1996, Postwar Era

Okinawa Prefecture,

Masaki Shrine, Japan

Clack!

The bamboo plank sailed backwards as the bokken came down hard on it, reaching its apogee and racing back down as Tenchi hopped from one bamboo pole to the other.

Clack!

A week had passed since his conversation with Ryoko, and Tenchi's mind raced as it once more reviewed the conversation. Another leap, one which almost felt flimsy as the sandal he wore glided over the worn wooden surface beneath him. His heart skipped a beat, yet at the last moment he righted himself once more. A deal.

Clack!

"Free me by summer's end or never return." Golden eyes stared accusingly at him as the plank swung back towards his head.

Clack!

"Watch your feet Tenchi." Katsuhito warned, looking on with a bored expression. "A warrior keeps his awareness of everything around him at all times-the opponent before him, the invisible opponent slipping behind him, the rubble which seeks to trip the warrior laid out upon the ground. Tunnel vision is one of the fastest ways towards death."

Clack!

Hiji had been watching him, following him, and at times Tenchi had even spied the jurogumo from the shadows, red eyes glowing with hunger.

"If you're fortunate, perhaps you'll have died of old age before that ever comes to fruition." The gazes of youkai surrounding him, once warm and inviting, in the next moment cold and calculating.

Clack!

"Actions speak louder than words….Talk is cheap, Tenchi." A tired, dispassionate gaze, staring at him flatly as he'd boasted, promising for the hundredth time that he'd bring grit his teeth, growling, and lept, coming down hard on the plank with a yell.

CLACK!

His landing was poor, and the smooth rubber outsole of the sandal slid out from under him as his weight landed on his heel. "FU-" The youth went down with harsh curse and a painful crash, and Tenchi groaned, hot spots of pain stabbing into him from where the bamboo posts dug into his body. Above him, the bamboo plank reached its apogee, arched, fell back against its rope, and swung listlessly, its momentum dying as Tenchi glared at it.

The young man took a long, deep breath.

"You're too tense. Loosen up Tenchi. A warrior knows when to be loose and when to be taut-when to be guided by momentum and guide momentum. You are like a rock; tense, brittle, and who will break if thrown against a wall." Katsuhito approached him, bokken resting against one shoulder as he stared down at the teen, unamused.

Tenchi grunted.

"Up." The elder ordered.

Grimacing, Tenchi picked himself up. His body throbbed form how he'd fallen. He sighed, glowering at the wooden plank as he picked up his bokken once more.

Katsuhito raised an eyebrow. "Let's pause a moment."

"I don't want to." Tenchi said.

Both brows raised this time. "I insist." Said Katsuhito. It was not a request.

Clicking his tongue, Tenchi stormed off the field, leaning up against a pine with a tight expression. Katsuhito eyed him, offering the lad a bottle of water. Tenchi waved it away. Unperturbed the old man twisted the cap off his own bottle and drank deeply, leaving the boy to his thoughts.

"Achika promised too…and failed to deliver."

"The debt remains unpaid."

"Yen for your thoughts."

"It's nothing Grandpa."

"Lady problems?"

Tenchi flinched, then looked at his grandfather with an incredulous look. "What's that supposed to mean?!" He demanded.

"You're preoccupied. Like I've never seen you before. I can only surmise it must be a lady whose caught your attention."

"Yeah, something like that." Tenchi scoffed, folding his arms across his chest and staring down at his feet. For a moment he thought he saw a kodama, bobbing and weaving between his legs before trailing off towards his grandfather. It faded. Sighing, Tenchi took a breath. "Sorry." He grumbled. "I just-There was an argument with someone. Someone I thought I was…you know, close to I guess? And she just…" He sighed. "She brought some ugly truths about our relationship to light."

"And you're upset over it."

"Yes!"

"Do you believe she's right in these truths?"

"Yes-No?" Tenchi threw up his hands. "I-I don't know. She threw down this-this ultimatum and it…" He shook his head. "I don't know, I'm still stewing over it, I guess."

Katsuhito hummed, nodding his head in understanding. "What did she say?"

"Stuff like…I don't trust her. Not where she…not where she needs it most. That Mo-that others had said similar stuff-had given her lip service to her on her good side, but…whenever push came to shove and she asked for something, everyone…bailed, I guess."

"And was this 'something' a item or action you and these other people could legitimately provide her without negative consequence?"

Tenchi eyed his grandfather, then looked to the sky. Some sort of big bird flew high over their heads-maybe an eagle or a hawk with how broad its wingspan was. It glided easily against a cloudy sky that promised rain, and as it hit a gap of blue sky, for a moment it looked like it had three or more sets of wings. Eyes are getting bad. He thought, recalling his father's glasses. Man, I hope I don't start the third year with glasses…Kamikura will never let me live it down.

To his grandfather he said, "I don't…know. The thing she wants in theory isn't bad. It's…something that I promised her a while ago. Something that is easy to get." His mind spun as he tried to come up with a reasonable item. "A key-a key to my house."

Katsuhito's eyebrows shot into his gray hair, and he looked away for a moment, his mouth forming an 'o' of utter and complete shock.

Regaining his bearing, the man coughed. "This ah…this person must be…very close to you."

"You'd think that." Tenchi said, his grandfather's reaction going unnoticed as he thought how to word his problem to the elder without giving up who the 'woman' was. "And…well…I have my key. I can go down to a locksmith at any time. I can make a copy and I can give it to her, and…"

"She would be free to come and go as she pleased." Katsuhito deduced. "Placing you in a new step in your…relationship with this young woman." He paused, then glanced over at the youth. "She is a young woman, yes? Your age, not a teacher or working woman or someone too old to be dating a minor, yes?" Nobuyuki had never mentioned a girl in any of their discussions concerning Tenchi.

"Grandpa…" Tenchi flushed, but did not immediately deny anything. His mind raced for a new excuse to his hypothetical problem, the recognition that he might be getting in over his head not yet hitting him. "Yeah…she's…around my age. We've um…been seeing each other…on and off since I was…thirteen."

Katsuhito raised an eyebrow. "Really? You've known each other that long?"

The blush deepened, and Tenchi stiffly nodded his head. "We…normally see each other…around the end of summer-between when summer vacation ends and school begins."

"What's her name?"

Tenchi went white, and stiffly reached for the additional bottle of water. Katsuhito presented it to him, watching the youth carefully, and Tenchi gulped down half of it as he raked his mind for a name that was not 'Ryoko'.

One name came to his head, and squeezing his eyes shut, he slipped the cap back onto his bottle. "Kumashiro Sakuya." He mumbled. "Really grandpa…it hasn't even been anything serious-don't you dare tell Dad!" He jolted and glared at the older man, who looked at the teen smugly. "This conversation doesn't leave the training ground!"

Katsuhito raised his hands as if fending off a blow, a light chuckle raising from his chest. "Now now, don't be that way. I can keep a secret."

Tenchi glowered at the man, unconvinced by his grandfather's claim. Katsuhito gestured for peace. "Now if I am to understand this…you have been in an on-and-off relationship with Kumashiro-san, but now she wants to take it a step further and is asking for the key to your house. You've promised her she'd have it, but you've been having second thoughts. Is that correct?"

Still embarrassed, Tenchi looked away. "I…I guess." He grumbled.

"It sounds like you're nervous about taking such a huge step in your relationship." Katsuhito surmised. "Especially when you haven't even had a serious relationship with this young woman yet. You have not even introduced her to your father, which speaks volumes to your current relationship and your own uncertainty in it, and now she is leaping past say…second base and going straight to the Home plate."

Katsuhito paused, rubbing his chin. "Honestly Tenchi…it sounds like she's trying to take the relationship too far too fast. I would call that a…ah, what is it you young kids like to say…ah! A red flag!" The elder nodded. "I am hearing too many red flags in your problem Tenchi. You're second thoughts are natural, and if I am an honest man-which I like to think I am most days-I would say that you are well within your right in refusing to give her the key."

Tenchi sagged. Internally, he screamed. This was not the direction he'd wanted the conversation to go.

"What you should offer instead is to have her come by the house and meet your father. Formally introduce the two of them, so that your father can learn of the relationship and provide formal permission for Kumashiro-san to visit the house on a regular basis-it is his house, after all."

Tenchi sighed, closing his eyes as he fought to rub his brow. "Thanks for the advice…" He said dryly.

"I see you're still hung up on this." Katsuhito observed.

"Yes…"

"Too much to train?"

Tenchi winced, feeling his body throb anew at the thought of more training. "I want to."

"But can you?" Katsuhito countered. "Without growing distracted?"

Tenchi narrowed his eyes. "…Let's find out."

A look of amusement flashed across his grandfather's eyes. "Alright." He said, placing his towel and water bottle to rest against it and moving towards the small clearing that they used to spar in next to agility course. Tenchi followed quietly.

"Take up your stance." The two turned to face each other, resting their bokken upon the opposing individual's left shoulder. A gesture of respect to signal to the opposing side that they were sparring, not out for the life of the other.

Tenchi spied a familiar crow watching them. "Ready?"

He wants to see if I'll get the keys. Tenchi thought, and looked back at his grandfather with fresh determination. "Yes!"

As one, the two drew their swords back, then charged past each other with a yell, turning to face the other as they dove into their individual training stanza. Like a choreographed dance, the opposing blades dipped and angled, clashed, one rose, one swept to the side, and clashed. Tenchi's body worked as if on autopilot, his eyes seeing his grandfather's body language and adjusting to meet the sword which hungered for his life. A thrust was side-stepped, countered with a diagonal cut. The cut left him open, and the elder side-swiped. Block, step inwards, close distance, pierce towards chest. Side-step, block, vertical slice, backstep once, twice, gain distance and fall into a new stance.

Both had distance now, eying each other with measured expressions as one waited for the other to move first-to decide the next action of combat.

Tenchi, more aggressive than his grandfather-his youth made him reckless, Katsuhito would point out later-drew his sword hilt back to his chin, arms crossed by his ears, and rushed forward with the intent to thrust. Katsuhito's eyes flashed, and at the last moment he side-stepped, the bokken sailing past his head as the elder drove his wooden sword up into Tenchi's chest. "Death loves the impatient." He murmured.

Tenchi swore, feeling a red bolt of pain pour into his chest. They'd stopped wearing padding when Tenchi was fifteen-"pain makes the Teacher", his grandfather claimed.

Katsuhito stepped back, giving Tenchi a chance to recover. Tenchi leaned over, dry heaving as he placed his hands on his knees. "Not bad but…too distracted. You can do better." The elderly man rested his bokken against his shoulder. "Perhaps cleaning the shrine will have the added benefit of clearing your head."

"I can go again." Tenchi wheezed.

Katsuhito raised an eyebrow, and before Tenchi could react, brought his bokken down, the wooden blade stopping before it could smash into the teen's skull. "You cannot even defend yourself right now." The old man retorted. "Recover, stretch, and go about cleaning the steps. You have all summer yet."

Gritting his teeth, Tenchi looked away with a scowl, and the bokken slipped away from his head. "Yes Grandpa." He grumbled.

How do I get the keys?

The thought remained the over-arching dilemma in the boy's mind. I need to free Ryoko but I can't get them…The cave is a topic Grandpa won't give a millimeter on, and I don't know if I can beat him in a sparring match.

The young man swept the steps, his face curved into a scowl of concentration as, step by step, he worked his way from one side of the stone steps to the other, collecting dirt, leaves, and pine needles, dumping them to the next step, and repeating the process in the opposite direction.

It was monotonous work, and the day was only growing warmer as the sun slowly climbed towards noon. Katsuhito had sent him off with a broom and a ruck filled with water bottles, but had otherwise left Tenchi to his own devices, trusting the teen to get the job done at his own pace.

The lad had been at it close to an hour now, and had made it down to the fiftieth step. He'd taken a break already near the animal path leading to Ryoko's cave, and without thinking much of it, had watched kodama float around the trail. He'd experimentally reached out to touch one, and the little spirit had bounced off his fingers, giggling as it floated off further into the forest.

He'd sat like that for a time, sipping water slowly and watching kodama play, and had the moment ruined by a familiar croak. Hiji had come to watch him once more.

Tenchi resisted the urge to throw the crow the finger. He wasn't certain he wanted to explain to his grandfather how he'd picked a fight with a crow and fallen down the stairs.

And so with a sigh, the youth capped the bottle of his current water bottle, slipped it into his canvas ruck, and picked up his broom, sweeping once more.

But that does lead to an idea…why not get the youkai in on it? He wondered. They're here, they're active, and they're available. They want Ryoko freed too, right? Sure, they can't release her, but they can distract grandpa long enough that I could steal the keys.

Shoot, Hiji alone could probably steal the keys off his grandfather's belt and drop them at Tenchi's feet.

The two kitsune could certainly provide a distraction. Judging by yesterday's story, they could probably send his grandfather running all over the forest in search of the 'escaped demon'. Could wear him out, or at least send him on a big enough goose chase that I could find the keys inside the shrine or the administrative room.

But if Grandpa saw Kokonotsu…

He'd have the keys with him. Tenchi mused, stepping down a step. So that wouldn't work unless…

Would his grandfather open the shrine? To peek inside the cave? Make sure Ryoko was there?

If so, could I just…follow him in?

No…Tenchi Masaki, you are a lot of things, but 'sneaky' is not one of them.

But if say…a crow swooped down and stole the key ring…maybe heckled his grandfather into distracting him, getting the old man to chase him away…would he forget about the unlocked gate? Provide a long enough distraction that Tenchi could slip inside and get the sword?

He paused, then looked over his shoulder.

There was Hiji, watching him like a silent shadow, observing his every move.

Would he work with me though?

Never hurts to ask…

"Hey Hiji."

The crow said nothing.

"I…think I have an idea. On getting the keys. But…I think I might need your help. And Kokonotsu's. I'm not saying it's foolproof, but…would you be willing to help me if it free's Ryoko?"

The crow tilted its head to observe him, the gave two long, drawn out caws.

Tenchi raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, but I don't know what that means."

The crow cawed again.

"So does that mean you'll help me or…."

"Speaking to crows, Young Man? I was unaware Priests spoke the language of birds."

Tenchi screamed, almost falling over his feet as he stumbled forewords, climbing a couple of steps before wheeling precariously and brandishing his broom at the intruder. Someone had snuck up the stairs behind him.

The teen, bewildered and embarrassed, found himself staring at a young Western foreigner with short, slicked back blond hair. Dual colored eyes danced in amusement.

It was the foreign exchange student from school. The graduating third-year. His outfit differed-a crisp black business suit with a yellow tie rather than the high school uniform, but there was no doubting it.

Tenchi stared with a start, and without thinking, pointed. "It's you!"

"It's me." The foreign exchange student agreed.

"That guy from school! And the yakiniku joint!"

"Yes. That's you too, unless I'm mistaken."

"What are you-are you stalking me?"

The teen raised a golden eyebrow, looking at Tenchi in amusement. "Are you?"

"I live here!" Tenchi cried.

"Ah…that must mean you're a Masaki, yes? Of the Masaki Shrine?" The teen asked. "I'd come to pay my respects."

Tenchi fell silent, staring at the teen-his senpai, by all accounts-in a mixture of bemusement and embarrassment. "Ah…yes." Tenchi stated. "I'm ah…I'm Masaki Tenchi." He flushed, realizing how rude he'd been. The young man bowed. "S-sorry. You caught me by surprise. We don't normally receive guests to the shrine."

"No need to apologize." The young man dipped a small head nod, but did not bow. "I was the one who startled you."

Tenchi straightened, curiosity rising in him. "Did you come all the way up from Naha City to see this shrine?"

The teen hummed, a small smile on his face. "One might say that." He said. "I came to visit an old associate of mine before departing Okinawa. The Masaki Shrine happened to be along the way." His eyes gleamed. "Tell me, Masaki-kouhai, does that mean you're related to legendary hero of this place, the Heavenly Warrior, Yosho?"

The questions threw Tenchi off balance, who stared at the young man in surprise. "Well…yeah, I guess so." He rubbed the back of his head. "I mean…if you believe any of the legends, of course."

"Are you saying you don't?" The young man asked.

"Well…I mean, sure, I guess I believe the legends." Tenchi thought of Ryoko. "But I mean…I kind of have to I guess? It's the family shrine."

The westerner hummed. "Have you seen the sword that supposedly holds the demon than?"

It was like the stranger was intruding in his mind. "Well…no. It's…forbidden to disturb the sword or the demon." Tenchi admitted. "To do so could bring about the demon's resurrection."

"Is that so?" The young man asked. "You mean you haven't even peeked?"

Tenchi looked away. "I'm not supposed to. Besides, my grandfather has the keys."

"Your grandfather?" The young man's odd dual eyes were compelling. "And who is your grandfather?"

"Masaki Katsuhito." Tenchi replied without thought. "He's the one who owns the shrine. I'm just helping out for the summer before school starts again."

"Fascinating." The young man murmured. "He's still around, is he?"

Tenchi looked at the blond in curiosity. "You…know Grandpa?"

"We met once a good many years ago. I suppose I should not be surprised he's still around." The man flashed a bright smile, and Tenchi felt a strange knot form in his stomach, though for the life of him he could not understand why. "Then he will not let you peer into the shrine either?"

"Ah…no. Of course not." Tenchi said.

The man smirked. "Still selfishly guarding family secrets, I see." He murmured, crossing his arms and looking past Tenchi and up at the shrine. Perhaps even staring at Hiji, who was still cawing, screaming an alert call, one which signified the warning approach of a raptor. A predator.

A monster.

Yet Tenchi was ignorant to the calls of birds, and blind to the way the kodama around him, once so prevalent and at ease in the teen's presence, had fled in the presence of the newcomer.

"Devil!" Hiji screamed. "Devil! Devil! Devil!"

The young man smiled. "Tell me, Masaki-kouhai…could you lead me to the cave that holds the demon? I had heard rumor that the cave existed elsewhere, and that the shrine at the top is merely to honor the sword and the samurai."

Tenchi frowned. "I mean…" It felt rude to bring a stranger to Ryoko's cave uninvited. She wasn't a display piece. She was a prisoner-more than that-a person.

"Please, as your senpai, I implore you." The young man's eyes were hard, and as they met Tenchi's, the youth was irrevocably certain that this strange man with the blond hair and blue-and-red eyes would kill him if he refused. This strange man, dressed in a simple suit, thin and frail-looking, who stared up at him with death in his strange and unruly eyes and smiled that perfect smile again.

The day was hot, and only getting hotter.

And Tenchi felt as cold as ice. "Sure…" The youth said. "We-we're right next to the path. I-if you'll follow me?"

"Thank you Masaki-kun." That perfect smile again.

Tenchi didn't want to turn his back to the man. He'll cut me down and that'll be the end of it. He thought.

Sweat pooled down his back. His groin felt tight.

Swallowing and feeling like he might choke, Tenchi traveled back up the steps. Above him, Hiji made one final desperate caw before flying off, refusing to get any closer to the entity that had arrived at the Masaki shrine than absolutely necessary.

A crow flew off as Tenchi pulled back a shrub, revealing a well worn animal path wide enough for a single person. And as a tengu announced the arrival of a Great Evil, "Devil! Devil! Devil!" Tenchi finally realized what it was that was so off-putting about the stranger. It wasn't his foreignness, nor his rudeness in not introducing himself or the odd, sinister aura which now enveloped him. The man's smile. The smile had been too perfect-too flawless.

It hadn't looked real.

If anything, Tenchi realized, guiding an uncalled Devil to a dead-but-dreaming Devil Caller, it had looked like a snarl.

Above their heads, the clouds billowed. In one part of the sky, directly over a tree made holy, one cloud in particular grew black and pregnant.

A Storm of Chaos encroached on the horizon.

"Yo…"

"…s…o!"

"Y…sh..!"

"Yosho!"

Katsuhito stiffened. A voice. A familiar one-one which belonged to his closest companion.

"Yosho!"

"Funaho?" The elder man dropped the papers he'd been reviewing, rising from his cushion on the tatami floor as the voice of his rooted tree reached out to him.

"Yosho!" A wave of agony struck him-a psychic ricochet from damage inflicted on his own tree. An image. Fire.

Funaho was burning.

A keen, a scream, and Katsuhito found himself outside before his vision had even cleared, racing down the stairs and off the beaten path in the direction of his tree. Had he been a minute earlier, he'd have witnessed his grandson and a stranger disappear the opposite direction, yet his journey was empty of people and his thoughts were not of his grandson, but of his tree.

Somewhere nearby, a crow screamed over and over again, as if warning the inhabitants of the dawning fire. "Funaho, hang on!" He cried, and before him a plume of thick black smoke rose against a heavy gray sky.

Terror beat in his breast-terror akin to the fear he'd felt upon returning home and finding his first wife, Itsuki, murdered and Achika missing. Terror like that of Ryoko's attack on Jurai, the world around him burning and echoing with the psychic screams of dying treeships. Please not again. He thought. Funaho was a first generation Jurain Treeship, one capable of surviving not only the cold desolation of space, but also interplanetary battles and space combat. She'd not only survived the colossal battle against the Ryo-oh-ki; a battleship which had literally destroyed entire worlds-but had also extended her roots through the entire mountainside and into Ryoko body, keeping the space pirate catatonic as she was continuously drained of the gems near-infinite power. The gems themselves, even separate from the pirate and stored away in the Tenchi-ken, still seemed to hold some kind of resonance with the woman, and even separated from her body found a way to regenerate her, leaving an excessive amount of energy that left Funaho flourishing on a planet which should have ended her growth ages ago.

A little fire was not supposed to scare her.

She wasn't even supposed to be able to catch on fire-the molecular structure of Jurain Royal Trees was just different enough to make them fire resistant; Funaho alone had survived a forest fire from 1945 that had taken out half the forest and had threatened to burn down the shrine.

This isn't a forest fire. Katsuhito knew, and was afraid.

"What is it Funaho?" He panted, the tree's canopy rising before him, and with it, the choking havoc of black smoke. "What happened? What caused it?"

An image came to him. One which he could make no sense of.

Fire. Snake. Man. Cat. Habu-the only venomous snake-a pit viper-on the island.

The image repeated. Fire, snake, man, cat, habu.

Fire, snake, man, cat, habu.

"I'll need your help." The smoke was thick and blinding, and Katsuhito began to cough, his throat burning as he fought for oxygen. "I don't have Tenchi-ken. I'll need your support to fend off-" The man broke into a coughing fit, and his concentrationbroken, the illusion of an old man vanished, leaving a man half his age in his place.

The image returned to Yosho.

Fire, snake, man, cat, habu.

And with it, fear.

The man brought an arm over his face, reaching into the pockets of his robes and withdrawing the towel he'd been keeping moist to help cool him from the summer heat. He'd reached the base of the small pond which fed Funaho, and now dipped the towel in the water before tying it around his face. It made the smoke bearable, if only just, and the man crept down low, avoiding the worst of the rising smoke as he made his way forward.

Something appeared in the smoke.

Something appeared made of smoke. An illusion, he would later tell himself, a manifestation of his own fear and stress combined with the rolling plumes of smoke.

But in that moment, it sure looked real.

A cat. A massive feline-different from Funaho's distress beacon-had appeared before him, composed entirely of flame. It stood twelve feet tall, and stared down at him with smoldering red eyes. Its lips peeled back, and within its maw Yosho saw red tongues of fire. "Leave!" The creature thundered with a voice like snapping fire, both in and outside his head all at the same time. Two tails- two twin columns of smoke conjoined at the base of the feline's body, thrashed angrily, and for a moment Yosho feared it might pounce on him.

Yet Yosho was nothing if not a disciplined warrior. He glared at the beast, meeting its heated gaze fearlessly, and watching as the smoking red eyes narrowed in rage. "Not until…my tree…is safe." His voice was muffled and it was hard to speak through the smoke. "State…your business…demon!" A nekomata. Itsuki used to speak of them, then Achika. Achika claimed one lived in the shrine, and Yosho used to tease her that it was the shrine mouser. Achika had believed that story until her dying breath, bless her.

Now he wondered if he hadn't spoken a falsehood into existence.

"Your safety," The raging creature snarled. "what lies beyond will slay you."

"Did you…start this?" His eyes watered, and around him it seemed almost as if the long body of a serpent had come to surround them, its body so large and so long that the tip of its tail reached Yosho's waist.

More illusions.

"No. The Goetia did." The bakeneko sated. "Return to your home. Death lies ahead."

"I will not…leave Funaho behind." He rasped.

"Then you will perish with it." The apparition vanished, its body expanding, contracting, contorting until all the remained was smoke.

Coughing, Yosho pushed forward.

Something came towards him; a ball of flame thrice his size. Another day, another time, it would have been easy to avoid, yet now the smoke which surrounded him slowed him, the air choking him, blinding him, slowing his reflexes. Yet Funaho, even under duress, would not abandon him to death. A shield of energy appeared around him in a haze of white energy, contrasting against the black smoke and letting the flames beat harmlessly off the wing. A Light Hawk Wing-one of the primary defense networks gifted only to the first generation of Jurain tree ships.

Yet he could still feel the heat, and what Yosho felt was rage, cruelty, and hate.

"Oh?" Something emerged through the black smoke. A snake's head, roughly the same size as his own, and with a start Yosho recognized it as a yamakagashi, a snake native to Japan which got its venom from the poisonous frogs that consisted of its normal diet. Funaho's duress call once more rose in his mind.

Fire, snake, man, cat, habu.

Snake.

A trail of orange spots emerged along the side of its long body, and as it moved forward a black, forked tongue shot out, as if to taste him. "He was right. The Priest came running. How amusing." Anothernot-voice, like the nekomata. "And he survived thine flame. Peculiar, peculiar." The serpent fell back into the smoke even as Yosho raced after it.

Something came from his left-a weapon, a massive European broadsword-and the Jurain lept right, narrowly missing the harrowing blade as it sank to the earth. It split one of the stones leading to Funaho's trunk, and a cylinder of fire-like a red serpent-exploded upwards in hail of cinders. The broadsword rose-it had to have been as long as he was tall-and from the black smoke its owner emerged.

At first glance it looked like a man. A tall figure, dressed in a black frock coat, slacks, and vest with a red ascot-a style that dimly reminded him of the European envoys who had first started trade with Japan during the Meiji Era. It was tall-not as tall as the nekomata, but still well over eight feet, and that would have been the end of its inherent unearthliness if not for two key differences.

The first, was that it rode forth upon the body of a habu viper so large that the serpent alone could devour Yosho in one bite.

The second, and by far most distressing fact, was that the entity had at least two-perhaps even three-faces.

Fire, snake, man, cat, habu.

Yosho now understood the full meaning of the distress call. And somewhere, in the depths of his mind, a small piece of his sanity-the one that had cracked under Ryoko's attack on Jurai, had fractured with Itsuki's death and finding his daughter in a demon's cave, and which had begun to swell as if infected in light of first the nekomata and then the talking snake-began to scream.

By Tsunami, what was it?

What was it!?

He'd grown up on Planet Jurai, an envoy to his people. He'd spent time at the Galaxy Academy, meeting races of all sizes and shapes ranging from the familiar to the bizarre to sentient gas clouds, and called them peers. He'd experimented and seen experiments and projects conducted on creatures both man-made and not.

He'd called Ryoko a demon. Had labeled her one for her strange abilities and her cruel disposition. For her crimes and for her actions against his home.

He'd called the nekomata a demon for no other term to describe it, only that it was not of the world which he knew and as alien as Ryoko was to this planet, which it called home.

Yet this…

The talking snake from before-the yamakagashi, rested curled around a head that looked fused. Siamese twins. Yosho thought, and felt a bubble of hysteric laugher in the back of his throat. But that's not natural. Only one is human. Two faces stared at the world. On the right, the face of a man, his face European, and perhaps, at one time, handsome, now made hideous by the left. The left half was that of a feline-its fur black-not naturally, but as if charred-which glowered at him with burning red eyes. The two faces rested merged at the inner cheek bone, glaring at the world hatefully. They all had red eyes. The creature radiated a pulsing, black aura, and as the waves spread out, Yosho recoiled. It felt black. Black and cruel and malicious in a way he'd never experienced from another creature-not even Ryoko, who's destructive attack on Jurai and subsequent defeat had revealed a woman mentally bound and enslaved to another.

The yamakagashi uncurled around the conjoined twins, and Yosho realized it too was connected-its body appeared fused at the spine above the heads, and as the twin heads regarded him with hot-blooded hate, the creature yawned, displaying its long, curled fangs as it reset its jaw.

The cat spoke, and Yosho felt his hair stand on end. "A morsel of a sacrifice. I heard rumor that a great warrior dwelt here, yet I see before me a weak priest lacking spiritual discipline."

"Perhaps it is only that we caught him off guard." The serpent suggested. "He does not appear ready for combat. He lacks even a weapon with which to protect his beloved tree."

The entity tossed the broadsword at Yosho, and reflexively the Jurain lept away. It splashed heavily into the water; a large, tangible piece of metal the glinted red with the reflection of flames.

The cat laughed-a horrible yowl imitating a human's screech. "Look how he runs! A mouse! A tiny field mouse in priest robes!"

"He has a weapon now." The conjoined human head spoke for the first time, the voice clear, elegant, and made all the more worse by how kindly it was. "Pick up your weapon, Ser Warrior-Priest." He said. "You face Duke Aym of Hell, The Twenty-third spirit of the Ars Goetia, Commander of twenty-six legions of demons. I had been told a challenge most excellent awaited me should I set fire to that which could not be burned, and I would now know the name of the opponent who braves Hell's flames for a tree not of this world."

Funaho, please hang on. This close it was easy to speak telepathically with the tree. The water enhanced the resonance of the natural EM field produced by both Yosho and Funaho, and the two, already tuned to the same frequency since there initial Pairing, once again Harmonized to the soul song of the other.

"Hurry." Funaho sounded afraid. An emotion he'd not heard since the ship had first impacted the Earth's atmosphere so long ago. "It burns."

"I know. I will make this quick." He hoped. This was a rigged game-either Funaho fell to the fire or he passed out from smoke inhalation. The supposed Duke looked unaffected by the fires and the flames, which worried him further. If he didn't end it fast, both Yosho and Funaho would perish.

And Yosho would not abandon Funaho.

"I am Masaki Jurai Yosho, Prince of Planet Jurai, Priest of the Masaki Shrine which you now invade." He didn't know how he'd spoken without breaking into coughs. Discipline or bearing, either one. "Did the Devil Caller, Ryoko, summon you here?"

"I do not know this name." The serpent, which seemed to be the mouthpiece of the body, hissed. "The strongest of us, Our Lord, called me forth. Now pick up your weapon."

Grimacing, Yosho approached the sword, staring down at it and wondering if it might come to life. "My grace to you nears its end." The cat warned, its lips peeled back and revealing charred, burnt gums. "Either pick up the sword or die like the field mouse you are."

A hand raised, aiming toward him, and years of sleeping warrior instinct awoke all at once.

A vortex of fire left the Duke's hand, and Yosho dived forward, grabbing the hilt of the massive sword in a roll. The flames sailed over his head, and he felt the dim static of a Wing as wild fingers of red fire bounced harmlessly off the divine energy. He rose in a run, forgoing a war shout for simple speed, and found the habu rearing back to strike him. He stabbed at it, wielding the sword as if it were a naginata and grateful for his years on Jurai training with both regional and foreign weapons. The hilt was too short for him to get any kind of effective distance, but it served its purpose of driving the pit viper back.

A sneer from the Duke's face, and another sword materialized in the Goetia's right hand, coming down on him in a heavy-handed arc. Yosho dipped left, placing distance between himself, the habu, and the demon lord, only to raise the sword up in defense as that same blade raced back towards him at an angle.

Steel met steel with a clang that surged through the Priest's bones, and for a moment the man worried he might drop the blade. He lept back instead, onto one of the processing units from Funaho's old core used to help maintain the tree's structural integrity. Time and age had shifted its position in the soil, sinking it to an angle, and the Priest used it as a spring board, launching himself back at the demon as it recovered.

"So the mouse shows its teeth!" The cat head screamed, watching Yosho with hungry savagery as the habu slithered out of his range. "Or have I misidentified a rat?" With a speed that should not have been possible for a beast so large, the viper raced forward, and the feline face yowled as The Duke brought the sword down on him. Yet Yosho had always been inherently fast, and it was this speed he relied on now, dodging the swing on nimble feet and meeting the serpent as it slid pass him. The sword was large, bulky, and overweighted for one of his own stature, yet it still did the job as he brought the sword up and into the viper's passing side.

A hiss-from the wound or from the mount, Yosho did not know-but the creature retreated from him, drawing an aggravated snarl from the feline face.

"Rat it is." Despite the malice in the feline's voice, there was a dark smile on the human face, and to Yosho it seemed the human aspect was enjoying himself.

He's playing with me. The Jurain realized, watching as the wound on the snake dissipated before his eyes. He could kill me any time, and he knows it, but he wants to draw it out. He wants to have his fun with me before I collapse.

And him without the Tenchi-ken.

The man bore his teeth beneath the towel. It was already dry, and while it still blocked some of the smoke, he could feel himself wheezing, struggling to draw breath. The Duke raised his sword, and Yosho darted forward, leaping into his guard to strike at the demon, only for the viper to slip out of his range. The Duke brought his sword down, and sweating heavily Yosho lept backwards, landing in the water just out of the sword's range.

His breath was coming in heavy, wheezing pants now, his lungs crying out as he tried to fill his chest with air. I won't be able to keep this pace up. I feel light headed. The sword felt heavier with every passing moment, and knowing he was reaching his limit, his mind raced for a something, anything that would give him even the slightest advantage.

He grit his teeth. "I thought…you wanted…a challenge." He rasped, and felt the strain of his own voice weigh him down like a physical presence. "How…can you be…challenged…if I…can't fight you..on equal terms?" Spots were gathering in his eyes now. Large black splotches which blotted out half his vision. The sword lowered. It had grown too heavy to lift. "Rid me…of this fire…and I'll…" He was collapsing and he knew it. "I'll…"

"Yosho, so…ne…ing-!"

His eyes were drooping. The serpent drew near-the yamakagashi's head yawned open. He blinked and flinched, watching as the head reeled back from where it struck a Wing.

"Hang…one's com…"

A cool wind, gentle and yet freezing in the wake of hellfire's heat.

Air.

Blessed, clean air.

Yosho sucked in a deep breath and felt ice prick his lungs. He bent over coughing, and watched in stupefied amazement as below him, the water-made hot and steaming by the cruel flames-began to cool, a layer a white frost forming around his submerged hands.

I've died and don't realize it. Yosho thought, watching factorial patterns form beneath him.

He jerked backwards.

Something long and white-like an eel-had swum right beneath him, leaving in its wake a trail of ice.

Arms grabbed him from behind, pulling him up.

"Can you stand?" A voice, one he didn't recognize but oh so human. He looked up.

A kid. A kid dressed in a bancho uniform. Yosho blinked. He brandished a kai-gunto-a Japanese Army sword-in one hand, a vial between the fingers of the hand which supported him. Mutely, the lad steadied him, and Yosho buckled over, still coughing. A flash of black metal. There was a pistol holstered on the kid's belt.

A cat road on his shoulder. "Escape if you can." It said, looking at him with bright, intelligent green eyes. "We'll take it from here."

"Not…without…my tree." Yosho retorted, and staggering, pulled the broadsword back up in front of him. Even feint, he'd never released the weapon.

The bancho kid looked at him appraisingly, but said nothing, merely smirked.

"Damn. Of all the times to have a civilian involved." The cat grumbled. "I suppose it can't be helped though…We have a case to solve and for whatever reason that Goetia is our biggest lead." The cat lept from the bancho's shoulder. "Have the mizuchi put out the fire and get Hitokotonushi to blow out the smoke before it suffocates us all. The Duke will be hiding behind the fumes to give him the advantage."

The youth nodded and reached inside his jacket, withdrawing a glass vial. A strange, green gas shimmered inside it. With a practiced motion, the youth flicked the cork top off and aimed the open vial towards the smoke in a single smooth gesture, and Yosho felt a burst of cool wind, tasted pine trees and chill mountain air, and watched as leaves danced from the nearby trees. The leaves compiled and took shape, and the wind took a face, staring at him from the shadows of leaves before the entity-a humanoid creature made entirely of coniferous leaves-turned its attention to the fire.

"Mister, I'll tell you one more time-you should leave here. Goetia aren't to be trifled with, even by a priest."

Yosho glanced at the cat. He felt alive again. Invigorated. And above all, angry. "I'm not leaving the Holy Tree of the Masaki Shrine to a demon." He said. "Nor strangers, regardless of their good will."

The cat seemed to shrug. "There's no arguing a fool." He said, and turned to the Bancho. "Raido, keep him alive. Bad enough he became involved in this, but we can't have civilians dying on us from demon attacks. You know how that will look on your permanent record and the Herald of Yatagarasu will make a pin cushion of my hide."

Raido snorted.

Before them, the smoke was clearing. The water had turned to ice, and with it, something which looked like a siphon of water rose up, spraying water at the fires which yet bit into Funaho's trunk. Duke Aym circled once more on his habu, his gaze first perplexed, then intrigued.

"It seems the legendary Devil Summoner Raido Kuzunoha has interrupted my play!" The serpent hissed. "All the better. I fear I was growing bored with the Priest." Said the cat.

The man merely smiled.

"You have a name, Priest?" The cat asked.

"Masaki Yosho." There was no use hiding an identity right now. Not with a literal demon before him and a talking cat ordering him around.

"Like the legend?"

"Later."

The cat laughed. It sounded human. "Alright. Listen Yosho, I don't know how well you handle that sword, but Raido's not too shabby on the battlefield. Follow his lead and we should all get through this alive. Can you do that for me?"

"Only if I get an explanation afterwards as to what all this is about."

"That makes all of us." Before him, Raido slipped the vial back in his pocket, then brandished the army sword in both hands. Yosho watched his movements. The lad had only some rudimentary understanding of swordplay down. Inwardly, the warrior-priest groaned. Saved by a punk and a talking cat, now fighting with a kid who doesn't know his way around a sword.

Where the hell was his grandson amidst all of this?

A prick of sudden cold welled up in him, and Yosho's heart skipped a beat as he looked back towards The Duke.

Where was Tenchi?

With a silent snarl on his face, Raido rushed forward, any forethought of form gone in a blunder of undisciplined recklessness. The habu raced to meet him, and Yosho shelved his thoughts for later as he brandished his own weapon and joined the youth.

He would have to simply hope that his grandson was somewhere safe.

Comments of a Madwoman: Demons and Devils and Youkai grow restless. Upon the last vestige of the world, a King moves his pawns across the board.