"My Lord, I failed once more." His forehead slammed into the dirt, old scars aching once more as twigs tore into the worn flesh. "Answers continue to elude me."

"Son." A man hefted his rake behind Gyomei. "Son, that's a rock."

"It doesn't matter." Tears trickled down the bridge of his nose. "For my lord is in my heart, and it is he I apologize to."

He'd taken leave of his Lord earlier in the day to follow a lead, unable to convey his progress in person.

"It's commendable for someone to hold to their faith so strongly." The farmer said warmly. "But you need to make your own way in life, son."

"My lord is a real person." He informed, clapping his hands thrice, and bowing to the image in his heart. "Which perhaps makes such a task unnecessary."

The farmer paused in chewing a bit of plant in confusion. "Your lord is the rock?"

"No." Tears flowed harder. "But it's all I dare face with my failings. Perhaps if I show my regret sincerely enough, Oyakata-sama will understand."

"He won't." The farmer said bluntly.

"He will." Gyomei refuted, slowly standing. "He always does." He cast his eyes to the sky, to see a little corvid passing through the trees, barking its urgency.

No fear, Oyakata-sama. I understand.

"You're an odd one." The farmer said slowly.

"Perhaps." He said. "Let us come to an understanding of the matter in the hereafter."

He slowly drew his axe, letting it ring in the silent breeze. The farmer paused, suddenly focusing on the cold steel.

"Are you going to kill her immediately?"

His mien was steady, but the draw in his voice revealed his exhaustion.

Gyomei turned sightless eyes upon him. He moved like a man twice his stated age. The stress had been cruel to him, as had fate. Gyomei reached, to where he heard the rub of fabric shift in the world, and clapped the man's shoulder.

"Do you wish to mourn."

"I've done nothing but." He croaked.

"Then let us be done with the duty."

Further down the road they walked, the sun warm on his shoulders, until they came to a place from which no wind blew.

The smell began from here. Cloying, teasing his senses, the hints of rosemary and viscera were heady indeed.

He crouched a little, and dug his hands into the soft loam. It have way easily to his blunt fingers, mashing up as he drove his fist in deeper, turning to paste as he kneaded it.

His thumb found them, the shards of splintered bone. Light and porous, they flexed in his gentle grip. His fingers wormed around it, feeling the bite of some foreign weapon where it cut into the material.

He raised his head, listening to the farmer slowly walk up behind him. His breathing was shallower, the trembling in his limbs shuddering through the earth.

Gyomei breathed deeply as he splayed his fingers into the earth, pressing them deeper in, then deeper still, falling to his knees as he took in the battlefield.

Ready

"Where is she." He spoke calmly.

"Ah-head." The farmer's teeth were chattering, emotion forcing quiet groans past his lips. "In my...my old home."

The cottage was dark to his senses. The smell of gore around him was strong, and as he rose to his feet, he felt it cake his knees and legs, the sticky feeling creeping up his thighs.

Clack

His prayer beads rattled as his grip tightened. The sound of bells was once more in the air.

"Your wife - did she wear earrings?"

"I-I gave them to her." He stammered. "Silver, shaped like an Azalea."

The chime drifted, a leaf on a lake, she danced leaving only ripples for him to follow.

"She spoke, did she not?"

What he saw upon Gyomei's face, he would never know, but his voice was quietly trembling as he responded. "She asked me why I was late."

Sane? She's left the hunger phase. I was right to not allow one of the children to try

His head was on a swivel, trying to track the errant sounds.
"When did she kill your family."

The farmer did not speak for a moment. Gyomei felt a thrill of dismay.

"Six years ago."

Intelligent? She's hunting me. The blood was intentional. She knew I was coming. The farmer is in grave danger.

"You should not have come." He said tightly, large body stepping lightly over the leaves.

"I'm sorry." He said hoarsely. "I should've told someone sooner, but I-I couldn't-"

"No." Gyomei placed his hand on the man's head. He only rose to chest-height. "You tried to move on. You succeeded, did you not?"

He felt the man nod.

"Then you were brave to come back. I thank you, for this." He smiled gently. "You have done us a service."

Gyomei turned away from the farmer before he allowed his tears to flow once more. Six years he mourned. Six years the travellers here suffered because we failed to notice the demon.

One step to the side, and the ground beside him exploded. Wincing, he hopped away, frantically trying to hear the sound of her footsteps. Wind whistled, and he ducked as he felt something hot flash past his head. It tugged his head, and he felt the ends of his hair fray.

Mitsuri will be upset

One more flash, but this time, he stepped in, twisting his body, and chambered his leg.

He waited, like that, until he felt the kiss of wind on his bare arms.

Breath of Stone - Rockslide

And crushed. Mulch-like material flew past as he drove his foot in and through, nearly stumbling forward as it gave way.

A quiet gasp echoed, and he withdrew his leg with a wet slurp.

She stumbled back, feet scuffing the earth.

His eyes throbbed. "Farmer, are you alright."

A quiet groan was his response. It would do.

The demon squealed, harsh against his ears, and dashed to the left.

"Please." He spoke gently, standing tall. "Speak of Muzan. I beg you."

The response was naught but gurgles. She'd lost herself. Perhaps she'd given her mind to the instinct long ago, whatever true intellect left used up to allow her husband to escape.

"Then be at peace."

He would not extend her suffering. He drew his blade, and it was silent once more.

Sight was a curious thing. It put lie to his other senses, in a way, made him question what he felt. It was a tool he wielded gracelessly. The blur of movement disoriented him, light blinded him, shadows gnawed at his bones.

Two steps back with his eyes shut, and the world was clear once more.

Grimacing, he opened his lids, forced himself to take in the Impure World once more.

His vision had been taken in the Waking World, but more and more he considered it a blessing. Vision impaired him. It tempted and beguiled and compromised his judgement and actions.

'Eyes, grant us eyes!' They cried, these demons. What did they wish to behold, in this world?

"Hunter."

He did not turn. He could not trust what he saw.

Perhaps Eileen understood this, as she didn't bother moving into his line of sight, standing by his side instead.

"What are you looking at?"

"The sunset." Gyomei replied. She shifted beside him, leather creaking as she craned her head up.

"Ah. Worth watching."

"What do you see?"

She was silent for a moment.

"It's clean." She said, at last. "It's nice to see something that stays beautiful no matter how many days pass."

"See, hm?"

"You're crying." She said absently.

"It's not so strange." He replied.

"It would be, for another."

"I resent it." He spoke honestly, for fear the words would lose themselves. "I am blind in the waking world, but why can vision tempt me so? My heart shook when I beheld the world again, Eileen. I am a poor excuse of a Pillar. I've lost the stability that made me worthy."

He heard her fold her arms, the firm weight of her clothing emphasizing the pull of cloth over her taut biceps.

But she did not speak, for she had no answer. But she stood, and her presence remained welcoming. And so he continued to take in the dipping sun with clear eyes, until the last dregs of light fell past the horizon.

"Gascoigne and Henryk will arrive soon." She spoke at last, and finally turned to move away. "The night grows long Hunter, mind that your heart doesn't waver in battle."

He did not reply, for he had no answer either.

"EILEEN! HURRY!"

The crowfeather hunter tore out of the chapel, rounding the corner to see Henryk carrying a wounded Gascoigne on his back, gasping for breath as he stumbled up the short staircase. Keeping a lookout, she ushered them in silently, watching for followers.

Gyomei looked up, focus broken as Gascoigne slumped against the raised bannister, a panting Henryk cursing the moon, the stars, the trees and every damned man that called himself Father. A vial rolled past, and a quick look at the storage revealed it was the last one. However, Gascoigne was still bleeding, even as the wounds struggled to knit.

It would need some help.

The Overseer murmured a little in his fitful rest as he whipped Henryk's weapons out if the way, and Gyomei felt a pang of regret. They had cost the man his sanctuary. Henryk had the manners, at least, to quiet upon recalling their location, and aided Gyomei as they hefted Gascoigne up the stairs and into a leftover seat. The man's eyes were bloodshot, teeth grit so tight his whole jaw was pale as he held down his bloody shirt.

Gyomei ripped the shirt off, piece by piece, ignoring the way Gascoigne went bloodless. The good Father was a tough man, and the last bits of blood would keep him alive. He had to hurry lest the scent of blood spread. Tossing the cloth to Henryk, who began tearing it to strips, he pulled out the blade of the Hammer, jamming it into the coal flame that burned in the center of the room.

Stirring occasionally, he looked away as the men traded vials of crimson, harsh rebukes forced back from his lips. Instead, he waited for the blade to finally turn a smooth cherry before lifting it from the flame. He nodded in satisfaction; the blade was a smooth one, thick and unornamented. Whirling around, he moved to Gascoigne's side, and trading nods with the man who bit down on a bundle of spare cloth, laid it flat over the wound.

Gascoigne's growls grew bestial as his flesh popped and blistered, pork and bile filling the air, but as the blade drew away the wound was sealed. He had not raised his voice above a whisper.

Henryk moved past him quickly, already winding bandages soaked in bloody concoction over the cooling flesh.

"What happened?!" Eileen hissed, stalking back into Oedon Chapel as the three men worked quickly to clean off the blood. "You said you would speak to them! The goddamn giants are patrolling the streets, what did you do?!"

"They took exception." Gascoigne spat, throat raw. "I knew my reception would be poor, but to go to the extent of making example of us?"

"They are losing manpower." Gyomei said. His beadsclacked in his folded hands. "They need to enforce their authority."

"They can hang." Henryk cursed. "No hunter will dare return to their arms after tonight. Striking down Gascoigne for simply leaving their Order? Madness."

"You think they want us, you wrinkled has-been?" Eileen laughed harshly. "We're already ticking down. How many times has the good Father nearly lost control? How many times has Viola put herself in danger to calm your restless heart? We're liabilities. Threats."

"Should've talked to the Hunters instead." Gascoigne grunted. "They remember."

His eyes drifted, cloudy, and they knew the night had taken its toll on him. Henryk left him, yellow jacket tucked around Gascoigne's body, revealing his own weathered face. The man was aged, wrinkles casting harsh lines in the thin light from the flames.

"I will try again." Gyomei spoke in an undertone as he approached. Eileen's head snapped to him. "Absolutely not." She hissed. "They will never trust a foreigner."

"You trusted me."

"I trusted your vision." She stressed. "Your dream and your information. I did not trust you."

"Do not, you mean." He rebuked mildly. She didn't flinch.

"Is there a reason, you need to go it alone, then?" Henryk grunted quietly. The salt in his beard belied the yet unerring focus in his eyes. For the moment, at least, he remained in control.

But it wasn't enough. He recognized the sickness in their blood from across the bridge, the church could no doubt identify them the same.

"I need information." Gyomei spoke plainly. "I will negotiate a trade; what I know for theirs. Having you by my side will weaken my position."

He slowly stood, dust pouring off the back of his pants, as the two Hunters cast bitter looks out the door where the Church hunters prowled.

"Rest. I will return."