Act III
of responsibilities and resolves
The raid on Nijo Castle was anything but a surprise. That it would come to battle at that place had been clear for both (all three) sides. It was the timing that was the issue. The onmyoji of course would prefer to attack during daytime. The Clan didn't. And as the onmyoji didn't dare to make the move alone...
In regards to the date...well, no one had ever accused Nurarihyon of being patient.
Why wait after all? For what?
Just the mere thought of taking another day as some of their retainers had suggested was infuriating.
All the time Rikuo's emotions flickered between fury and exhaustion, and he was tired of it.
It would end tonight. Fool those who would stand in his way.
Damn the old man.
Damn the fox. Damn the Hayku Monogatari. Damn the Nue.
Or whoever. Damn them all.
(Sister. Not just a curve-ball off chance that had to be investigated, but might actually – might probably be really – a sister. What the hell?)
(How was he supposed to deal with that?)
The hyakkiyako was fired up, mist all but solid around them, at his feet, at his command.
Nijo Castle's front gate didn't even stand up to his glare, creaking with sudden age and falling of the hinges.
Hunger for violence pumped in his yokai blood, but he was probably the only one in the parade whose feelings were overshadowed by stark anger.
His grin of his lips was nasty and lacking the usual ease. "Go wild everyone! Show them why we are the most feared yokai Clan!"
The majority of his followers split up, roaring and screaming to pick fights with the outer yokai guards. No doubt they would be distracting and chaotic enough that the question of where was Nura Rihan did not occur to them and thus would not think to guard their general rather than meeting the Nura hyakkiyako with all their strength before they could bother said general.
Rikuo didn't pay those fights much attention, his sight on the gate behind the second moat. Unlike the first gate, there were no guards visible. He sensed them, though.
His sandals scrapped over the ground, then over the wooden planks of the bridge. Trying to trick a nurarihyon with illusions. Morons.
He drew his sword, gathered Fear around it and cut through.
A pair of yokai guards became visible. A disproportioned duo. The smaller one started talking.
"Nurarihyon's grandson. You are angry. You want to crush us. Hagoromo Kitsune – Hagoromo Kitsune-sama may be what?!"
Itaku pulled out his sickles. Rikuo didn't even bother slowing his pace.
Itaku shot forward, blades too sharp for even the air to whistle. He still missed.
Rikuo stopped and narrowed his eyes.
"What you are going to do next, I already know. I can read it like a book," the smaller of the yokai pronounced. He was sweating and shooting unsettled looks in Rikuo's direction. Reading his mind? Let the feeling of a world tearing down accompany him to his grave.
Itaku clicked his tongue, more irritated than impressed.
Moving his fingers as though pulling the strings on a puppet, the yokai proceeded to announce Itaku's thoughts. "'Annoying ability. If he can read my next move I'll have to attack in a way they can't dodge. Speed or size. Size. Attack everything –' Eh? Eh?!"
Itaku's wind blades tore them to shreds, obliterated the second gate and broke the bridge to a meter in front of Rikuo's feet.
Aotabo batted flying debris aside before Rikuo had to move. "Damn Toono folk, strong they may be, can't they watch who they bother with their fights?"
"The temple," Yura muttered dazedly, trying to keep herself separate from the parade she was sucked into but failing mostly due to lack of space. "Our piece of history and holy ground…"
Mist congregated as Rikuo set a foot where the bride used to be, carrying him into the building.
"Those had better not have been some of the better kyoto yokai." Awashima grumbled. "Hardly worth noticing."
The hallway they entered was obscured by foreign Fear.
Rikuo drew his sword. "The big shots have to have noticed by now that the onmoyji skirmishing with them north are just the distraction. They'll come here now."
Onmoyji distracted for them and they distracted for the Second.
Way too bothersome a strategy. It was irritating all by itself. But – but it had to be done, so long as there was a chance…
Gritting his teeth, Rikuo marched forward, making no attempts at masking his presence. Let them come. Let them all come.
"Rikuo-sama," Kurotabo spoke up, caution in his voice. Moments later they emerged in a large hall, easily big enough to host a hundred people.
They were expected.
As a rule of thumb, it was generally said that yokai capable of taking human form were to be placed high in the power ranking system. Jackpot.
An old man, a young man with half his face covered by wood, a middle aged man, an old man with a long nose, and someone with white hair who looked to be barely past his teen years. If those were like division leaders then the yokai in front of them were the respective subordinates.
Minagoroshi Jizou was absent. As was the giant skeleton. No matter.
The Nura Clan pooled into the hall, balancing the numbers.
"Rikuo-sama," Mezumaru said quietly. "The yokai on the far right is Tengu of Mount Kurama, a longtime rival of Gyuki-sama's and supposedly Hagoromo Kitsune's right hand man."
Yet he was here and not guarding their master. Casually resting his blade against his shoulder, hand tugged inside his yukata, Rikuo gave them a once over. "I don't care who you are. Move aside or be destroyed."
The old man in a suit was the first to respond, pulling his sword from its sheath. "Loathsome Nurarihyon. Pity those who you lead away from the glory of Nue's rebirth. If you are a yokai you too should rejoice the arrival of the herald who will lead us to an age of darkness."
Rikuo snorted in contempt. "I will never bow to anyone, be they legendary onmoyji-yokai or not. And certainly not some guy who doesn't even have the dignity to accept his death a thousand years after the fact."
Rikuo's ability to grate on people's nerves was as good as always as the yokai's dignified expression twitched. Unlike his fellows however he at least managed to not make it obvious how much Rikuo got to them.
"The only reason you dare speak so arrogantly, boy, is because you are young and ignorant of true power." He readied stance to attack. "Your damned bloodline should have been erased four hundred years ago."
A nasty smile came automatically even as he sensed his hyakkiyako readying. "You tried. And failed."
Battle exploded. Rikuo found himself fending off the blade of the old yokai whose name Rikuo didn't even know. Near him, he felt Tsurara's ice freeze the air and the loud crash as Aotabo's fists crushed something. Kurotabo's blades sliced through air and Itaku, Awashima, Reira and the other guys from Toono met the half wood yokai. Gozu and Mezu were trying their hand at the Tengu.
Only Shoei wasn't fighting. Rikuo felt his eyes on him.
Putting power behind the crossed blades, Rikuo pushed the oni-yokai back. He did not need to be worried about!
"My name is Kidomaru, Lady Hagoromo Kitsune's loyal follower since one thousand years ago. Give me your name, Grandson of our loathed nemesis. For your skill you deserve at least that." The grotesque features of an oni's face broke through as though eating the human appearance. Red eyes glowed.
Rikuo ignored the fine scratches littering his skin. That guy was fast. "Nura Rikuo, Young Master of the Nura Clan." Sword parallel to the ground, tip pointed at the enemy, Rikuo considered.
The oni was faster than Rikuo, as well as capable of slicing through Rikuo's Fear. In terms of swordsmanship, the other yokai had some thousand years plus experience on him.
Heated blood rushed through his body, for a moment lifting the oppressive uncertainty that ate at him.
This was a challenge - a fight. A fight that Rikuo would not be able to win unless he took it seriously – unless he banished everything else from his mind.
Thump.
Fun.
Invoking Kyoka Suigetsu, Rikuo left an afterimage behind. If he completely vanished..., well it didn't take a genius to figure out that there was Fear to be but, but so long the invoke itself remained unnoticed most yokai didn't know a Nurarihyon had made their move until they were defeated.
The trick was to notice.
Kidomaru did, brushing the illusion aside and catching Rikuo's blade on his with little effort. That's fine. As Rikuo had already demonstrated Kyoka Suigetsu's abilities on a grand scale at the second temple, he had expected it.
Had counted on it, gripping his sword with merely one hand. Even had the attack struck true, he would not have done much damage like that.
The entire point was his second hand. Kidomaru's eyes widened as Rikuo's illusion scattered and his sight fell on the flat, round cup in his left.
In midair, feet still not touching the ground, all his weight pressed down on the crossing blades, Rikuo breathed over sake.
Ripples curled the surface. In an instant sparks ignited to a roaring blaze of blue flames, devouring everything they touched.
In his attempt to put distance between them, Kidomaru's sword strike pushed him back. His feet skirted over the ground. His right hand tingled, wrist aching from the power of the slash.
Primary sword arm. Not good.
But the gambit had worked.
Ordinarily, Ougi Meikyo Shisui Sakura burned until dawn and could not be extinguished. Things like that blurred of course when the opponent was strong, however it was still a dangerous technique. The only natural skill of a Nurarihyon that was purely offensive.
Kidomaru emerged from the flames singed and with a darkly murderous expression that definitely did no longer play at I-am-a-wise-elder-listen-to-me-amusing-youngster.
Rikuo smirked.
Rage flickered through the oni's Fear, which gathered in a visible shroud. Rikuo shifted to a defensive stance.
Instead of attacking him however, Kidomaru rammed his blade into the floor.
The world shifted.
Castle fading into nothingness, Rikuo found himself in a world of pure white. No shadows and no light, no way of telling distances. The disorienting effect was staggering, even with the paint-brush drawn gate rising in front of him.
Rikuo had never been in one before, but he knew they existed – spaces created by age and Fear.
Transportable home turf.
Shit.
"Rikuo-sama," Shoei said tensely, a world of meaning in that one word as he stepped beside him. Shoei was the only one also dragged into this separate reality, and evidently was no longer willing to just let Rikuo act. His fist closed tightly on the hilt of his massive sword.
"I'm fine," Rikuo said through gritted teeth. "Stand back." Battling in this place, under these conditions…Rikuo tasted blood in his mouth. His world narrowed down. Even in a situation like this, cut off from support and in enemy space – he would not falter.
A hand settled on his shoulder, holding him back. "Wait."
"What?" Rikuo very nearly snapped.
Shoei lowered his head so that he could speak closely in Rikuo's ear, eyes never leaving the dangerous, dangerous foe. "Look, I don't know what's eating at you, but you're forgetting yourself."
Rikuo stiffened. A breath was half sucked in -
Shoei's grip tightened. "I've known you since we were kids and if you can't tell me, then I get that. But, Rikuo, you're not just anyone. You are the one who will lead us – the next generation. We have your back Rikuo." His voice was intent and heavy. "Don't you know that it hurts if you don't depend on us when you're hurting?"
Rikuo's muscles unwound, no longer ready to launch.
If he didn't –
But Rikuo relied on them. Or did he?
…he did, but only sometimes. Accomplishing things by himself, pushing himself, getting stronger, testing how far he could go – Rikuo liked doing that. If he got help, the point would be entirely missed. Which was why he disliked his stifling security on most days, why he loved Toono.
But sometimes, he needed help. He knew that. He couldn't do everything by himself; he was only one person.
Yet…
He wasn't using them as they wished.
Not since – he couldn't. He didn't want to. "I understand that," Rikuo told him lowly, eyes also on their foe and his subordinates. "But please put up with my selfishness a bit longer. Once the Fox is defeated…"
But Shoei only shook his head. "I know. Or I guessed. Everyone does, Rikuo. And we don't mind giving you the space you need for as long as you need it." A brief pause. "But don't forget to be aware of your importance. We follow you, and will follow no one else." The hanyo looked at the enemies, the lesser of which didn't dare attack, and the leader of which thought it below his dignity to when they already were on his grounds. "Here, in this situation, I'm asking you. Don't take risks. If something were to happen..."
There were half a dozen things Rikuo could say to that. Half a dozen things he wanted to say the most polite of which was I won't lose. He bit his tongue.
Rikuo was confident in his ability to win. Of course he was. But there was always more to take into account. He was the Young Master, while his father was otherwise engaged the hyakkiyako was his, Shoei asked him – not ordered, not advised, not requested. Asked. From friend to friend.
…had he worried Shoei (everyone) so much that he felt asking (pleading) was the only way to reach him?
Had he been that inattentive and selfish that he hadn't even noticed the unhappiness he caused?
Guilt stirred. (The weight he had managed to forget in the heat of battle was back. But. Fine.)
"What would you have me do?" Rikuo returned, lips pressed together. "I wasn't fooling around, you know that. That one is good."
"Use me." Shoei said, intently.
Rikuo stilled. The urge to be, as his Toono friends put it, a spoilt brat came back with a vengeance. He bit it down. "You sure? I've only used it in practice before."
Shoei's face showed no doubt whatsoever. His eyes seemed to pierce Rikuo with their faith. "My power at your service, my Lord."
The thing about Matoi was that unlike Kyoka Suigetsu or Meikyo Shisui it didn't come from within. It was a blended and confused mix that blurred borders between the participants like rain did to watercolors. It was the closest form of teamwork imaginable, something that due to the close proximity of minds left one vulnerable to the other.
It was Rikuo's human blood that made it possible, but it was his Nurarihyon blood that made him hesitant to use it. The blood was powerful – Nurariyhon was one of the most powerful yokai in history. So powerful that even Rikuo, three quarters human or no, was aside from the daylight issue no different from any full-blooded Great Yokai. His personality was such that though his friends called him 'spoiled prince', he got what he wanted by his own hands and means and will and never, ever accepted not standing on top of the food chain.
In a symbiosis such as the one Matoi invoked, it was far, far too easy to crush his partner's soul on pure instinctive reaction.
And Rikuo…wasn't the best at reigning himself in.
Rikuo avoided Matoi to such degrees that he developed a second 'mode' even - fight on his own.
Rikuo swallowed. "Very well." If he was going to do this, he'd make it worth it. "We'll crush them and this space. All in one strike." His fingers tightened around the hilt of his katana, a vicious glint appearing in his eyes, a sharp tilt to his lips.
"Become my blade, Shoei."
Rikuo's spirit blade glinted as Sohei released his Fear. From the blade's connection to Rikuo, it took hold in his human blood. An anchor. The majority shaped Rikuo's sword.
Foreign thoughts brushed against his mind like grass swaying in the wind. Rikuo kept focus sharp on target. Kidomaru. Who suddenly looked as though he regretted taking the dignified approach of allowing the enemy the first strike on his home turf.
No fun.
But domination.
Rikuo could live with that.
"Hihi no Matoi. Kokikurenai Daishinsou."
The giant cleaved weighted nothing in Rikuo's hand but the destruction in brought to this space, to the yokai who underestimated its might and thought he could kill Rikuo before Rikuo swung it down, belied this appearance.
TBC.
