Kogi no Arashi

by kittenflare

The Gods have always played with the mortals of their world. When the Paranormal Investigation Squad disturbs a strange Fire elemental Yokai, it will set in motion something much larger then anything Rikuo Nura has ever come across before. RikuoxTsurara, OC, Rated M for Violence/Swearing. Darker then normal Rikuo.

7. The Dance

AN: Thank you for reading and reviewing, its greatly appreciated :) Also, I love thesaurus..

Disclaimer: I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago.

…..

The Dance.

…..

"So, are you challenging me?"

"Why Yes! My family long steeped in ayakashi bloodlines! I think its about time we stand on the very top of them all!"

"Your family, huh? Which one, the Emperors, or the Gods?"

"Both, of course! Though, technically, my mother doesn't know I'm doing this."

"Hah. Yes, my mother tends to turn a blind eye aswell. So, why are you telling me all this?"

"I, my dear man, like my honour! I believe in rules! We should talk this over. There is a celebration in my name tomorrow night. You should come! We can share the best sake money can buy! Set out some rules of war!"

Rules of war… Rikuo smirked softly, glancing at the mirror absently, scratching at the five o'clock shadow that had grown through the night. Working on automatic, he drew the shaving blade against his skin slowly, scrapping away the offending hairs.

An ayakashi, as a general rule, didn't have much honour in their bones. Most of them were born from spirits that had been wronged in life, or from people who had died with unfinished business – like Kubinashi, a Yokai solely dedicated to the eradication of his fellow Yokai. Or even legends, like the Yuki-On'na, or Kurotaba. It was rare to find anyone that held a deep sense of honour, to the point that they would openly declare war, and then want to sign a contract stating what he can and cannot do?

What is this, the NATO?

And what happens if the contract is breached? Rikuo thought, amused by the absurdity of it all. Do I receive a penalty, have to sit on the sidelines for thirty minutes?

And then there was the whole God thing. It had been annoying him from the start. Kasai no Koneko had been surprisingly open about everything he had drilled her about, happy to give him as much information that she had gathered over the year that she had been on the mortal plane. But there were so many questions, and he knew… he just fucking knew that most of them would be left unanswered.

The blade grazed upwards, making a streak amongst the cream.

One thing he was…slightly grateful for was that he landed the kitsune rather than….whatever that Prince is. The timed honesty of Koneko was easier to deal with then the booming, abruptness of that Prince. Rikuo had found himself wanting to hold a cold pack to his head after all that yelling. There was something about the kitsune that he enjoyed – that dark

"Master Rikuo!" He could hear Kubinashi call for him from behind the shoji door, letting him know that it was time to go. There was plenty of time though. Rikuo didn't feel like playing by anyones rules but his own. He owned the throne.

And then there was…. Tsurara.

Gods, Tsurara. She had always been there for him, through the worst of his days, when his father died, when he struggled with accepting his Yokai self and everyone else wanted to abandon him. The Yuki-On'na had always held hope for him at the end of the day, whenever there was none.

When he was fourteen, there had been a moment between them that couldn't be described. It had been a complete accident, something stupid. Packing away chairs like a slave in the auditorium. Always the good guy, he had taken over Kanas' chores, happy to help out wherever he could. Tsurara came to check on him, the boxes collapse, he found himself pulling the Yuki-On'na to shield her from the heavy gym equipment.

The way she looked up to him, those big blue eyes trusting that he would always be there to protect her, adoring him no matter who he was, or what form he took…

He will take her from you…

"Fuck." Rikuo growled, slamming the razor into the basin, staring at the man in the mirror. Dark brown hair, half of it touched by the shadows of his ayakashi blood. Mud eyes, once described as puppy dog eyes, indifferent to the world around him. When had he turned into what he saw before him? He shouldered the Fear of every Hyakki-Yako member within the Nura clan. His shoulders carried their hopes, etched into his very skins, each individual Fear. A beautiful, intricate burden.

And yet, even after the Nues' battle, when they fought at his back, Rikuo found himself shouldering each decision, each discussion, each deal.

Each death.

"Master Rikuo!" Kubinashi summoning him, once again. If he didn't hurry, they'd be running late.

Dark eyes, crimson in colour, mirroring the stains on his hands. Were these the reason why he could no longer reach that humanity within him? No. It was beyond just being Yokai now. The Yakuza part that turned him into this.

Brown eyes, wanting, hungery, begging. Wrong, so wrong. Why did he…

Soft amber eyes, always looking after him, gentle, admiring, loving. Why didn't he…

"MASTER RIKUO!" Kejoro this time, her voice much more demanding then Kubinashi could ever manage. He felt his head snap upwards, crimson eyes, silver black hair.

That would have to be something do deal with after this war with rules and contracts.

Gently, he washed away the soap, scrubbing at his skin til it hurt, before turning on his heel, tucking his hands closely into his Haori, a tight, strained smile curling onto his lips as he stepped out into the corridor. Here, they waited, impatience etched on many faces who were dressed in their finest. Taking his time, he observed each one individually, admiring the amazing power radiating from each one.

He smiled softly. "Let's go."

…

The tightness felt like it was squeezing the very soul from her ribs, her face pressed flush against the wall, pain searing through her as she struggled to breath. A rough hand pushed her head down a little further, another grabbed her hips and pulled at the ties until she screamed.

"Oh shut up, you filthy little slut." Asami snarled, ripping Konekos' head back by the hair so she could hiss the words into her ear. "Be grateful that I can use you, otherwise I would feed you to my children."

"What children?" Koneko growled back, her fangs barred in a pained grimace. "I figured you'd be a sterile as your personality."

The hit wasn't nearly as hard as she expected, but never the less, Asamis' revenge would leave a bruise on her ribs the sieze of a melon. The kitsune whimpered, her tails tucked tightly between her legs, lowering her body a little so the tall woman could finish the torture of the corset. Behind her, Tsurara stood, already dressed in a beautiful pure white kimono, the sleeves so long that they grazed the ground. Blue Koi were stitched into the bottom of the sleeves and around the bottom of the furisode, looking like that they were frozen in the snow fields of the kimono. Around her waist, a navy blue obi, the ribbon at her back looking like dark fish scales cascading down her back. Her face painted white, lips red as blood, eyes lidded with heavy eyeliner. That silvery white hair fell down her back, with a soft blue silk lily tied in just above her ear, blue crystals hanging down to her collar bone. The Yuki-On'na looked at home in such exquisite finery, not at all like she had in the short kimonos of Konekos preference. Those crimson eyes stared at the kitsune absently, watching her squirm, a faint smile on her lips.

"Have you memorised the dance, Yuki-On'na?" Asami growled, finally letting the tortured kitsune go, causing her to stagger away, holding her hands to her chest.

Tsurara made a face of disdain at the taller, older woman. "My mother taught me the Kabuki when I was a child. Buyo is nothing to me." She said, her voice haughty, looking away from them as Koneko struggled into a kimono that mirrored Tsuraras own. "Would you rather me play whilst Kasai-san danced?"

"No." The woman said simply ignoring the challenge in the Yuki-On'nas' voice as the kitsune sat for makeup, placidly whimpering in the back of her throat. "You will both dance. It's bad enough that that stupid mercenary lot scared off my girls, but to have only two to replace them."

She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat, walking around the side of the cowering Koneko with a blue lily hairclip. "Hells, where can I put this damn thing, kitsunes are such ugly Yokai."

Koneko made an insulted sound, but the slap across her head quietened it. Gold eyes darted to the Yuki-On'na pleadingly. Tsurara gave a her a soft smile, before her eyes turned to the fans spread out on the table - all four of them huge by normal standards, beautiful blue silk with silver pond lilies. They were too large, too heavy.

"You must hire men." Tsurara observed thoughtfully, her voice humourless as she picked up one of the Sensu gingerly and turning it over in her hand. "These things are graceless."

Asami turned her vicious green eyes on her, tucking the last of the clips into Konekos' hair, tearing into the kitsune scalp. "They are graceless if the dancer is graceless. Let's pray that you two whores can use them."

Finally, Koneko stood up tall, a sour look plastered on her face as she looked down on her kimono, the way it dragged on the floor. "My tails hurt." She whined softly, moving to scoop up the skirts, only to have her hands swiped at by the Nure-On'na.

"No. Bad dog." Asami growled softly, gleefully watching the pout that came to Kasais' face. There was a bang, the door bursting open , making the snake woman turn her head, her deep red lips opening to yell.

Only to fall silent, her tall slender body folding in the middle in a gentle, nimble bow. "My Lord."

Koneko fell silent immediately, suddenly glad that the long skirts of the kimono hid the way her tails were fluffing against her legs. Golden eyes met sapphire blue ones. Her hackles rose.

The enemy was immense, muscled, taller than she expected. Dark hair fell onto his shoulders, a thick mess of bangs and loose strands. He was clean shaven, which seemed completely out of place when in the whole scheme of his body. His teeth gleamed as he grinned at the girls, those stormy blue eyes bearing down on her.

There, right in front of her. Konekos' target. The man she was to kill.

"Aha! They are beautiful, Myo!" His voice sounded like an avalanche, loud and overbearing. Behind him, the man with the crimson hair stepped up to his side. "Only you would be able to find such stunning creatures in a back alley!"

Koneko side-stepped til she stood behind Tsurara, leaning her head down a little so she was half hidden against the Yuki-On'na, who, in turn pulled her gently against her, those newly dark red eyes half lidded, turned away, submissive to the Crown Prince. "We owe Kyuket-kun our lives." She murmured softly, bowing low, tugging the reluctant kitsune down into a bow. "We are happy to help."

The crimson man seemed to beam at them, looking like a proud owner. "Yudoku-san made them even more beautiful. The performance will be spectacular."

Katsuro turned his eyes on the exquisite Asami, who smiled so prettily for the first time since the younger Yokai girls had first seen her and moved to the Princes side, allowing him to kiss her fully on the lips, drawing her close.

"Ugh." Kasai murmured softly in Tsuraras' ear, her nose crinkled in disgust. "Its worst then Shadow Sneak and that human."

There was a cough from the blood ayakashi and the Prince gently pulled away, a laugh on his breath as the Nure-On'na leaned into his chest, looking her face flushed, a happy smile on her lips. The prince turned his attention to the man. "We're making our captain uncomfortable, Asami my dear!"

Emerald eyes glittered dangerously. "He's just jealous, my Prince."

Kyukets' mouth twitched in annoyance, his arms crossing over his chest. "I have little time, my Prince. I must start preparations for the performance now. My men are waiting for you to decide."

"Decide what, my man?" the Prince glanced at the Yokai girls suspiciously, leaning on each other in their kimonos, trying to look inconspicuous in the corner.

Myo gave them a lingering look, then shrugged lightly, uncaring. "Sir, I have been running around the shadows since we got here. I would rather get this over and done with. I doubt the girls hold allegiance with the Nura clan – it was most likely their thugs that attacked them."

There was a moments silence, Koneko trembled a little as the eyes of Susanoos' champion bore into her, feeling like he was delving into the dark crevices of her soul, searching her secrets. Tsurara squeezed her hand gently, giving her courage. Finally, the storm turned his eyes from them, a absent smile on his lips as he looked over to his captain.

"Well then." He said finally, his smile vicious suddenly. "Let us begin."

…..

The Takarabune descended from the clouds, bringing with it a fog so thick with dread that no human dared to step into it. He soared gracefully til, with a gentle thump that made the mist momentarily disperse, he bumped listlessly into the Pagoda, breaking a bit of the first floor roofing off in the process.

"Ooooooooh!" The voice howled happily, sounding like the wind blasting on a desert plain. "We're heeeeerrreee Masterrr!"

In the quiet, six figures slowly stepped down from the ships walk plank, silently milling around the entrance. Rikuo, the last to leave the sky fortress, turned to the giant Yokai, whispering his orders fervently so only Takarabune could hear. With a gentle clap on the oaken side from his Master, the beast let out a soft cry, a beautiful forlorn song as he ascended into the shadows of the night. They watched him slowly disappear, before turning to the Young Master.

Kubinashi. Aotabo. Kurotabo. Shoei. Zen.

And himself, the Young Master, Rikuo Nura, Master of All Spirits, Leader of the greatest Hyakii-Yako that Japan has ever seen.

Without a word, the men turned, heading into the Pagoda. The place was beautiful, a three story traditional Pagoda of old, renovated and refurbished to look almost new. Dogs with the faces of lions protected the entrance, forever frozen in a snarling roar. The building was painted the darkest black, visible against the sky only because of the feint light that came from the tinted shoji windows. The footsteps echoed as they strode, feet landing on cobblestones. Somewhere with the smoky halls, a lone samisen played, the soulful cords sending chills down Rikuos' spine. It called to him familiarly, like a lovers' sad cry.

Ahead, a tall woman, and a small framed geisha stood, guarding the door at the end of the hall. There was a quiet murmur of approval behind him between the men, a general chuckle that ended fast at Kubinashis' cough. Rikuo glanced over his shoulder, raising an eye brow before coming to a complete stop, watching a gorgeous olive skinned woman, clad in a green silk dress that showed so much cleavage that it made Kurotaba blush. Just behind her, a lithe figure, bowing low, white hair with molten gold strands-

Rikuo tried not to stare. Kasai, those golden eyes coming up to stare into his, a single finger pressed onto painted lips, a gesture that annoyed Rikuo more than her actual presence. His eyes narrowed just a little, but he turned as the woman spoke.

"Welcome to the Lord Mikotos' personal living quarters for the Kanto region." She said, her voice musical as she spoke, eyes glittering like green gems. "I am Asami Yudoku. I am the High Priestess to the Royal Family. It is an honour to meet the legendary hero of Japan."

There was a soft chortle of laughter from behind him, Aotabo, amused by the womans words. "He's already got a big head, try not to make it worse, woman."

Her smile wavered for just a moment and Rikuo could have sworn a panicked expression flashed by Koneko's face. Yudokus' smile recovered easily and she bowed just a little. "My Lord tells me this title is well deserved. But I will refrain for your comfort." Those emerald eyes turned to meet the Young Masters. "It is customary to leave your weapons at the door before entering. Please, feel free to give them to Kasai. She will take care of them."

Rikuos' mouth twitched , his eyes darting to the kitsune, an mistrustful glint in them. "Shoei and I am the only one carrying a blade." He said calmly. It was… technically the truth. It was rare for full blooded Yokai to carry a weapon. Most of the time, the weapon was just as much a part of them as their hands and feet.

The woman nodded, happy with this. "Very well. Please, follow me."

With a subtle signal from their own Master, Kubinashi, Kurotaba, Aotabo and Zen pushed past him respectfully, entering through the door after the High Priestess. Rikuo waited, watching Shoei reluctantly give his large katana over to the kitsune, burning a whole into her with his contained frustration.

"Thank you, sir." Koneko said placidly, bowing with the katana held tightly to her chest. Shoei patted her gently on her head, before leaving through the door, joining the rest of the group. Leaving Koneko to suffer Rikuos' glare. Gold eyes turned to meet it, unwavering.

"Master." She said; her voice suddenly monotone. "Your blade, if you please."

Carefully, the Young Master held out his own sword, holding out to her. With a timid hand, Koneko reached out and gripped the sheath, ready to take it, but Rikuo refused to let go, glaring down at her furiously. A frown came to those red lips, and she tugged, hard, pulling the man in close til they were toe to toe. She rose up on the tips of her stockinged toes, pressing her lips to his ear.

"The dance." She said simply, before pulling away, a friendly smile on her lips. "I will make sure your weapons are returned to you promptly."

"I hate you." Rikuo grumbled softly, his hand momentarily tightening on the sheath before letting go and stepping back. "She better be safe."

Konekos' face remained relax, smiling softly. "Of course, Master." Her voice rang cheerfully as she bowed low. "Only the best."

Swearing under his breath at the kitsunes tenacity, he turned away from her, pushing his way throu-

"Master."

Rikuo turned his head a little, looking back over his shoulder to eye the kitsune, her painted face emotionaless against the flickering shadows.

"You don't deserve her." Kasais' words cut into him, sharper and hotter than any blade that she could conjure. Without answering, the Young Master turned his back on her, letting the door shut with a foreboding thud.

He will take her from you.

….

The room was surprisingly smaller than he expected, looking more like something he would expect to see in some shady back ally strip joint. A huge stage, hidden behind by a velvet red curtain took up most of the room. Somewhere behind that curtain, the lone samisen player strummed harmoniously.

In front of the stage, roughly a meter or two back, three large booths were set up in a crescent formation, each one looking like they could easily seat four or five people comfortably in a concave arch. One on the right, facing just diagonally enough to have a good view of the stage. Directly across on the right side of the room was another, exactly like it. Kubinashi, Aotabo and Kurotabo had taken their place in the booth on the right – looking comfortable despite the seriousness of the situation. Zen and Shoei sat in the left booth.

Inbetween these two booths was a third, directly facing the stage. Here, Katsuro Mikoto lounged, puffing away at a large cigar, with what could possibly be the largest dog that Rikuo had ever seen laying at the Crown Princes' feet, sound asleep.

Konekos' voice chimed into his mind as he silently observed his enemy from the doorways shadow.

"Tsukuyomi – because he really isn't supposed to be 'influencing the fight'. Gave Susanoos' son a pet of sorts-"

A pet of sorts. Why couldn't it have been a ferret?

"Ah! Nura-kun!" That thunderous voice boomed, signalling that he had been spotted. "Come, come! Where are those damned servants when you need 'em, eh?"

The Young Master tentively walked over to the booth, glancing side-to-side at his men. Admittedly, he didn't like how their backs were so exposed, with the high ceilings disappearing into an uneasy dark abyss above them. The place was only faintly lit by tall shoji style lamps that were placed at the end of each of the lounges. A large beam of light came from somewhere at the end wall behind the middle couch, casting light on the stage.

Taking his place beside the Prince in the middle booth, Rikuo instantly beset by two men dressed in high collar black shirts. They bowed lowly, each one presenting the Prince and himself with a silver platters, a range of cocktails and sake glinting at him temptingly. The Prince reached up, taking a goblet filled with a lemonish yellow liquid. Quickly following suit, Rikuo selected the same goblet, before the servants spread out to serve the other tables. Looking at the glass, Rikuos' nose scrunched up just a little – the drink looked like piss.

"You could not have chosen better, Young Lord!" The Prince laughed, lifting the glass joyously to Rikuo before taking a deep drink. "Hmmpftt! Keep you going all night, this stuff!"

Rikuo flashed him a charming grin, raising his glass back to the man, before bringing it to his lips apprehensively. He doubted that it was poisoned – it was near impossible to poison a Yokai unless the toxin was touched by Fear of some kind – Zed had reassured him of this several times. Plus, the way the Crown Prince was downing his drinks, it would be too be of a risk. Glasses are too easily switched.

The drink was zesty, light, and surprisingly refreshing. Hopefully, whoever had made it would be alive by the end of the night to hand over the recipe.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Prince Katsuro." Rikuo said in a conversational tone. "It's a nice change of pace for me. Most of my enemies just out right attack me."

Katsuro laughed as the servants came once again, placing a large platter ofexpensive looking sushi on each of the booths tables. "My Captain advised me to do exactly as such, to be honest." He said openly, taking another swig of his drink. "But my father would not like it. And honestly, I prefer it this way. The way of a gentleman."

Rikuo chuckled softly and raised his glass once again, earning a beam from the Prince. "To being a gentleman!"

There was a comfortable sound of conversation going on around him between his men as they ate from the large silver platters. Zen and Shoei, both having grown up with the Young Master Rikuo, were in deep talk about Hell knows what. Kubinashi was arguing with Aotabo about fighting techniques heatidly, completely ignoring the discomfort of the sombre Kurotabo, who was staring expectantly at the stage. For a little while, the atmosphere actually felt friendly –feeling more like a boys night out rather than a life changing meeting. Rikuo found himself entrenched in a discussion about swords of all things.

"It really is quiet difficult to find a beautiful blade these days." Rikuo sighed wistfully. "I feel so naked without it by my side."

Katsuro chuckled at his discomfort. "Ah, but I'm told you have an onmyoji weapons master making your personal weapons."

The Young Master groaned darkly, rolling his eyes as he laid back. "Have you ever dealt with humans? It's like getting blood from stone. They are worst then the Bakanekos' when it comes to negotiating."

At this the Young Prince laughed deeply, his voice vibrating off the walls. "Yes! Humans are always so difficult." He said cheerfully. "Why just today my dear Asami lost all of her geishas! Humans are such fickle things."

Zen coughed on his drink. "How the Hell do you lose a bunch of women?" He asked, unbelieving. "Wait, what about the one that greeted us?" He added, as if by afterthought.

"Oooooh! Who knows what happened!" His voice boomed, an amused smile on his face. "I don't pretend to know the dealings of woman!"

There was an agreeable chortle all around. Aotabo raised a goblet to his lips. "I'll drink to that."

Katsuro grinned widely at the reaction he received, seemingly pleased with himself. Sitting back, he waved a servant across. "Speaking of the fairer sex!" he said cheerfully as the servant came across to him. "I think it's about time for tonights' entertainment."

With a nod, the serving man disappeared onto the stage. There was some movement from behind the curtains, before the beautiful Asami, still clad in her silky green dress, glided across the stage, the movement like a wave breaking across the shore.

"I hope tonights feast has brought the Lords of this Land closer to understanding each other." She said, her musical voice sounding like she was reading from a script. "Please sit back and enjoy while my girls dance for you."

As she finished speaking, the lone samisen died away. The High Priestess exited across to the right, letting an anticipated silence fall onto the crowd. Then, finally, the curtain rose up with a slow squeak.

Two geishas' stood center stage, facing out to the crowd. Instead of the usual, traditional painted faces, each of the girls wearing white porcelain masks. The one on the left bore what looked like a golden helm, or crown, encrusted in zircon gems in elaborate patterns along the gold ridges. The gold came down the bridge of the nose and down over the temples, coming low along the high cheekbones. The white porcelain looked cracked, a web of hairline fractures spreading across the mask. Dark lined eyes with painted lashes and blood red lips complimented the entire design, creating a regal appearance. Her kimono was just as beautiful, snow white with a deep navy blue obi, the same deep blue koi fish seemingly swimming around the bottom of the kimono and hems of the sleeves.

The woman on the right wore a much less regal one. The base colour was the same pure white, but the black lined eyes had been painted with what looked like fire, slowly consuming the sides of her face. Her upper lip had been painted gold, with only the very middle of her lower lip painted the same colour. This one was dressed in a deep blue kimono with a snow white obi, the same koi etched into the hems, except in silver thread.

Rikuo couldn't help but be amused at the sight of tall white wolf ears poking over the top of the mask, flicking back and forward nervously. Koneko no Kasai.

Which meant that the other one was no other then Tsurara Oikawa.

The internal struggle Rikuo had with himself not to rush up onto the stage and drag her from this wretched building as the Yuki-On'na bowed low to the audience was soul wrenching. Beside her, Koneo bowed low as well, but nowhere near as graceful as Tsurara had done. At the side of the stage, Asami reappeared with the samisen in her arms. She took a seated position, cross legged on the side of the stage, bringing the three string guitar into her lap. A sing, lonely cord was played, and the dancers stepped back, facing each other readily. Another cord. In each of the dancers hands, there were silk fans, large by sensu standards. Koneko held blue ones, Tsurara, the same snow white of her kimono. They shifted, their movements synchronized, stepping back and bracing their feet, one hand coming out, fans clicking open as their hands raised up. The other hand came up other their heads in a high arch.

They looked ready for battle.

The music stared.

The fans sliced downwards, looking like blades as the women spun dangerously close to each other, each step in perfect harmony with their partners. When they stopped, each had a fan pushed up close to the others throat, the women staring each other down through those hollow eyed masks. Then, with another cord, they darted backwards away from each other.

The audience watched with baited breath as the geishas glided across the floor, before rushing at each other with quick, orchestrated movements, dodging expert strikes. At one point, Rikuo watched at Tsurara tossed a fan across the room as if it was a shuriken, the fan cutting through the air. Koneko in turn launched one of her own fans back at her, the flying weapons passing each other by mere centimetres. They both caught the fans as they soared past, twirling in their place to compensate for the heavy fans momentum. They finally came to a stop, panting heavily, standing ready in the same pose as they had started, posed, ready to strike.

"They look like they really are trying to kill each other." Shoei breathed in awe.

Zen nodded, "It's strangely beautiful."

Slowly, the two dancers strode across the stage to the center, their movements dramatized, looking like cats stalking each other, masks turning this way and that, each one anticipating the other to strike first. Then, finally, they came to a stop, standing toe to toe with each other, gazing hungrily at the each other, daring the other to move. The samisen had stopped playing, with only a lone flute playing solitary long note.

Tsurara looked at Koneko through her mask, swallowing her nerves down. "Are you ready, Kasai?" She breathed, her words only audible to the kitsune above the wail of the flute.

Gold eyes remained fixated on hers, "Yes. Let's do it."

The flutes song ended, the samisen started up with a softer chord. They were supposed to part away with a spin, ready for another assault, the finality in the dance of death. But as the guitar strumbed, they didn't move, staring each other down hard.

Then, without warning, Tsurara raised her hand up, the large fan snapping shut as it went upwards, swinging it hard, striking the kitsune across the cheek with the fan so hard that her fragile mask smashed in her face, falling into a million pieces on the floor.

"You stupid slut!" The Yuki-On'na screeched as Kasai stumbled back, holding her wounded face with a whimpering cry. "You screwed it all up!"

Everyone in the room felt their jaw drop. This, of all things, was not expected to happen.

"Me?!" Howled the kitsune, coming back at Tsurara with a hard push to her chest, her wolfish ears flush against her head in anger. "You're the one who forgot the second toss! You were so off beat a drunk, three-legged cat could have done better!"

Rikuos' eyes darted away from the quarrelling women, seeing the Crown Prince had too been caught completely off-guard by the spectacle. He turned his eyes back to the stage just in time to see Koneko land a vicious slap across Tsuraras' face.

That was the final straw. They launched at each other, both doing their very best to claw the other eyes out, or rip out hair. Rikuo began to cheer on the fight jeeringly, recognising a diversion when he saw one. His men glanced at him hesitantly, surprised by their masters actions, but quickly followed suit, yelling out cat calls and obscenities at the brawling pair. Although it took a second, Rikuo found the Princes eagerness for popularity took over, and he joined in, his booming voice joining in with the rest.

Asami was furious though. Throwing the samisen to the ground with an angry growl, launching herself upwards in the same movement and striding over to the fray, her usually beautiful face turning ugly as her hand reached out to rip Koneko back by her hair.

"Why you dirty lil' who-!"

She never finished that sentence. As the High Priestess reached out to snatch Kasais' hair, the kitsune dodged to the left. A blast of sub-zero wind pushed past Rikuos' face as Tsurara flung her arm out as if to hit the escaping kitsune. A surge of ice materialize, summoned by the Ice Maidens unique Fear, driving forth, colliding with Asami with a sickening crunch as it went. A huge snowdrift smothered her stage soon after, blocking the stage from view.

Posed on the edge of his seat, Rikuo readied himself, listening to the Crown Prince bellowing madly for the High Priestess.

The blizzard of blinding snow began to fade, allowing the audience to finally see the stage. Rikuo wished the snow had never stopped moving. There in the middle of the stage, the ice rose up, reaching towards the ceiling like a sheer stalagmite, sharp edge narrowing to a peak. The breath taking structure glittered eviliy, thick red fluid oozing down its sleek surface. Rikuos' eyes followed it upwards, his stomach pitting dangerously as his eyes reached the spear like peak.

There, at the very top, still struggling painfully was Asami Yodoku – the sharp peak impaling her directly through the stomach.

…..