"You can call me Rengoku!"
They had been walking for a while now, and from the position of the sun, it looked around four o'clock. She hummed in acknowledgment, and their footsteps continued to fall at a steady pace.
"What's your name?"
She thought to answer, but closed her mouth, and then opened it again. What was her name? In the few instances Mother would address her directly, she would always call her dear, or child, or something of the sort.
"I don't know."
"Do you not have one?"
Her lips stayed sealed. It had never occurred to her that humans called each other by their names, but of course they would, for how else would they communicate? Twenty years on this earth, and not a day in her life did she spend interacting with humans.
Walking beside them, catching glimpses of them, and hearing their laughter, but only from afar. Her confusion stayed, but amongst it, a silent question was asked. Why didn't Mother give me a name?
"No need to look so down!" She almost told him that she was looking straight ahead and not down, before realizing that wasn't what he meant. "You can just pick a name! Do you have anything you like?"
Anything she liked… Nature was nice, she supposed, and water kept her body from becoming too stiff. Other than that, everything else she could live without. If she had to choose something she truly liked, however…
"...Myself?"
"Hmmm, anything else!?"
She skimmed through her memory, stopping at points where she recalled overhearing a name.
In a field she bypassed four years ago, a man called over his son, whose name was Kenji. Kenji had a body sculpted by the years of labor, with a slight hunch to his back as he tended to the field. His name was simple, but she didn't claim it, choosing instead to move onto another memory.
Under the red of festival lanterns, a mother searched for a child named Miyoko. The beat of thundering drums synched in with the frantic rhythm of her calls. She had followed the woman who eventually found Miyoko, a small girl who had a head of lovely black hair adorned by a simple hairpin. Miyoko's name carried her beauty, but as much as she wanted to claim it for herself, she felt it wrong to even touch it, lest she tarnish the girl's innocence.
She continued floating amidst her thoughts, swaying to the waves her memory created. A foggy scene formed before her, and a haze swallowed her whole.
Rain poured from the skies, trapping the sounds of her footsteps. She remembered the color green among the drops of water falling down. Beneath the sound shelter of lush trees, someone called.
Heiko.
Her memory snapped shut.
She didn't notice she'd stopped walking until he waved at her, and even then, she had trouble recognizing his face.
"Is something the matter?" he asked.
"Oh." How could she forget? Rengoku had the fortune of being born with a face hard to not recognize. Did he choose a name for himself, too?
The process of choosing a name was troublesome, she concluded then, wondering if this is how Mother felt every time she asked a question. Stealing someone else's seemed much easier.
"I'll be called Rengoku too."
He laughed, hair swaying to the tilt of his head. Maple leaves among the flat scenery captured his movements, but his laughter died down once he realized she was serious.
"People usually only share last names in specific circumstances," he said.
"And that would be?"
"Marriage!"
"Then I'll get married."
Shadows of leaves dotted across his face, and as though he didn't laugh just now, he said, in quite a flat tone,
"Do you know what marriage is?"
Did he take her for a fool? Her memory wasn't so bad as to forget something he'd just explained.
"It's a process where you acquire someone's last name."
His silence made her reconsider. She replayed their conversation back, but could see no fault of hers.
"You can keep Rengoku for now," he finally said, "until you find a suitable name. But you still need to choose a first name."
"Kyoujuro—"
"No."
Almost had it. She wondered what it was with names anyway, and why she couldn't steal both his first and last name.
"Then I'll think about it later."
The forest whistled to her, and the rest of the walk stayed relatively silent as Rengoku made most of the small talk and she responded with hums and nods.
"Two rooms, please!"
The clicks of coins echoed against the wooden counter, as the innkeeper spoke in a quiet voice. "It'll be down the hallway to the right. Please enjoy your stay."
She followed Rengoku down the narrow hallway, as he escorted her to her room first. In the middle of the tatami mats lied a square blanket. There was also a rectangular-shaped plush on one end, but besides that, a vase and austere decorations.
"Why is there a blanket in the middle?" she asked.
"It's a futon!" She silently pressed him for more. "It's for sleeping. We'll leave early in the morning tomorrow, but for now, get some rest!"
Sleeping. What a waste of time.
She didn't bother with the futon as she turned off the light. Surveying the scarce flowers in the vase, her hand brushed their petals gently. Even without the light, their scent and shape classified them as tsubaki, a soft flower that bloomed best in spring.
She slid the door open, growing tired of her plain surroundings as she wandered down the hallway. The floor made no sound where she stepped, but sunk down at her weight just the same.
Eventually, she stumbled upon an open porch, giving way to a simple garden. Low hanging trees hung over the narrow garden path lined with stone, and she occupied herself with the scenery for a long while before looking out into the forest.
They were headed in the wrong direction. But Rengoku had not once faltered on their way here, so he should know where they were going. He should, but that wasn't enough for her.
She walked past the small pond, reaching for the loosely closed gate framed by tall bamboo.
"And where might you be going?" The song and dance of crickets and birds masked the echoes of his voice.
A complete change in clothing left Rengoku as conspicuous as can be in a garden dominated by shades of green and black.
A white nightgown draped from his shoulders, loose and more striking than the black uniform he wore before. As ready as he looked to retire for the night, the sword tucked in his belt implied otherwise.
"I am going to check whether or not we are lost," she said, drawing her hand back from pushing open the gate, lest her actions be interpreted wrongly again.
"Lost?"
"We are not going in the right direction towards Oyakata's mansion."
His clothes drained the moonlight, trapping the light within its white silk as he crossed his arms. "And how are you so sure?"
"Because I am the earth," she said, with a tone puzzled by his question. If she had asked him how he knew where his right arm was, he would've reacted the same. If evidence was what he wanted though, then she'll provide, because she had no doubt in her knowledge.
"I can't pinpoint the exact location, but we are to go north from here if we want to reach it in a day. It's concealed by an enchantment, but that only prevents it from being seen, and we can walk through it with ease."
Slowly, she nudged the gate open, taking deliberate steps that were paced and rigid as she left the garden. "I'm going to check for a river two kilometers away."
Stubbornly, he followed her as she lengthened her strides only for him to do the same. They walked in silence the whole way, and though he wasn't beside her, she felt his presence closely trailing behind.
The river flowed gently downstream, reflecting the dark green of the woods around it as birds sung away in hidden nests above. Before she could tell him that she was sure they were lost, he decided to speak for the first time on the way there.
"We are heading towards the Rengoku residence."
"Why?"
"Although I was ordered to be pacifist, I did not expect much cooperation from you, and the original plan was to confine you inside Oyakata-sama's mansion."
"I see." So essentially, if she had decided to be uncooperative, he'd have gone and imprisoned her. It made sense, she supposed, letting the thought fade away. At least now she knew they weren't lost.
A new moon hung above them—a dark sphere reflecting little light—not to mention the countless shadows trapping even the smallest speck of light. It was the perfect night for a demon to begin its hunt.
"Night has fallen long ago, and demons are known to dwell in dark areas such as woods." She pointed towards the inn. "You should head back."
"What about you?"
"They can't smell me, much less sense me, so I will be fine."
"Will you head back with me?"
"I have no need for sleep, and I'd rather do something more productive than sit around in a wooden box with walls."
"I see." She waited for him to turn around. "Unfortunately, I have to take precautions!" Arms crossed, he stood his ground. "I'm sure you understand."
She nodded, sitting down to meditate. Meditating in a room would've been fine, but to truly sort out her energy, being surrounded by nature worked best. The air in her lungs cooled, and the threads of yin appeared before her.
Clouds of dark seeped a river of yin, and energy trickled from her surroundings simultaneously. Icy winds breezed by her, the peace of resting creatures gathered, and the quiet of the night lulled a soft tune.
Yang stayed sleeping as yin swirled through, though as time went on, she felt the presence of yang growing stronger.
Midnight passed swiftly, but the yin around her failed to dwindle. The movements in the forest should have made yang alert, but as she listened, something else interfered. Something unbalanced.
"Your energy is unbalanced," she spoke quietly, taking care to not disturb the flow of yin around her. Rengoku had been sitting behind her for the past three hours, but as brightly as his spirit burned, his eyes grew misty nonetheless.
"You shouldn't push yourself too hard. For humans, going without sleep for even one night can be damaging to your health."
"I'll be fine!" he yelled, generating a cloud of yang around him as the flow became unbalanced once more. The impact of his voice appeared to reinvigorate him, but his energy only lasted for a moment.
She had saved him from death because Mother told of his importance to fighting yin, the corruptor to her mother housed within demons. She saved him to prevent the loss of an important asset, not to weaken him by stealing away his sleep. If Mother saw the sluggish state he would be in tomorrow, she was sure to be reprimanded.
This would simply not do.
Her sword was drawn abruptly as she saw Rengoku jerk, already standing and reaching for his own weapon, but she had the element of surprise on her side. One slash, and the job was done.
"Here." She held out her hand, the one he'd repaired for her this afternoon, and the very one she'd just sliced off. "You can help me repair it next morning, and rest easy, because I cannot leave without my hand."
He stayed frozen as his sword remained at the ready, though it was clear he had no intention of using it. His face was blank, like a patch of untouched land, and she took this opportunity to begin pressing him further.
"The fire within you burns strong, but without kindle, even the brightest flames extinguish. Go back, and keep my hand safe. I will return to collect it in the morning."
He left without a sound, moving ever so slowly as fatigue dripped from the folds of his clothes. Soon the figure of yellow and white disappeared, and she was left to stare at her stump of an arm again.
Perhaps practicing forms one-handed may be helpful in the future.
"Delicious!"
The sound of chopsticks meeting bowls echoed throughout the room as she sat, looking out the neatly framed porch.
Next to her, the beast of a man feasted, on an assortment of vegetables, a platter of natto, and three bowls of rice. She, on the other hand, surrendered all her food to him, only sipping at the green tea from time to time.
Water tasted better, she thought to herself, though tea would hydrate her all the same, so the difference wasn't all that much.
After breakfast, they set back on the road, where she managed to convince him to take a few shortcuts. It'll be shorter this way, she would say while swerving through the twisted grooves of some hidden road, insisting that he follow. It was only after five of these "shortcuts" that he decided to speak up.
"It seems all the roads you've taken are shrouded in shadows! Why is that, exactly!?"
"The sun dries up my skin." She raised an arm for him to see, pointing at the roughening exterior. "It'll crack if it's dry, and then it'll break." She snuck in a question before he could make a comment.
"Don't you feel hot as well?"
"Not at all! Sitting beneath the sun is a great way to recover, and without it, demons would have total jurisdiction over us!"
Even under the tall bamboo, the shade did nothing to lower his temperature, and waves of heat rolled off of him as though he reflected the scorching sun. She thought to make a note of this, as she had no idea if this trait applied solely to him.
"Your body heat is usually high. Is that a side effect of the breath you practice?"
"My body heat is high because I need it to channel my breath more efficiently! Is there such a side effect with your breath!?"
"Not concerning body heat, no." So the breath of flames had no evident drawbacks. If she could learn the breath of flames, then maybe she could repair her own hand. She could even master it, and then Mother's lectures would be no more.
The issue lies with the word if. Her disappointment was fleeting as she surrendered the fantasy.
But under the scattered shade, with the sweltering heat and humidity, she entertained the thought. A breath where one embodied flames, becoming as swift, as compelling, and as dynamic.
"Do you like the breath of flames?" He asked.
"It's very versatile, yes."
"Would you like to learn it!?"
Yes, she thought, but didn't say. Because what would he do then? Offer to teach her? She could have the greatest teacher in the world and still never learn even the first form, not because she lacked talent, but because it was impossible.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I am not human." She had chambers built of clay in place of lungs, a body sculpted to be stronger than bones, and a spirit honed to be impartial. She was balanced, and balance was all she needed.
Then he asked a very strange question. A question so strange that it stirred Mother from her slumber.
"Would you like to be?"
A stray wind cut past her hair, swirling down her shoulders.
"Child." The temperature dropped despite the sun, yet instead of being relieved at the familiar voice, she felt her skin freeze.
"Listen to me," her mother said, in a tone she's never heard before. "You are perfect in every way. From your exterior, a face of complete symmetry, down to the basis of your design. I put careful thought into each part of your body, and I made sure there are no flaws."
She listened carefully as Rengoku waited, disguising her silence as a mask of deep thought.
"You do not need shelter or sustenance, and when in combat you do not tire. You have no need for blinking or sleeping or rest, and every second you can shape to your advantage, while others waste it on trivial matters."
"Humans are complicated beings," she observed.
"Yes, and what have I always told you in the past?"
"I do not need to be complicated."
"Very good."
"Humans are—" she began to respond, but the change in surroundings stopped her.
The green of forest trees were replaced with creme beige, as the ground below her was smooth and not rocky. They had long walked out of the forest, and from the looks of it, they were already in a town. She remembered her incomplete sentence, but by then it was too late.
"Brother!" Beneath a large tiled roof, a boy set aside his broom as he ran towards them, as Kyoujuro opened his arms at the ready.
"I'm back!" Kyoujurou yelled, and squeezed the boy in his embrace. She could already imagine the immense amount of heat being forced onto the poor boy, not to mention how he avoided being crushed in such a strong grip.
Kyoujurou loosened his hold first, heading into the house as he left the door open for them. "I'll go greet father first! Could you make some tea for our guest in the meantime?"
"Of course," his brother replied, and they both watched the red ends of his haori flow behind the tall hallway. "Please follow me, miss."
Trailing behind him, he led her into a well-furnished room. A scroll filled with skillful calligraphy hung above a vase of carefully arranged flowers, and the mats below the room had a soft bounce.
"My name is Rengoku Senjurou," he said, making the tea. "What about you?"
"I am also Rengoku." He stopped dropping the leaves into the pot as he stared. He blinked, and she explained.
"I did not have a name, so I took your brother's." She looked Senjurou over, from his hair identical to his brother's to his hands well-practiced in preparing tea.
"I am still searching for a first name. Could I take yours?"
"Um…" He went on making the tea, though at this point they were only waiting for it to brew, so he resorted to staring at the flowers behind her instead. "I would rather you not…"
"I see." Maybe another time, then.
Outside in the distance, she heard the caw of a crow...and someone yelling. The voice didn't belong to Kyoujurou as it was much deeper, with a rough edge to the words.
Before she could focus on making out the words, however, Senjurou had apparently decided the tea was done sitting, and began to pour her a cup. His sleeve lifted as he angled the pot to pour, and she saw the uncanny color of mud yellow.
"Ow!"
She seized his hand as he flinched, spilling tea all over her lap. What would've been a burn normally went unnoticed as she held him tighter, twisting his arm as she turned it over.
Her eyes didn't lie. Running up his forearm to his shoulder was a long bruise—sickly yellow with a clot of dirty red. A simple fall onto something couldn't cause this, and even if pushed, the force applied would require a large amount of strength.
Strength equivalent to that of a pillar. She wondered.
"It's time for us to depart—" The sliding door opened, as Kyoujurou peered in, a permanent smile on even as he took in the scene before him. Senjurou seemed to freeze. The bruise could only be seen from her perspective, and she held on, since she wasn't done observing.
"Let's calm down, shall we?" Kyoujurou removed her hand easily as Senjurou retreated, quickly ducking down and occupying himself with cleaning the spilled tea.
"I-I'm sorry for your clothes, I'll go get you a new uniform to change into right now!"
"No need." The tea soaked her pants and was absorbed into her skin, which meant she didn't have to drink water for the rest of today. So really, this was a good outcome. "We're going to leave for a meeting?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Then I'll be waiting outside."
She left promptly, expecting Kyoujurou to attempt to console his brother. She heard, however, the rushed footsteps of Senjurou leaving, followed by Kyoujurou's own trailing behind her.
They left the house in silence, save for the creak of the door and gate. Kyoujurou broke the silence first.
"So what happened back there?"
"While he was pouring tea, I saw a bruise stretching from his forearm to his shoulder, and possibly to his back."
Kyoujurou said nothing, his face a mask of stone. She had expected a different expression.
"Kyoujurou," she said suddenly, and he finally blinked a few times, showing the slightest hint of confusion. "Do you hit your brother?"
"No." His response was final, and although he didn't yell, the tone of his voice made clear he had no play in his brother's injuries, though his expression stayed troubled nonetheless.