Ritsuki had found his lighter and used it on the gas lamp, illuminating the dark poultry houses once more. Turning to the archway on the other end of the small farm, he spotted a silhouette.
"You..." the boy couldn't help but scowl as he marched up.
"Oh, is that hatred I sense inside of you?" the old man dryly chuckled.
"What you did to father..." Ritsuki began, he had grown enough in height to level his eyes with the old man.
"I cured his legs," he shook his head, punctuating his words with clicks from his paper fan, "Your people did the rest."
"You-!" the boy stopped himself from punching the old man's teeth in, "What are you doing here?"
"We had a contract," he reminded, Ritsuki closed his eyes as he exhaled.
"The contract's off, you didn't fulfil your end." the boy turned to walk away.
The old man pulled out the boy's contract and opening the scroll he chuckled.
"This deal shall be stamped in red from your soul's ink," he reminded and the boy turned around, "Our contract still holds; I pulled your father out from being crippled, and everything that happened after was not part of it."
Ritsuki remained silent, biting back his emotions, he scanned for a weapon to use and found a shovel they used for the manure.
Rushing over to grab ahold of it, he took it from its nail hanger and immediately swung for the old man.
Hitting nothing but air the boy fell to the ground and grunted. As he made to push himself up, Ritsuki felt a hand rest on his upper back.
Searing to the touch, the boy tried to cry out in pain but his voice betrayed him.
"Momota Ritsuki. In time, you'll find out why I've given you this power," the old man came up behind his ear, "If it's vengeance you seek, you shall find plenty."
"But for now..." releasing the boy from his searing clutches, he disappeared into the night as soon as his hand was lifted.
"Hah...!" Ritsuki grunted on the ground, he heard Akai wailing, tugging on the straps attached to the walls of his stable.
"A-Akai, it's alright," he tried to reassure his friend, padding his back his skin felt fine despite the burning sensation.
Getting to his feet Ritsuki's breaths became wild. Still, he heard the Akai thrash about,
"Hah- I am angry too, Akai. But now we must remain calm-!" his voice hitched as he coughed out a cloud of black smoke.
"Gah-!" Ritsuki grunts as he fell to his knees.
Everything got quiet for him, and he started to feel light-headed when his tongue turned dry.
Soon, black smoke began to below from his nostrils and ears and his hair began to catch fire.
"Gaahhh! Aaaahhh-!" the boy screamed in agony to the ceiling, fire erupted from his mouth and his eyes sunk into his head, leaving them hollow.
Akai began to freak as well, finally tugging free of his strap he broke off his wooden brace and was immediately beside the wailing Ritsuki.
He continued to scream as his flesh burned away; first his head, then his body, then his arms and legs.
His clothes somehow remained, except the wooden hanya mask he dangled on his belt which seemed to fizzle away.
It was clear where the dramatic wooden depiction of the vengeful spirit had gone when the young man's screaming ceased.
Two ivory horns protruded from his forehead, and the skin on his face was flayed away to reveal his skull which basked in a gleaming fire.
His canine teeth were elongated and they protruded like an ogre's. A frightening and fitting visage for-
The Spirit of Vengence.
"You sure this is the right way...?" A large and heavy-set man asked his subordinate.
"I'm positive, boss. That insufferable brat lives up this road." his voice was shaky from his excitement, and his grip twitched on his kusarigama.
"Hmm, very well..." he signalled to the rest and a dozen men came forward and over the camphor log that lay across the dirt path, "Cover your partner's rear,"
"We're finally doing this...?" one bandit chuckled.
"This should teach him a lesson for paralysing Lieutenant Nomura's body."
"Pipe it down..." the boss had ordered, settling his large spiked iron club to the ground, "We're here to beat the boy and nothing more, you can't teach someone a lesson if they're dead."
"Yes, boss," they collectively nodded.
Then one of their trackers began to sniff the air, lowing his blades he looked up.
"Do you smell that...?" he turned to his brother who was also a tracker.
"Is that fire? But it's the middle of spring..." the younger brother mumbled.
Then from the corner of their eyes, they saw a flash move behind the trees before vanishing suddenly.
"What the...?" The crazed bandit reeled his head, his smile faltering slightly.
"Hmm..." the boss took up his kanabō and adjusted his stance, "Boys, be on your guard."
They immediately got alert and every individual spread out in a circle, protecting each other's rear.
"What the hell was that...?" one of the trackers gulped.
Every member of the group became increasingly on edge about their situation, scanning wildly at the tree line.
Then without warning, a crash erupted behind them. Every bandit whirled around with their weapons in hand to catch sight of something they could never expect.
"By all that is sacred..." the older brother uttered.
The bandits beheld and shuddered at the horned crimson steed, sparks of fire flew from its fur and its skeleton appeared across its body as a shadow cast from a light within.
Atop the crimson steed were a rider, a blazing demon with horns, and ivory tusks; flayed and flaming, his glimmering eyes were piercing yet hollow.
Basked in gushing orange flames, his left palm rested on the lengthy blade on his hip.
"Hm-m-m-m-m..." They heard a raspy hum echo from the demon as his hollow eyes shifted, turning slowly to regard every bandit with his silent judgement.
His right arm was raised into a fist held level with his eyes, the spirit's slow and rigid movements were reminiscent of an actor in traditional theatre.
"Hah-huh-!" the terrified crazed bandit had tossed the blunt end of his kusarigama toward the rider, his fear had spurred his action.
Without even looking, the burning horned demon caught the chain, the iron glowed a dim red from his bony grip.
Snapping his head towards the crazed bandit, suddenly the demon pulled with immense strength before the man could release his grip on the weapon.
"Yahh-!" his squeal was pitched and frightened. His arms would grind on the gravel before he slid to a halt just in front of the demon, the chains made to wrap around his body on his way over.
The trackers turned helplessly to their big boss who seemed only impassive.
They figured his silence to signal his intention to do nothing, so they turned back to the chained-up crazed bandit.
Looking up after he winced from the friction burns of his forearms, the crazed bandit shrunk under the empty gaze of the flaming demon.
Then after a long and uncomfortable silence, the rider dismounted and seared the gravel with his steps. Turning back to the crazed bandit on the ground as he approached.
"P-please, I-I'm sorry, I-!" pulling on the chain, the demon lifted the man to level his eyes and scowled.
"Daitō Kakichi," the bandits were shocked to hear the demon's voice, he spoke in a raspy whisper yet they could all hear him loud and clear.
"Son of Yasushi, your sins are innumerable." pulling the sharp end of the sickle to the terrified bandit's face he seared his cheek, "Vengeance has found you unworthy to plea..."
"W-what...?" the older tracker turned to the boss who only frowned. They failed to notice that one of the bandits in the group bugles his eyes and gulped in revelation.
The crazed one begins to cry in pain as he felt his face burn from the proximity of the demon's skull.
"Aaghh... Aahh...!" his face melts away, and the falling pieces of flesh combust in flame before they reach the ground.
Finally, and with a mighty yank, the chain turns bright red from the demon's fire and the man disappeared in a terrible blaze.
The spirit stood completely still as the dim red chain of the kusarigama collapsed to the ground beside him.
Then much to the bandits' surprise, the horned demon began to dance. Keeping the theme of his movements while he was on the mount, the spirit's dance was evocative of traditional dances in theatre.
His movements were slow as he raised his arms to the side, clutching the kusarigama and inciting acute rattles from the scalding chains.
The bandits were too afraid to move as they watched the rider's crimson steed occasionally spew flame through its nostrils.
Then suddenly, before they could react, the demon dashed to the bandit who had gulped. The rider seemed to just float above the ground on his way, his legs barely moving.
"Fujino Satoru..." it whispered, the demon seeming to tower over the man who progressively shrunk under his scrutiny, "Son of Seishi, your sins are innumerable..."
Mustering his courage, Satoru yelled as he drove his spear through the rider's abdomen. The long iron tip tore through the linen fabric of his clothes without resistance.
Yet the demon seemed unfazed, sparing a glance down to inspect the spear lodged inside him, he slowly lifted his hollow eyes much to the man's fright.
Pulling on the base of the spear, the rider forced the weapon completely through his body and out the back, bringing the bandit to his knees in the process.
"P-please-!" but before he could plead the rider grabbed the man's jaw and forced his burning fingers into his mouth as his grip tightened.
"B-boss...?!" one of the trackers shakily turned, "W-what do we do...?"
"Gah-aah-!" the gagged bandit began to kick and punch, trying to release himself in vain.
"We..." the large man lifted his chin and steeled himself, "There is nothing we can do here, just..."
The humbling words of their big boss, who was always tall and proud, struck down any hopes of retaliation among the group of bandits. Now, they were left at the mercy of the demon's vengeful fire.
"Hyaahh-!" and with one final cry of agony, Satoru too burned away. The rider stood completely still, and appeared to contemplate who else he would burn.
Then the horned demon suddenly turned around and lifted his hand, pointing to the big boss.
"Bunzo Masashi, son of Hanzo..." Its hollow whisper betrayed any emotion, and the demoralised bandits turned to their boss, powerless. "Leader of the Sinners Few... How do you plea?"
Then to their surprise, Bunzo tossed his iron club to his feet and kneeled,
"Strike me down if that's your wish, flaming one, but spare my men..." He bowed slightly forward, exposing the back of his neck.
"Eh!? B-but boss-!?" the older tracker studdered.
"Save it, Fukita, take the others and leave. I want you to lead them in my absence..." he ordered solemnly without turning up to face his subordinates.
They felt a warm gust of wind wash over them and looked up to see the burning demon had approached them, bony hands resting on the pommel of his blade.
Despite the gushing flames and his unnatural movements just moments before, now the demon's stance was firm and immaculate; as if he was versed in the art and tradition of the blade he wielded.
"You have pled guilty with honour, very well... I shall make this as painless as..." the demon's whisper hitched and his stance faltered, "Hah-!"
The tracker brother and the nearby bandits could vaguely see the flames begin to flicker.
"Huh...?" the kneeling boss looked up as well just in time to see the rider stumble back.
"No... no... no... no! NO!" the voice of a young man cried out overlapping with the demon's voice, the skin on his face almost completely returning.
Churning our inhuman sounds of what they assumed to be anguish, the rider snapped his fingers to call for his horned mount who immediately rushed over to pick him up.
Galloping over the trees of the forest, the bewildered bandits could do nothing but watch as the spirit rode away into the night.
Blinking away the blur in his eyes, Ritsuki felt himself lying on a rather hard surface.
Groaning as he pushed himself up he began a subconscious and desperate probe for water, his throat felt like it had been dry for days.
Fortunately for the boy, he found that a series of cups had been arranged neatly beside him, he could see that he had been lying on a mat on top of a stone floor.
"Dear... goodness..." Ritsuki began to gulp down multiple cups worth of water, he had drained half of them before he could have the mind to take note of his surroundings.
"Where...?" he was under the roof of an open shrine, beside him were weathered offerings of fruits, vegetables and letters. A stone pavilion fenced by redwoods, the young man's concern grew.
"You're finally awake..." Ritsuki heard a gruff voice call out from behind the altar.
"Who's there?" he quickly got to his feet, and instinctively he reached for a weapon but found no blade on his hip.
He took notice of a broom beside the altar, so the boy took it without hesitation. Walking around the pillar, Ritsuki would knit his brows curiously at the sight.
"You were searching for this...?" There was a man sitting cross-legged on a red mat.
He looked to be in his mid-thirties and his raven hair was styled into a high ponytail. He idly scratched his stubble as he inspected Ritsuki's blade.
The man took note of the ornate handle; the muted yam-coloured straps over the ivory menuki, his eyes went to the chrysanthemum-shaped guard where he gave a deep sigh.
He couldn't help but admire the narrow golden lines which weaved through the cold steel of the damascened chatoyant blade; a masterful article of material and skill.
"Nagamitsu Tachi..." The man said with a curt huff, "I can recognise that old geezer's work anywhere... How'd you get this?" he suddenly turned to Ritsuki.
The man's abrupt inquiry startled the young man a little, Ritsuki gulped his cup before he answered.
"It's- um... a family heirloom," he said with a firm nod.
"Heirloom, you say...?" The man narrowed his eyes before he took the blade's sheath and handed it back to the boy, "We'll here you go, do try not to get her rusted; she's a beaut."
Pushing himself up to his feet the man began to pack his things. It was then Ritsuki noticed the two swords of equal length on the man's waist.
Along with the discovery, the young man came to the realisation that this man must have been the one to place all those cups of water for him; How would he know Ritsuki would wake up so thirsty?
Narrowing his eyes, the young man reached for his blade's handle, ready to defend himself.
"Pardon me, but... who are you?" Ritsuki's question seemed to amuse the man.
Silence hung over them for a moment as the man chuckled.
"You may call me Niten Dōraku," the man turned to regard the boy with an honest yet awkward smile, "And I'll tell you that everything that happened last night: It was real..."