or destroys it. Without the blade, I die, Rikuo dies, the Keikain Clan and the Nura Clan get wiped out, then, for training slash siding with us, the Tōno yōkai will also be exterminated. Meanwhile, Hagoromo Gitsune will be laughing that fox laugh of hers, knowing that victory is secured.
I shudder, shaking away the disturbing train of thought. '… Guess that means the best thing for us right now is to avoid running into them at all.'
In order to fine-tune my general control over water, Amezō suggests I help out with the laundry and leads me to where my brother is currently slaving away on the riverbank. I am eager to begin. Emerging from within the shadowy, overgrown vegetation and directly under the sun, I squint at the sudden change in brightness, blinking a few times as my eyes adjust.
Mornings are relatively quiet around these parts. The washing area is some distance away from all of Tōno's training grounds, so the only sounds I can hear in the immediate vicinity are the happy chirping from the birds and the soft, rhythmic babbling river as our background music.
I immediately spot Rikuo squatting by the river, manually going through the mountainous pile of laundry one by one, working up a foam on the clothes against the comparably small washboard. Truly, a rare sight. On his right, lay a limp sack of dwindling dirty laundry while on his other side, is a huge pile of dripping wet clothes, freshly cleaned. Looks like he is nearly done, there is just about a handful left.
It takes some getting used to seeing my brother's night form this early in the morning, despite it being the second day. I carefully pick my way down the slippery moss covered rocks, following after the Numa-Kappa—who is having a much easier time navigating the hazardous terrain—huddling further into my red scarf, noting the smattering spray of cold vapour in the air as I drew closer to the river.
"Oi, Rikuo!" Amezō raises a webbed claw in greeting as he lands on the rocky bank, the loose rocks clacking and shifting beneath his weight.
"Looking great." I snark at my brother, smiling extra sweetly, eyeing his long, gravity-defying hair bobbing gently in the same rhythm as the scrubbing motion, itching to just reach out and slap him up across the head.
Rikuo gives me a suspicious side eye before greeting Amezō with an upward nod of his head and a sound of affirmation, his arms never once pausing from the tedious chore.
"Rikuo, once you're done with that, hand it over to Retsu to practice on." Amezō points at the article of clothing he has in his grasp.
Crimson eyes flicker down before nodding. "Oh, okay."
I tie back my sleeves to my elbows and stand a little further upstream from where my brother is kneeling. Making a sweeping motion, a small portion of the river water deviates from its natural current and carries the fabric over to my side to rinse out.
So far, I've used my water manipulation ability in both offensive and defensive manners, which requires speed and force. Now, I have to learn how to use it delicately.
When I fished my brother out from the pond in our garden, I was rather shaky with my technique, and worried that I would accidentally crush something or fracture a bone. That will not do when I potentially need to move someone—maybe even myself—out of harm's way within a split second.
Laundry is a pretty good way to start.
From his peripheral vision, Rikuo watches the scene unfolding about two paces away beside him with mild fascination.
His little sister is standing in a loose stance, her hands moving about in circular motions. A portion of the water within the flowing river responds in kind, forming a small whirlpool liken to a washing machine. The soap in the linen washes away easily, and she doesn't even have to dip her hands into the cold water like he did. With a twisting action, water is squeezed out from the clothes, the clear liquid returning back into the river.
It's almost like watching invisible arms at work.
Retsu is a little more snarky with her words lately, but he can sense it seems to be in a light-hearted manner, or at least, an attempt to do so. He doesn't quite know what brought on this change. Perhaps it's simply her way of trying out a method to best communicate with him. The conversations they had are still somewhat stiff, however, it has seen drastic improvements since their reunion last year.
After arriving in Tōno, she has become a bit more expressive, a tad more animated when conversing with the residents—it is not a very obvious change, but it's enough for him to pick up on it— as though she is hanging out with friends while going through intensive training. Usually she has about less than five expressions to spare on a weekly basis—a little more if they're lucky. He has an inkling suspicion that she's only relaxed when mingling with her group.
During training however, she's focused, vicious, and everything else he'd seen before during their sparring sessions, all except for that one additional thing. Tension. He believes it's looming pressure. Out of immediate sight, but creeping closer and closer. Sometimes, when he's alone with no distractions to keep his thoughts at bay, it sneaks up on him, coming back to the forefront of his consciousness and weighing him down.
Rikuo immediately brushes it off. He does not have time for that, he has chores to do and the sooner he completes them, the faster he can head towards the training grounds. Since the Tōno group wouldn't allow him anywhere near the arena before he's done with his apprentice chores. Although, he can't help the building anxiousness and impatience the longer he spends slaving away doing chores.
Shouldn't he be getting stronger as fast as he possibly could? There's still so many battle techniques he has yet to learn and practice. Retsu is practicing here while also completing chores, and he's only managed to accomplish the latter.
He shakes his head again, and the pesky thoughts are physically flung out of his mind. More importantly, he should try activating Offense Osore. Problem is, how does he trigger it? He frowns in bewilderment. 'She mentioned switch.'
No matter how much he tries, he just couldn't grasp nor find the 'switch'. Retsu never gave him any hints either, since she wanted him to master Kyōka Suigetsu first, but now that Itaku has given the okay and his little sister has also agreed… Oh right, she agreed. He swivels his head to face his sibling. "How do you activate Offense Osore?"
The resulting side stare Retsu gives him is so dry, it could shrivel up a pond within a second. He holds his ground and tries not to show his grimace.
"...One hint?"
Her unimpressed gaze does not waver.
"For my early birthday present?" He tries harder, knowing it is probably a long shot, but who knows, his younger sister has weird leniency sometimes. He just has to blindly poke around for the right buttons while praying he doesn't accidentally set off a bear-trap and lose his finger.
She finally turns away, and he had a feeling she just withheld from rolling her eyes.
"We have a core, kinda like where our youki is stored or originates from. One is calm, the other is volatile. Former is defense, and the latter offense. Only one is ever active at a time, just flip their positions. Bring forth the volatile energy and move the calm one to the back."
He blinks, turning back to the laundry and watching the suds clinging to the clothes get carried away down the flowing stream, silver brows drawn together. 'Core.'
"So… where is it?"
"Somewhere in our torso? Chest area? It's not actually tangible, so I can't say where exactly it is." She shrugs. "You gotta look for it yourself."
Rikuo hums back a reply, falling into a contemplative silence. He has some clues now at least. 'Sense huh?'
Once Rikuo is done with his morning chores, he slinks off towards the training grounds where the rest of the group is already gathered. Meanwhile, Amezō ushers me towards the river to begin our impromptu swimming lesson. Or in his words, how to traverse the water body quickly and with ease.
Taking a tentative dip into the fairly mild currents, clothes and all, Sunny suddenly seems to take pity on my shrivelling lungs, emitting extra heat from the middle of my back. The cold temperature became a lot more tolerable as I doggy-paddle for a few seconds before deciding it is too slow, and switch to the frog-style swimming. Keeping my head above water as I try my best to keep up with Amezō's quickly retreating green turtle shell as he heads into deeper waters.
The torrents are mild, for starters, there isn't quite a need to dump me into rapid torrents and have me fend for my life just yet. Most water type battles that take place on land have a very limited amount of liquid available, so as long as I steer clear of formidable water type opponents with more water in their vicinity than we know what to do with, I shouldn't have the issue of needing to swim, let alone get swept away.
I won't drown, Gyōza will not allow that, and also, it would be hella embarrassing for a Nurarihyon—who supposedly came from the sea—to meet their untimely death in water. Fighting well or hiding underwater is not much of an issue for our demon counterparts, so no issues there.
Amezō floats languidly around me, acting much like how Kappa back home would whenever I take a dip in the pond. A silent lifeguard for just in case, while he lets me figure out some things on my own first.
It is not long until I settle on breaststroke, as I feel the motions are best for incorporating my water control, for now. Hands outstretched to my front, I pull the water currents apart to make way, while simultaneously propelling myself forward on the downwards scoop, legs together and kicking. I swim a couple laps around the area, fascinated at the speed I can now swim at. It wasn't much, I can maybe cover the same distance as a frantic duck paddling full speed across the water surface—taking my body size versus the aforementioned avian's into account. Nonetheless, my swimming instructor seems pretty satisfied.
"Not bad, not bad. But I still think you can be faster." Amezō nods, his head bobbing up and down above the water's surface, a grin spreading across his face. His body is all wriggly with the currents, it feels like looking into one of those fun mirrors in the amusement parks. "Let's play tag~ Try not to get caught!"
"Go a little easy please. I'm still in my human form." I gently remind him, treading the water to keep my head above. Although, worst comes worst, Gyōza will probably take over and get me out, if Amezō didn't beat them to it first.
"Alrighty."
A brief game of tag ensues.
The moment I see Amezō's green form barreling at me at a frightening speed beneath the glistening surface, my fight and flight instincts kick in. My arm lashes out in an offensive palm-strike move, however, instead of the water jet hitting the Numa-Kappa and slowing him down, my entire body is forced backwards and out of his immediate capture range when he guards.
My eyes lit up. 'So I can use it that way. Good to know.'
I spam the same method to escape his webbed claws again and again, while leaving behind a couple blocks of ice to impede his approach for a few seconds. The moment he gets too near, however, I take a page from Yuki Onna's book and freeze my surroundings. My ice isn't quite as strong nor as formidable as Reira's, so it takes him very little time to break out.
Deeming my current results satisfactory after a while, Amezō pops his head up from the river to glance up at the sky, then beckons me over with a webbed claw. "It's lunchtime, let's go meet up with the others."
"Okay." I followed him back to the riverbank. 'They're quite on time with my meals for yōkai who never had much interaction with humans. Did Ojii-chan mention it? …Nah, it's probably Karasu Tengu.'
…
Itaku… is gradually gaining more and more resemblance to a nagging mother hen. I can almost hear the 'cluck clucks', only thing missing is the feathers and head bobs. The little chick would be none other than my brother. The Kamaitachi is going through Rikuo's ticks and rectifying them at an incredible pace. Since it's a 'learn to guard or drop the bad tick, or I'll relentlessly expose it by hitting there until you get rid of it.' It's late afternoon, and Rikuo no longer sports a handful of his bad ticks anymore.
I sit on the sidelines, behind everyone and safely out of immediate attack range from all the ruckus that is taking place in the arena. Watching my brother and the Kamaitachi's form flitting about through half-lidded eyes, I slowly eat my lunch. Courtesy of Reira and Yukari for delivering my bento here.
"Keep your Osore activated at all times." Itaku reprimands.
A few seconds later, I swallow and call out. "Coat your weapon with Osore for better cleaving."
Subsequently, there is a fumbling attempt and an unglamorous scream echo around the area when the aforementioned plan is thwarted. Strung up high in the air by rough bark stripes, Rikuo leaned his head back and let out a sigh, while Itaku put away his sickles for the time being.
So far, I've been a lot more sneakier than my brother—turning invisible as much as possible and running like my life depended on it—so the Kamaitachi has yet to successfully ensnare me in his net technique.
A break was called. Reira is handing out her handmade honey lemons and everyone flocks to her like bees to nectar. Itaku, on the other hand, makes a beeline straight for me. Hesitating for a second, he quickly decided to settle down near my side, a respectable distance between us. "That blue fire you used before, what was it called?"
"It's called 'Meikyou Shisui Sakura'."
"Is it a skill exclusive to offense Osore?"
I can see Rikuo pricking his ear up to listen in from my peripheral vision and I ponder for a moment, then reply. "Nah, defense Osore has it too, but we need a Sakazuki cup and sake to use it. The concept is, as long as the water surface ripples, the flames won't go out. Although that technique is good for crowd control from a certain distance, it's not too effective against up-close and personal strong opponents, since we need to hold onto the cup."
"So, you just attach the concept of 'Meikyou Shisui Sakura' to your blade while in offense mode?"
"Yep, pretty much." I nod. "I suppose you can call it 'Ougi Meikyō Shisui 'Zan''."
While Itaku ruminates over the information, I begin pushing a bite of my food together with my chopsticks, ready to resume eating once our conversation is done. Mahogany eyes refocuses back onto me. "The 'defense' and 'offense' Osore, how do you switch between them? Also, are there any problems you encountered at the start?"
I had to take a moment to figure out my answer, it's been two years since I first accessed it
"I just flip over the calm and violent part of my 'core' like a coin. Calm is 'defense', violent is 'offense'. As for problems…" I trail off, brows furrowed in thought. "The switch itself was initially hard, since it takes up quite an amount of concentration just to locate our 'core', not to mention having to swap the two sides. But once I've done it, it's easier the next time around, after that, it's just practicing until I can swiftly change during mid-battle. …There is still a brief lull between the switch though. Depending on whether we are in top form or not, the timing may range from a couple seconds to a quarter of a minute."
"Alright." Itaku inclines in head in acknowledgement and gets up, leaving me to return to my meal.
Lunchtime came and went. Amezō and I resume our training session, running through some standard defensive drills we skipped over earlier. Redirecting, blocking and parting hydro attacks thrown my way. The idea is repeating the motions till it becomes second nature. It wasn't long before a suggestion I didn't even know I had to dread came out from the left field.
"Let's go diving!" Amezō chirps. The yōkai is quick to turn around, swiftly submering under the currents like a submarine. Leaving me to stand waist-deep in the river, contemplating life.
I look up at the sky, exhaling through my nose. '... I am not diving into the sewers of Kyōto. Ibaraki can shoot all the lighting he wants at me.'
Demon me have very little things to worry about, however, human me have very real reasons to be concerned. Like how to survive without breathing for an extended period of time underwater for example. 'I obviously cannot pull a mudskipper-extraordinaire and breathe through non-existing gills. So… how? Submarine in the form of an air bubble?'
After some trial and error, nearly choking on river water that tastes a touch on the fishy side, Amezō making free entertainment out of me, I eventually manage to maintain a fragile looking air bubble around my head. The water here is pretty clear and not too deep, add on to the fact that it is midday, there isn't too much of an issue getting around visually. The bedrocks are practically glistening. One problem however, is that underwater, apart from the constant gurgling of flowing water, everything is actually rather loud. Echoing, to be precise.
I keep close to the rocky bottom, the stones smoothed out from years and years of erosion, pitifully lagging behind the Numakappa as he swims around gracefully. Occasionally, I spot a couple colourful stones, but there's this particularly oval shaped grey one that's very pleasing to the eyes, so I grab that one and shove it into my inner pocket to take home.
It would make a very nice paperweight.
…
The strain in my head is worser this time. Fatigue chips away at my composure and patience, my face gradually slipping into a subconscious scowl as my emotions claw their way to the surface. Although the water feels lukewarm thanks to a certain portable heater, I am getting tired after hours of swimming and diving.
A couple more minutes of persisting pain in my head that is more annoying than anything, I had to tell Amezō to call it a day for now. Once I clamber my way up to shore, I pull out the liquid in my water-logged clothes with a flick of my wrist, and in no time at all, I am dry. Waving Ittan-Momen over, I have the Tsukumogami take me to Atagoya first, needing a small sweet snack to up the lowered sugar level in my system and alleviate the pressure in my head.
The cloth yōkai then ferries me back to our lodgings just in time for my afternoon nap. I knock out the moment I settle beneath the covers, vaguely sensing the cloth yōkai curling up somewhere over my head before it's hello darkness my old friend.
With the last of the sun's rays disappearing over the horizon, the ancient forest where Tōno no Sato had made their home is pretty much pitch black, the swathing mist feeling a whole lot more tangible. My transformation into a demon allows me night vision, although, it is still to a lesser extent as compared to certain beast type demons. I can see the expression on Awashima just fine though. The Amanojaku is only a little too gleeful at the plausible prospect of finally being able to bat me around in a duel of pure physical combat, but I didn't make it too easy for her either.
Making full use of my petite size and small build, I duck, weave and redirect her attacks while aiming low, and I do mean low. I brought a whole new definition to the word 'ankle-biter', transcending to a plane of absolute nightmares that would plague even the toughest of Ayakashi for a few centuries at the very least.
Which results in the Amanojaku barely having any steady foothold as she has to practically perform a fast-paced Tinikling dance to avoid my changeable katana and it's sheathe. Unglamorous yelps escaping her when I manage to—albeit very rarely—hit her legs with the wooden sheathe. She is paying extra attention to the katana, careful not to be hit by it, which in turn, makes her sometimes miss the sheathe coming straight for her shin.
"Ow! Fuuu—"
Both Rikuo and Dohiko winces from the sidelines, while Reira, Yukari and Amezō—who is laying on his stomach—watches on with morbid fascination as I chase the blonde around with my weapons sweeping the floor, preventing her from landing long enough to make a higher leap or launch a good attack.
"Oof." The Numa-Kappa grimaces, Dohiko seconding him.
However, I have to hand it to Awashima, since it takes her less than a minute to get used to the strikes.
"You're underestimating me too much! Heheh!" She taunts with a growing grin on her face, adjusting and actually keeping up with the tempo of my rapid sweeps. "The maiden, Awashima, dances like a heavenly nymph!"
With that, she leaps higher into the air—despite the fact that the surface and timing of her footing exceeds no more than what I first allowed her. She must have gathered her momentum from the other steps before this.
Osore congregates upon her blade, and the world around us begins to simmer in various shades of pink, confetti and glitter. I lower my eyelids, training my gaze onto the ground to prevent myself from being distracted. However, I can still feel an unexplainable urge to look at what must be a mesmerising scene. So I pictured my own severed head rolling on the ground should I look.
Nothing more sobering than a potential gruesome death.
"Hatsu. Dance of the Battle Maiden— Oi! Look at me!" She sputters indignantly.
With a malicious grin on my face, gaze still fixated firmly upon the ground, I return in kind with Offense Osore.
"Oh shoo—"
A resounding 'boom' echoes across the training grounds along with a shriek and clouds of dust.
"I thought I said only physical combat this time." Itaku growls in mild annoyance from the sidelines, and I did not hesitate to throw my sparring partner under the bus.
"Awashima started it."
"I… forgot." A groan left her throat, as she rub her sore back. "My bad!"
…
Hand-to-hand combat, along with weapons handling with Kubinashi and Kurotabō had been mostly instructional and experimental. I was taught correct postures for dealing optimal damage, finding a more suitable type of fighting style for me and ridding less than ideal habits. It was easy. The two teachers were almost always on the defensive side when we spar anyway, much to my mounting irritation. I know they're holding back, given the sheer gap in difficulty levels when compared with my previous survival training in Kyōto.
They are good teachers, they did their jobs and imported as much basic knowledge as they could within a short period of time. Honestly, I've learnt more from them than I did with Kidōmaru and his brother—those two were half-assing their jobs anyway, they don't need me to be that good—but our subordinates were too careful. They've never truly once gone on the offensive, and it is my ass that is currently paying for it.
Itaku had one job and from the looks of things, he has zero intentions on half-assing it.
Each swipe of his sickles slices through the air with a sharp whoosh, tail ends of the well-maintained blades tearing into my clothes and skin with laughable ease. The force from his blows reverberates and lingers in my bones for quite some time even after my painstaking attempts at diverting them, preventing any from hitting my vital parts. The screeching of metal against metal an unwelcome sound to my ears, making me grimace.
I finally made the mistake of blocking one of his attacks head on. My arm gives.
If it wasn't for my abnormally fast reflexes to lean back, the sickle would have probably sliced into my face. The sharp end did make a bloody line straight down my front though, the injury only shallow because Itaku drew back.
The blow is too fast to feel any immediate pain, but my left wrist is throbbing like a mother of hades. I think I pulled something in it.
There is no crippling terror and bad injuries like with my first two teachers, but it wasn't easy enough to feel some level of irritation that they aren't giving the best difficulty level that I need. Itaku's training style is almost exactly what I wanted from the Nura Clan. As real of a sparring session as possible without killing or severely injuring me.
I am so glad that I came here.
Withholding the bloodthirsty grin from bubbling up to the surface, I threw out many more feints, more than what I used against Awashima, in hopes of landing even one hit on him.
Propelling myself straight towards him, I swing my blade outwards in an arc in hopes of catching him across the front. Just as he moves back, arms bracing in preparation to push my blade up and above him should I elongate it, I dropped my sword mid-swing.
Itaku's eyes follow my empty right hand for a split moment—his brain is marginally slower in connecting the information, but not for long at all—while my left hand catches the handle of the falling katana. Sliding one foot forward, I thrust the blade towards him in a fast piercing stance just as his gaze flicks to my other hand.
The tip of Honjo Masamune cuts into Itaku's side when I elongate it just a little, slashing through the dark blue clothing he dons.
My right hand free, I draw the mist around us and attempt to freeze him to the ground by the ankles, however, the Kamaitachi is quick to dart away the moment he picks up the sound of congregating water. I still manage to make an ice block out of one of his ankles as he is fleeing.
With his movements marginally impeded while mid-air, I quickly close in. Both hands grabbing onto my katana for another piercing strike.
He swings one sickle down, barely flinching when the comparably feeble ice shatters into tiny little shards, while the other hooks around my blade in a flash and rips my sword right out of my tight grasp.
Ignoring my weapon, I duck lower, going straight for his exposed side, aiming at his thigh and knee. I hit that one point where I know will hurt like a bitch. Zen made sure to show and tell me where some of the few vital pressure points are, and what better way to learn than to experiment on my own body.
It had been hellish.
I draw back my hand and retreat before Itaku can take my arm off. While he is distracted with the sudden lightening bolt of pain in his leg and subsequent numbness, I hurriedly take the chance to retrieve my sword. I'm still not winning in close combat anytime soon, best have my trusty weapon on hand. My water manipulation is not quite good enough yet to be heavily relied upon.
From that point on, I did my absolute best with utilising unpredictable swordplay. I aim low, mostly engaging him in a kneeling or squatting position—nearly on all fours at times, I found out that it is easier to change directions then—and staying as close as I possibly can to his legs, his weight now favouring one over the other. His brow lifts slightly but says nothing.
Itaku isn't built like a tank nor is he too tall. Nimble and lethal, he strikes fast with precision and power. Which makes my attempt at aiming low almost laughable at best, judging from the furrow between his brows and the way his stance shifts a little lower, his steps lighter to better escape my swinging blade. I only succeeded in annoying him, what really irks him however, is his now numb right leg dragging a little on the ground, sending jolts of pain up to his brain with each movement.
Pretty sure it feels like there's a whole colony of ants crawling all over his leg.
Although the tactic of aiming low may have worked on Awashima and sometimes Amezō, however, Dohiko and Itaku are a whole other story. Apes and weasels are extremely agile, and the latter is known to be capable of hunting prey larger than themselves, which explains where all of his strength came from. Not to mention his on-point instincts.
For us of Nurarihyon's bloodline, he is one of our natural enemies.
Itaku blocks my roundhouse kick, swiftly grabbing ahold of my foot before spinning around and throwing me away. My body twists mid-throw, executing somersaults to lessen the impact and as gracefully as I could, land on my feet. I immediately dodge when twin sickles come slashing down at me. He closes the distance, a flurry of relentless attacks raining upon me one after another.
Annoying clangs of metal meeting metal rings sharply throughout the arena, I couldn't fully keep up with the speed, earning a couple nicks here and there. It's taking a lot just to redirect his weapon away from my vitals, and that is with one of his leg out of commission. My stamina is running low, not to mention a slight pressure is building in my head from attempting to mentally stay a couple steps ahead of my opponent for so long.
A sickle is suddenly right in front of my face.
My knees hit the ground and I lean back as far as I can, until I can feel the back of my head brushing against the ground. The weapon sails over my face, and I see my eyes reflecting upon the gleaming surface, before Itaku is bringing down both of his sickles.
Pushing off the ground with my right leg, I roll away just as the curved blades lodge themselves into the wooden ground, taking off a couple strands of my long black hair. Halfway attempting to put more distance between us, Itaku dislodges his weapons and straight on tackles me to the ground.
I grit my teeth and brace for the impact of my back hitting the floor, bringing my blade up at the last second to meet his duo ones. Immediately upon impact, I push his blades up and above my head with everything I have, and they dig into the wood with a dull thud. Drawing both my legs up, I kick out at him, but Itaku already relinquishes his hold on one of his sickles, swiftly capturing and pinning my legs to his side.
He reaches back with his other hand to draw another blade and I hurriedly shrunk Masamune, just managing to bring my blade across his front while a gleaming sickle stops just a breath away from my neck, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of my cheek.
Slowly, we both draw back our weapons.
Rikuo blinks owlishly from the sidelines, witnessing his little sister pinned down for the first time.
"You tend to draw back after executing consecutive attacks." Itaku says, sheathing his third weapon before going around me to retrieve the other two sickles lodged into the ground. "Keep attacking, do not let up."
I huff, giving a noncommittal hum, a little winded both physically and mentally. There is no good answer to reply the Kamaitachi with, nor is he seeking one that isn't a 'yes.' Running low on stamina is hardly an excuse, especially with my life—potentially others that would try to protect me—on the line. Placing both hands onto the ground to push myself up, I feel a dull pain travel up from my palms, along with the sensation of touching something wet. I glance down.
Specks of blood smears the wood, the coppery scent finally hitting my nose. I flip my hands over, finding the blood came from some open calluses on my palms. Must have gotten it from redirecting Itaku's hard strikes.
The Kamaitachi takes one look and turns away. "Wrap them up."
After the training session is over, everyone scurries off to take a nice, relaxing soak in the hot springs for our sore muscles before bed. I too, follow their example as well. Perhaps because the day had been long and tiring, I nodded off in the onsen and inhaled some of the water, resulting in a series of rather unglamorous, lung-hacking coughs. I am completely wide awake for some time afterwards.
Which brings me to where I am now, lying beneath the futon and staring up at the dark wood ceiling. Drowsiness however, is gradually returning after the adrenaline of almost drowning retreats. I feel myself relaxing as the comforting warmth of the futon and irori fuels my sleepiness. My eyes slide close, before I blink them open again. 'Kidōmaru is due to arrive any day now. …But which day? Tomorrow? Or is it the day after?'
A vague memory of Rikuo briefly engaging the Kyōto demons underneath the rays of the sun plays in my mind. 'Was in the morning… or was it near sunset?'
'I think… I should wake up earlier tomorrow… just in case… …' Blinking languidly once, twice, my eyes eventually slips close, vaguely feeling like I had forgotten something important.
Little by little.
Bit by bit.
I leaned and pushed at the cold, wrong, uncomfortable, black murky barrier. It recedes at a snail's pace, centimetre by centimetre.
Slowly, but surely.
The only marking of the passage of time is the red eyed baby girl growing at an astounding rate right within my arms.
She must have been nine or so by now, getting heavier and bigger. Still, she clings to me tightly like an overgrown koala. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that I cannot put her down. It would not be good for her. She blinks at me, and while her gaze was unnerving initially, I've gotten used to it by now. Instead, it's reassuring.
I smiled at her and kept prodding at the black wall.
Bit by bit.
Little by little.
I kept pushing.
…
The baby has to return there. Back to that ancient Sakura tree I had slept beneath.
Otherwise… things will not end well for her.
Faint sunlight peeks in through the shōji lining one side of the room, signalling the third day of my stay in Tōno no Sato. I huff out a mildly irritated breath when I wake, knowing I had that weird and unexplainable dream about the red eyed baby again, and it's even a continuing series. Joy. Reaching a hand out from underneath the cozy covers, I blindly feel for my clock and dragging it towards my face so I can squint at it. 'Oh, it's already eight.'
My eyes slides close once again.
'…Wait a second.' I bolt upright from the bed, urgency gripping at my heart and throat as I stare hard at the face of the clock.
I did not set the alarm.
I did not set the alarm and I was supposed to wake up a little earlier!
With a flick of my wrist, I bolt out from under the covers, heading straight for the door. Scenarios and questions racing through my mind in a blur, the first and foremost being—
'Is Rikuo dead? Did he encounter Kidōmaru already? Was it today?'
It would be the biggest and sickest joke of the millennia, of how "my brother—our clan's one and only hope—got killed all because I overslept". Ha.
The warmth that bursts forth from the middle of my back is hotter than what I've ever sensed before, and it feels comforting. I pause mid-step towards the door, taking a moment to calm my racing heart and thoughts. '… Right. Sunny would have alerted me if my brother's life is being threatened. The fact that the Tochigami didn't means…'
I let out a sigh, shoulders slumping. 'Rikuo is likely still alive and kicking.'
Plus, I would know if he died though, right? Yōkai have impeccable sixth sense. The fact that I slept so well must mean everything is fine, right? The Tōno yōkai would have to inform me if something actually happened to Rikuo. No one is at my door. Kidōmaru may not have even paid the village a visit yet.
Also, Rikuo has the entire Tōno gang as his bodyguards, Itaku being the sharpest and strongest. If anything happens that even they can't handle, then there honestly isn't a whole lot I could help with. Not to mention he has both Meikyō Shisui and Kyōka Suigetsu under his belt, if he can't win a battle, then running is our forte.
My brother is no fool, he won't die so easily.
Mind clearer and emotions calmed for now, I trudge towards the bathroom with slumped shoulders and begin my usual daily routine.
Ittan-Momen flies at a languid pace towards the river, weaving between the humongous trees, the soft rustling of cloth hushed amidst the wind whooshing past my ears. Beneath us, dappled sunlight littering the forest floor blurs together to form a dizzying spell of yellow lights, meshing with the mahogany of overgrown roots and greenery. I huddle a little deeper into my red scarf as the chilly wind sinks its unforgiving claws in, blinking rapidly in hopes of physically keeping the creeping drowsiness at bay. I'd feel more awake once I start our training session, and there is also the added comfort of an eventual nap time.
As we near the ravine, I can gradually hear the whoosh of a sharp axe slicing through the air, a subsequent crack of dry firewood splitting cleanly in half, and the near simultaneous dull thud of the heavy tool hitting the wooden stump. Amezō is sunbathing belly-up on a patch of equally green grass by the river, staring up at the sky seemingly absorbed in deep thought. The Numakappa's positioning is near where the firewood is piled up high, waiting to be manually processed. I spot my brother currently busy at work there.
'He's already done with the laundry?' Either there's less dirty clothes to wash today, or he has gotten better and faster at it.
My eyes narrow into a squint, trying to zero in on his image that much better. He doesn't look that different from yesterday. Although he is sweaty from exertion, with the way he is wiping his forehead with his sleeve, but otherwise, there isn't a single strand of hair nor clothing out of place. Nothing seems to be amiss, except… I tense up, scanning the ravine for clues of a plausible scuffle.
I know that uneasy, yet particular Osore still lingering in the air. An oppressive presence, faded due to the caster having left the area quite some time ago. It is nearly impossible to forget this feeling, since I have been on the receiving end multiple times. However, there had been only one occasion where it actually harbours full intention to nearly murder me. This sensation matches our last encounter, before Ojii-chan brought me home.
He's been through here.
I see some shards of ice still in the long arduous process of melting beneath the sun. Signs of combat literally carved into the rocks and boulders near where I know is the washing area. Dust and debris are kicked up here and there, the impact points looking awfully similar to Gyūriki's aggressive, head-on attacks.
My eyes flick back towards Rikuo, who looks up upon sensing my sharper than usual gaze, arching a fine silver brow in a silent question. He's a little more solemn today. A given, considering who the heck he ran into this early in the day. I bob my head in a 'sup' gesture, and after a slow blink, he parrot the action right back at me. A small smile graces my face and he returns back to chopping firewood.
The Kidōmaru of this timeline is rather well acquainted with my entry level Offense Osore, and therefore, a little of my ticks and initial combat style—considering the fact that he did indeed teach me, to an extent. He had seen Meikyō Shisui once or twice, but never Kyōka Suigetsu, since I was unable to pull it off back then. I study Rikuo's form, reevaluating his survival capabilities, and relief surfaces.
'Onii-chan made it.' My shoulders relaxes from its tense position that I had subconsciously taken on. At least he stayed alive long enough for help to arrive.
Averting my gaze, I urge Ittan-Momen to move towards Amezō. 'That's one event down without me having to lift a finger. But… I should still keep an eye on his mood.'
"Good morning."
Yellow eyes blink open, and the green yōkai perks up upon seeing me. "Oh hey! Morning!"
Amezō rocks into a sitting position with a 'hup', before swiftly getting up, dusting off his white pants. "Let's pick up where we left off yesterday."
"Okay."
…
Amezō had me go through all of our water manipulation drills, there are zero shortcuts in this department. It is repeat, repeat, and repeat some more. Redirecting attacks, defending, making waves, whirlpools, delicate handling, water bullets, freeze, defrost, swiftly traversing large water bodies, forming an air bubble for diving. Drilling all these motions till it becomes muscle memory.
It is all rather taxing.
Then, for our new agenda of the day, I am to attempt forming ice shards with both speed and efficiency. The ice shards are relatively easy compared to maintaining pressurised water bullets, all I have to do is solidify and throw them to my target. In this case, a stray boulder lying around the riverbank.
However, the problem lies in forming a sharp enough cutting edge on these ice shards. It takes up more concentration and technique than I had anticipated, and if I made a mistake during the formation process, I'd have chunky ice blocks instead of ice that are sharp enough to be used as scalpels. … On second thought, thick ice blocks could still cause serious concussion if aimed at the correct spot…
The sun is directly above us when I try my hand at utilising a water whip, under Amezō's suggestion and watchful guidance. One more new technique to learn for the day before lunchtime, so the Numakappa says.
…
I watch from the sidelines as my brother spars against Awashima, slowly eating my lunch, and wincing with each throbbing pain.
Reira is nice enough to keep her ice cold hand on my burning cheek after we got here, nursing the nasty bruise after I stupidly gave myself a whiplash with my own technique. Upon my arrival and learning what exactly went down to earn a red and swollen cheek, Yukari held back a small giggle, but her eyes gave her amusement away. Awashima and Dohiko however, outright snicker-snorted into my face, much to my chagrin.
The sounds of metallic blade and wooden practice sword crossing reverberates around the arena. I notice that my brother's attacks are a touch more aggressive than yesterday. I could only hazard a guess on why. He must have sensed firsthand the gap between an executive level Kyōto yōkai and himself. It must be rather unsettling.
'Still.' I cast a cursory glance at the Tōno gang. 'It is a little odd that no one mentioned my brother's near death experience to me.'
Since they did not bring it up, I suppose the least I could do is play along. It'd be awkward if they didn't know how to react nor breach that sensitive subject, unknowing of my own reaction. Guess I'll just leave it.
It was not long before Awashima switches out with Dohiko, and now Rikuo is up against the grinning ape yōkai. I perk up, having just recalled something I've been meaning to ask for a while. Turning to Itaku and Awashima, I ask. "I have a question."
Multiple pairs of eyes glance over at me then, except for Amezō, who is still acting as the referee. Upon seeing that I am only focused on two beings in particular, both Reira and Yukari go back to overlooking the arena. Itaku, on the other hand, lends me his ear while still keeping his sight on my brother.
"I noticed my blades keep breaking when I attached Offense Osore to them. They can't be used after three or four fully charged attacks. I saw you guys attaching Osore to your weapons, how come your blades don't break? Is there a problem with my control or...?"
Upon hearing that, Itaku turns to face me, the look of his face unreadable sans a slight furrow to his brows. Meanwhile, Awashima shoots a discreet side-stare to the other, sporting a mildly stupefied expression. Calm mahogany eyes flicks over to where a shrunken version of Honjo Masamune lay within my right kimono sleeve.
The Kamaitachi considers his answer. "… If you 'attach' Osore to a perfectly flawless blade, that blade would surely break. What I did was 'coat' a layer of Osore onto my sickles to make them sharper, not 'attach' Osore to them. Those are two separate techniques."
'Oh. That means… I have no way of not breaking any normal swords if I continue to use Offense Osore then… damn.' A huff of disappointment leave my lips, deflating a little. "Guess I'll just have to keep a backup stock of katana then."
The Kamaitachi's frowns and I find his reaction vaguely odd, but otherwise, didn't question him. He gestures to my katana. "You already have that special sword, that alone is fine, isn't it?"
"I wield dual-blades on occasion, so I can attack twice as fast." I reply without missing a beat.
"Wait, really?" Awashima pipes up.
Itaku blinks, his gaze sharpening. "Do you wield one or two blades more often?"
"Currently, one. Since apart from this katana, the rest all got destroyed after a few swings."
"Who taught you how to attach Osore to your weapon?"
"I taught myself." I said, before sending the Kamaitachi a wary look. "…Why?"
Itaku refocuses his attention back onto the mock battle at hand. "… Nevermind then."
The Amanojaku however, wasn't one to let it off that easily, surprise in his tone of voice when he asks. "You learnt it on your own?"
"That I know of. …Is something the matter?" Technically, I did teach myself how to use it, but I referenced it from the manga Rikuo.
"Attaching Osore is an advanced technique, coating Osore is the first level. Usually someone more experienced would impart that technique, but since you learnt it on your own… Not bad at all!" Awashima grins happily, raising a hand in preparation to slap me on the back. He halts, remembering I'm not quite as durable at the moment and settled for a comparatively light pat instead.
"Oh." I blink before shrugging. "Thanks?"
"Which reminds me." Amezō pipes up from his referee position. "How long has it been since you learnt it? The Offense Osore thing I mean. It's the third day and Rikuo is still having a hard time grasping it."
I take a moment to consider my answer before replying. "I had nearly two years of training."
Recalling my own little self-taught lessons, however, I was quick to correct myself. "Kind of. Onii-chan just started officially training three months ago."
"Eh?" The Numakappa snaps his head over to my direction, his mouth gaping in shock.
"Seriously? How come?" Awashima questions, his eyes wide.
"For me, it was due to circumstances. As for him, he was having an existential crisis. Just recently pulled himself together enough for us to really begin hammering some basics into him, and—" I gesture towards our subject of interest, who, is completely oblivious to our ongoing conversation. "—that... was our best result after two months of basics, and one month of intensive."
Itaku looks at his charge with a mildly flabbergasted expression.
"Existential crisis?" Amezō repeats, arching a non-existent brow, and I nod.
"Yep."
"About what?"
I didn't want to divulge too many unglamorous details about my brother, there is still a certain level of dignity and image he has to keep as the candidate to the Nura Clan head position. So that left—
"I'm not aware of the exact details—" Which I'm not lying about. "—but I'm pretty sure his human and demon personality had been warring for control for a period of time. ...Or something like that."
"And now?" Itaku asks skeptically.
"He resolved it." I shrug, then pause. "I think."
"Was it a Hanyō thing? What about you? Did that happen with you?" Amezō peers at me curiously.
I pause to really consider my answer.
A pair of round and glowing crimson red eyes peers back.
Every single hair along my arms, neck and legs stood on end, causing me to shiver as I blink the sudden mental image away. When I finally replied, however, it sounded weak, even to my own ears.
"I don't know. As far as I'm aware... I've always been the one in charge."
Blue flames arcs through the air with each swipe of my blade, shining brilliantly and beautifully underneath the cover of darkness. The stark contrast in brightness will do wonders in messing with opponents who rely heavily on their sight during combat, unfortunately for me though, this does not include the Tōno gang. However, the blinding light does make it easier for me to subtly set up as many traps beneath our feet as I possibly can.
Gathering the water vapour from the mist each time I am near the ground, I leave small puddles everywhere I went, allowing the fine layer to be absorbed into the excessively large wooden stump, ready to draw them out later for a surprise strike. Since, after all, both Itaku and Amezō had encouraged me extensively to absolutely abuse the hell out of my water manipulation during mock combat. They rather I overuse it than underuse it, and messing up during a crucial time is a big no, no, which made perfect sense.
There is however, a problem I am currently facing. My water control speed is not fast enough to outmanoeuvre any of the Tōno yōkai. Everyone manages to dodge, one way or another, although I did notice that my attempts at least, distracted them for a moment. While I couldn't successfully freeze anyone's ankles to the ground, yet, I can still send the liquid after their foot and make an ice block out of it, like I did with Itaku yesterday.
Spinning to gain momentum, I charge one more Ougi Meikyō Shisui 'Zan', sending it hurtling towards Dohiko's direction. Continuing the exact rotation, I drag the water I had stored beneath me with a twitch of my fingers. Left hand freezing them into three little needles, while my right hand charges up condensed Osore upon my blade, I camouflage the smaller weapons right behind the second wave of jet black strike.
If I can't catch anyone, then I'll just set many traps.
The Futtachi dodges them gracefully, even when I redirect the little ice needles towards him. He merely smashes them with a forceful swing of his arm.
Eventually, one of them is bound to succeed.
Taking the chance that he is momentarily distracted with the needles while landing right above one of my traps, I did not hesitate. With a small twitch of two of my fingers, I bring the water stored under his foot just to the surface and froze it.
I charge forward, prompting Dohiko to leap back and his foot slips on the small sheet of ice. His eyes widen comically at the sudden change in balance.
I close in.
Simultaneously, my left hand pulls more stored puddles situated behind the ape yōkai, while on my right, I condense offense Osore onto my blade once more. I swing my blade out at the same time I pull the water forward, the sharpened edge aiming straight for his back, intending to graze him at the very least.
Awashima calls off the match before both attacks could land.
Dohiko narrowly lands on his butt instead of his back with a muted, "Omph."
I withdrew my blade and reabsorb my Osore, the black smoky energy swirling and settling. Dohiko blinks once, twice, as if having yet to process what just happened for a moment, but soon enough, he regain his senses and a wide grin spreads across his face. "You did it!"
"It worked!" Amezō's holler came from the sidelines, doing fist pumps in his excitement.
"That was awesome!" Awashima yells. "Nice pincer attack!"
It was just a moment ago that I had felt some creeping doubt and hopelessness in my water control, that it couldn't become quite as polished or useful in real combat by the time we are to depart for Kyōto. But now…
A small smile begins to bloom upon my face, an astound, breathless chuckle leaving my lips. "I did it."
My water manipulation can now be used effectively in battle.
…
Next up, my sparring partner is Awashima. The sandy blonde looks at me with a mock-peeve expression when I promptly turn the training arena into an ice-skating rink mid-fight.
I smirk right back, challenging her to dance her way out of this.
…
An hour or so passed before the prickling sensation of an all too familiar Osore shifting into something much more dominant and fierce notifies me long before my sight did. All mock battles upon the practice arena skids to a halt, as heads turn to look at the source of the domineering Osore. I glance over just in time to see Rikuo's gravity-defying silver-black hair drooping to cascade down his back instead. Black ink markings spreads towards the whites of his hair, creeping up along his cheek to frame the underside of his left eye. 'That quickly?'
"So this is Offense Osore." Rikuo says to himself with a small smirk on his lips, eyeing his hands—at the wisps of smokey Osore emitting from his body. His presence now much harder to ignore.
Amezō whistles, his green turtle back turned to me, and I move to stand beside him, our sparring session temporarily on hold. 'I was right.' I muse, sensing the quantity of his youki emitting from his form. 'It's a whole lot more than mine.'
A five years age gap during this growth stage is this big huh.
"Looking wild Rikuo!" Dohiko guffaws, gesturing to his hair, and my brother laughs right back.
Rikuo shifts to look over at me, big satisfied grin in place. He seems to be more expressive in this form, his emotions reflected clearly in his crimson eyes. "So how do you switch back and forth again?"
Without missing a beat, I deadpan. "Same method you got into this mode."
His grin falters a little, and he pulls a face, sounding almost a little whiny. "You're telling me I need to do all of that again?"
"Yes."
"Within three seconds?"
"Better start practicing then."
"Damn." He mutters under his breath.
'No one said it was going to be easy.' I thought, almost pitying him. Switching between offense and defense mode quickly was not a skill mastered within a day. It is only because I had an older mindset and is sensitive towards Osore in general that I was able to pull it off within a certain timeframe. I'm not so sure about Rikuo however. I frown. 'Not to mention… he seems almost cockier in the form. Is the power getting to his head or something?'
"Your personality is really unstable." I comment dryly, squinting at him warily.
"Hah? Your personality is too stable." Rikuo shoots back immediately, and my eye twitches. He even had the audacity to shrug, directing a smirk at me.
Itaku leap down from his perch upon a tree branch just then, landing nimbly on his feet. "Let's see you use offense techniques then."
The Kamaitachi sure didn't waste any time in getting straight down to business. The sparring sessions resumes and I do not have the luxury time to keep tabs on what Rikuo is doing. I have my own hide to look out for against Amezō and then Reira. I do see the telltale blue flames and feel the searing heat on occasion, along with the wild Osore being flung out here and there. Within the span of a few hours, the training arena has seen much better days.
Rikuo tries to switch back to his defense mode every now and then during our small breaks. He can struggle all he wants but to no avail. Itaku wasn't too pleased with his lack progress in the switching thing, staring at the quarter demon judgementally with his arms crossed over his chest. My brother on the other hand, thought I was pulling his leg by downplaying the exact difficulty level.
"How long did you first take to switch between offense and defense again?" Rikuo asks after yet another failed attempt.
"… A minute I guess?" I answer after wracking my brain for the information. He gives me a disbelieving look and I can only shrug helplessly. "You're on your own bud."
"Is it really that hard?" Amezō asks skeptically.
"Certainly feels like it." Rikuo mumbles. "It won't budge."
Dohiko shakes his head. "Won't budge, or are you going about it the wrong way?"
"Retsu made it look easy though." My brother tilts his head back with a sigh.
"It wasn't that easy, but it shouldn't be this hard either." My lip curl into a grimace. "I suppose it is more 'stuck' for you than it is for me?"
Rikuo shoots me a look. "What is that suppose to mean?"
"Like, a gear that is rarely used would be harder to budge right? Because it's not broken in or oiled, so it's harder to turn at first."
"I get it. 'Broken in' is practice... but then what is the 'oil'?"
I get a faraway look in my eyes. "... Switch to Offense mode, or perish."
"So what you're saying is he just needs some incentive right?" Dohiko grins widely, drawing closer towards my brother, cracking his knuckles.
Rikuo takes a wary step back. "Oi, oi—"
"That's right, don't you learn better under pressure, Rikuo~?" Awashima mirriors the other's grin, slinging an arm over his shoulders, successfully trapping the younger one to her side.
"What? Where did you—" He cuts himself off and stiffly turns his head to me.
I shrug. "You do learn better though."
His jaw drops, a look of utter betrayal taking over his face.
"Alright! We just gotta pound it out of you, eh?"
"Let's go!" Dohiko cheers mischievously.
"I— Fine!"
...
By the time we had to call it a day, Rikuo made little to no progress in the mode switching thing. Although the Kamaitachi did make full use of the time the quarter demon spends stuck in Offense mode and drills attack techniques into him. In other words, he made a piñata out of Rikuo, as per my predictions should he go against stronger opponents. It wasn't until after a beauty night's sleep did he finally manage to switch back to defense mode, much to his immense relief. Nasty bruises are not fun to sport on a long term basis.
Finally.
A garden filled with wet, soft grass shrouded by darkness on all sides appears before me. I squint into the depths and see the ancient Sakura tree, its flowers giving off an ethereal glow, illuminating a few meters around it.
Trudging over, I tiredly deposit the red eyed child upon the Sakura tree, where she had literally first rolled off of and directly onto me. She immediately curls into a ball and went to sleep.
The once solid mass of darkness becomes a translucent barrier, and we can now see what's happening outside and not just hear like before. I kept pushing, until a pond is revealed. It glistens, reflecting the faint moon upon its smooth and tranquil surface.
I push more.
A traditional mansion is revealed.
Then, she finally heard me speak.
Author's note:
This chapter had to be one of the hardest to write by far. My motivation for this chapter took a free dive down the marina trench, and it's been hard trying to gain back momentum. It's partially due to major writer's block, shooting myself in the foot by writing long chapters when my memory is not quite like it used to be (no worries, I'm cutting it down a little so that it is more manageable, but otherwise, it shouldn't affect the story), some parts procrastination, getting distracted with games, and some personal issues I don't want to go too deep into. *sigh.*
Anyway, back to topic, much thanks to the lovely reader who caught an issue I've completely forgotten to write in the story. It wasn't until I checked my drafts did I find the missing section. *facepalm* It's about Retsu's memory of the original storyline being vague. She does remember the main arcs and the general gist of what went down, but the finer details… not so much. Due to this, there is slight amendments in chapter 9 and chapter 16.
Thank you all so much for your immense patience, love, encouragement and support! We are now at 577 Favourites and 616 Follows~ I wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! X3
Current members:
•Amefurikozō (Ame)
•Sunekosuri (Neko)
•Tozen (bow Tsukumogami)
•Uwan (the bush)
•Kogane no Gyōza (Koi fish)
•Saki (Flower Ayakashi)
•Fūri (blue fur with leopard patterns)
•Enenra (smoke yōkai)
•Umizatō (the blind one)
-Sazae-oni (clan member)
•Ittan-Momen (cloth Tsukumogami)
•Kameosa (jug Tsukumogami)
•Hidama (small fire bird)
•Yūga (wolf yōkai)
-Kōga [Clan Head, father of Yūga and Ryōga]
-Kiba [childhood friend]
-Ryōga [younger brother]
•Suzu (maneki-neko)
•Kirin (Sunny)
•Kyō (computer-dwelling spirit)
•Menreiki (Gigaku mask Tsukumogami)
•Shizuka (miasma butterfly)
•HoneOnna (bone spirit)
~kirakira_bluemoon