"He has lost a lot of blood, and our surgeons cannot salvage a leg injury this severe. I'm afraid he'll never walk again, Akiko-sama." The physician arranged their documents on his desk.
"I told him to retire years ago..." the old woman huffed, "Now I'll have to tend to his garden for him, why can't he just listen to anyone?"
Ritsuki watched as his mother struggled to keep her composure, the woman who was usually kind and reserved was now simultaneously angry and quite visibly devastated.
"How long would you keep him for, doctor?" the boy shifted uneasily in his seat.
"I can't say, but if it's any reassurance his coworkers sure acted quickly. Pouring the alcohol as they did possibly saved your father's life, he's got good people looking out for him," The man said while adjusting his glasses.
"That includes you too." he then gestured to the two of them. The boy smiled at the man's kind words.
"Doctor, I'm sure he'd be fine under your care," Akiko chimed in, "but I'd like to stay the night with him."
"Of course!" the doctor responded cheerily, "I'll send for the nurse to fetch you an extra blanket."
"Thank you most kindly, Doctor Sadao."
Then Ritsuki and his mother got to their feet, bowed, and then left the good doctor's office.
In the hallway, mother and son stood still for a moment.
"I'll watch the house dutifully, don't worry..." the boy said with a chuckle, "You must stay with Father,"
"I'm... so sorry, please excuse me Ritsu, I-" she didn't finish as her son pulled her into a hug.
"Please don't, father needs you to be strong right now. I do too..."
"Yes, you're right..." She cleared her throat and hugged back, letting her son rest his head on her shoulders.
They stayed in each other's arms for a while before the nurse arrived.
"Good evening, ma'am, are you Mister Momota's wife?" Akiko nodded. The nurse signalled for her to follow, then led her away. She waved to her son as she went down the corridor.
The boy tiredly sighed, then looked out from the hospital's window into the gloomy night sky.
Ritsuki was walking back home on the cobbled sidewalk when he was stopped at a crossroads, waiting as a line of trucks drove by.
He then noticed a presence walk up behind him.
"Charming..." the boy heard the familiar deep and monotone voice of an old man.
He turned back to see the same old man he had bumped that evening, still in his rather unusual black and red kimono.
"So, here we meet again, though last time you seemed a lot merrier; has something happened?"
The boy said nothing, which made the man mumble under his breath.
"I've come to realise that you and I, we may have got off on the wrong foot," he said with a chuckle, "So to reconcile, I've changed the terms of my offer."
The car had already passed so Ritsuki began walking, almost reaching the other end of the road before the man spoke again.
"Your father's sick, isn't he?" the boy whirled his head about, staring back blankly at the old man. Ritsuki stepped back and turned around.
"Yes, I know all about it. That Doctor Sadao lies to you too, you know?" he added with an air of cheekiness.
"What?" the boy stumbled back.
"Your father won't make it through the night, he's lost too much blood. Sloppy work, truly, he's likely to die from a stroke before sunrise tomorrow."
"T-That... that's not true!" The boy marched back up to the man and got up to the old man's face, "You're just saying that to provoke me. Are you still peeved from how I-!"
The boy's expression changed from defiance to one of comprehension, the curious old man's hazel-coloured eyes burned again for him to see. It was there that Ritsuki would grasp his position.
As a boy raised in theatre, he was well-versed in myths and plays, and many of them often featured or included Yōkai - spirits - in some manner. Ritsuki knew he could seldom trust the old man's word if that were the case.
"Who... who are you supposed to be anyway?" Ritsuki closed his eyes and faced away, he had to make sure.
"Not less in purple would I descend; and I can be both cruel and charitable." the boy mulled over his strange words as he saw the old man reach into his robe to pull out a scroll.
"It really depends on which one you choose, but that is not important now." he presented the boy with the scroll again, "Sign on this wavering piece of parchment, and tomorrow everything will again be quaint. Your father may yet live."
Weighing his options the boy exhaled heavily, if he was making a deal with a malevolent spirit it was likely he would later regret it. But if he should suffer for his parents to be happy; for Ritsuki the choice was obvious.
"What's your price...?" immediately he shifted his sights to the rolled-up paper the old man held. He then looked back up to see the spirit's face had turned from stoic to a crooked and dangerous smile.
"My price is your soul," he said simply and darkly.
"Alright," the boy's response was immediate yet still obviously hesitant, "If you can take father's pain away, I will sign your contract."
The man's smile darkened, and he gave the contract to the boy who took it gently.
Swiftly then, the old man dragged a tiny blade across Ritsuki's right thumb who yelped.
"Ah-!" Instinctively, the boy moved to place his bleeding finger inside his mouth but he was stopped.
"No, no, you should press your thumb right here; this deal shall be stamped in red from your soul's ink."
Ritsuki's breath hastened as his blood was smeared on the paper.
His vision stuttered as he looked back up at the old man's face who was smiling. His hazel eyes burned brighter than ever before.
"Very good, boy. I shall see you soon, Momota Ritsuki... my Kishu-no-Seishin."
"Hah-!" Ritsuki woke up with a start, then winced from a burning sensation in his chest as he fell to his side.
He peeked out from one eye to see the morning sun through the blinds, he did not remember how he got to his futon bed and he sighed.
"... A dream...?" he vaguely recalled the previous night's curious encounter with the strange old man, but everything after that he drew blanks.
Shaking his head and deciding to freshen up, he heard the front door open.
Exiting his room and into the main corridor of the house, he soon arrived to see to his surprise, both his parents walk in through the main door.
His father was on his own two feet unassisted with the brightest smile Ritsuki had ever seen. Akiko was smiling too, though hers was a bit more modest, it was clear she had not come to terms with his father's miraculous recovery quite yet.
Seemingly trying to cater to her husband's every need, she would ask to take turns carrying his bags.
"Father...? You're alright...?"
"Ha hah! Yes, I am good!" he bent down and placed his bags on the floor, straightening up he held out his arms and waved them, "Come on then!"
Ritsuki immediately ran across the corridor and jumped into his arms.
"H-how is this possible?" the boy asked with short breaths out of disbelief.
"No one knows...! Hah! Should have seen the doctor's face when they lifted my blankets, I've never seen someone more speechless." the old father gave a hearty laugh, "Here you go, on your feet."
Placing Ritsuki down, he turned to his wife, "Aki, I'll take our bags to our room and then cook up dinner. Can you prepare the bath for me? I'd really like it,"
"Of course," she nodded, the man bent down to kiss her on the cheeks then he was off.
When his father closed the door behind him as he entered their bedroom, Ritsuki frowned at his mother.
"What's wrong, Mother?" he immediately confronted, she seemed to have seen it coming, "Father seems to be well, they told us he may never walk again but there he went."
"It's not him I'm worried about, Ritsu." she shook her head.
"Then why are you sulking? You should be happy!" he pulled her into a firm hug as she exhaled, "I'll go prepare the bath, that way you can help Father in the kitchen."
The boy then ran out of the house and towards the nearby well.
Akiko shook her head, then went to their bedroom when she heard her husband's voice call for her.
"Why doesn't this stance have a ready guard?" Ritsuki steadily walked forward. He and his father were training in the garden like usual.
"You're baiting them," Giichi stated as he dried his hair with a white towel. He sat on the wooden veranda that overlooked the backyard.
Ritsuki's sword arm held the blade pointed to the ground behind him. His right hand on the tip of his scabbard, his stance was tall and collected; his stride was calm, just as he had been taught.
"You're looking to dodge their initial strike to counter."
"I... see..." the boy astutely noted.
His steady stride continued, then as soon as he reached the target, Giichi pulled a switch and a rolled-up tatami mat swung forward tied to a tree branch.
The boy had learned well, pivoting to his lead leg - his right leg - he strafed to the side just enough for his target to miss him. Drawing from his father's words his right hand reached for the pommel of his sword.
His grip then tightened and he leaned forward with his swing, he lightly squealed as his sword travelled upwards at an angle and he hit his mark.
Ritsuki would bisect the tatami mat clean in two.
He had followed through and cut the rope that held the mat's bottom end, he cracked a smile as he watched it bounce on the grass before he adjusted his stance.
Shifting to the same pose as before he stood straight and stayed still for a moment before he finally placed his sword away.
"Bravo, your strike was firm, well done!" his father cheered from behind with a clap, "Now for the next form.,"
"The 'Shisei-Tsuki'...?" The boy nervously asked with a chuckle.
"Yes, remember to free your mind of emotions, become like-" Giichi was interrupted by a knock coming from their front door.
Ritsuki's mother was out buying groceries so his father got up and signalled for the boy to carry on.
'Shisei-Tsuki'; he was told it was a family tradition, he could never get it right, but he would try.
He lifted the sword behind and above his head, imitating the crescent of a waning moon; and as he brought it closer to his body, he breathed out slowly to try and control his heartbeat.
He breathed in sharp and filled his lungs, then like a coiled spring he launched himself; this would be a personal best for a long while.
Commencing his steps as a dew drop fell from the lone tree in the garden, he pivoted on his lead heel with each strike. Swinging upwards with one hand in a stroke, both hands would then be employed to alternate the direction of the blade.
He had managed to swing his taichi three times before the falling dew drop could hit the grass.
He released the breath he had been holding, and his heart rate then began to hasten.
"That was it," he gulped then turned around, "I did it, I- Father...?"
Ritsuki frowned when he saw that his father had yet returned. Placing the tachi inside its sheath, he went inside the house, his tired legs a bit wobbly as he went up the wooden steps.
The veranda overlooking the garden led directly into the main corridor of the house, so the boy had an immediate view of the front door.
But what he saw concerned him greatly.
The front door was wide open, and his father was nowhere to be seen.