Note:
Flashbacks and thoughts in italics
I do not condone or encourage any behaviors in this story. It is simply a fictional story.
"The Art Of Water"
CHAPTER 9
Blades and Bamboo Shoots
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Time Skip: 6 months
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Miwa leapt through the air, lemongrass swaying underfoot. Blades, she let fly towards her target, the sword sharpening to cut the bamboo shoots in her line of sight. Here's the thing, her sword was unlike any other. It was neither a katana nor a Rapier, which is lethal and thin but lacking in strength. Yet she doesn't deny that her sword can be similar to those. When push had come to shove, Katana had been her teacher throughout. Without a doubt, Kasumi thought she would miss it, but this growth spurt of cursed vigour gave her no time to muse over that. Her schedule was hectic. She had been learning, mastering day in and day out. Her hurricane-like cursed energy did not have a weird name, but the first time she pronounced it got memorable as it twisted her tongue, causing the people in the training field to suppress snorts at the mishap.
Her sword Akira was an explosion of zing, a strength that could move mountains, except the one that had been sedentary over her shoulders from the day she became its owner. Just like her Katana, it had a grace to it. But the surprise here is that it has a personality to boot, way more poise and fluid than any other sword she had ever beheld. Every time she swished the blade, tapping into her power source, her orbs glinted with an intrigue yet to subside after all these months. Remember, this is not a simple mechanical swing. The steely sparkle danced like waves stirring in a storm, charging energy from a sacred cause dozing beneath her skin. This sword, her auspicious curse, was Water.
Each time, she felt like a child who had been gifted her favourite toy on her birthday. This sense of irresponsible silliness that came along with it had made the experience a guilty pleasure, especially that one time she was reminded of Kill Bill slashing with Hattori Hanzo. In the state of heroic pretence, she had clumsily tripped over a raised stone like a toddler. Thankfully, her comrades held her up before she could bleed to death that day. The rush of humiliation that hit her at once made her face steam. People were unable to distinguish if she was blood bathed or not.
In her position, Miwa did not expect to be spoiled. Good grief, she never had to. Because training to become the venerated wielder of Akira to assume the mantle of power was fire and brimstone. She had been in personal hells before, but never one like this. She had not once experienced physical pain like she did during these past six months. If this is how the daily grind is in every second clan, Kasumi will bow down by Kamo's feet and ask him to bless her with some tutorial to live through this until it's over. There had been many dawns, more than Kasumi would like to admit, where she woke up wishing it was all over, imagining she didn't have the noble blood in her veins in the first place, regretting everything from once she had stepped foot in that jinxed cemetery.
Whatever the cost, at the end of the day, Kasumi will undergo this in silence. There's no way she'll let the laziness get the better of her at this critical moment. After taking a big puff of air to fill her mouth, Kasumi exhales. Her shoulders dropped, her abdomen hurting from exertion. She gripped the sleeve of her kimono. Not to wipe the sweat on her hands, given that it wouldn't be necessary. Especially if she's going to get sopping wet. Realistically speaking, Kasumi doesn't know how to pull it off without getting soaked like a cat on its first bath. Yasuragi put it like it was the plainest feat to nail. Seriously, what else did she expect from a man who could make it thunder with every footfall he made. She took two strides back before thrusting her right foot to the ground and twisting her body for a spinning kick. Jets of water rose from her outstretched hands, cleaving the rougher, grainy stones into pieces with controlled pressure. And on a side note, the tree behind them.
She overdid it. Aw shucks, not again! "Ahh. Kasumi-chan." The tree reeled to kiss the grass with a bark-cracking crunch. "Now you have to carry it back home." A deep whine chimed from the peak of the hills. Her breathing staggered. Doesn't he have anything else to do than follow her around to remind her of her shortcomings? That's right, it was her punishment for cutting trees. Fun fact: bamboo is not a tree. After she wrecked a whole slew within the months gone by, she was forbidden from touching a tree. Cutting was off-limits! It was an incentive to get more grip on her cursed energy. This is acceptable. The worst-case scenario is not even house arrest. However, this one sounds reasonable, as long as the energizer bunny hanging upside down from the tree agrees to help her instead of staying right where he is for the rest of the day. His tongue stuck out to mock her. "Why that look on your face? Still butthurt over the other day, little miss cranky pants?"
This—! She gritted her teeth, cross-popping veins surfacing on her temple. Had she known it was impossible to climb the within sunset, she wouldn't have gone with him. They couldn't even reach halfway up the hills before darkness descended in the woods. That was when she knew she got pranked. He had asked her to go with him to see the sunset from the mountains, only to trick her. To top it off, he snuck away while she was not looking, leaving her stranded in the forest. So, clearly, she is, granted that she had gotten literally butthurt from rolling down the hill in the dark. It's a surprise she didn't get injured aside from a bruised butt and some minor cuts. She'd only ever recollect that incident with dread. The clan had to divide a search party to find her considering this bitch had gone on his merry way to an amusement park without telling anyone who she had been with or where she was. And what was his excuse?
"I told you it was an accident. I forgot you were alone. I said sorry, didn't I?" Like a sorry would suffice! She was the one who had to hear an earful from Himawari, who kept strangely mumbling in between that Kasumi must be taking after her uncle. Miwa could never fathom how a responsible, sensible man like her uncle Yasuragi could have had a son like Yasha, a crazy goofball, apart from being a Satyr in the body of a human.
"Carry them for me. Will you?" She grumbled, squinting up at Yasha. The reason why he had forgotten is simple. Yasha had a Nature cursed technique, meaning he could grow a forest with a thumb's snap. Forest magic! He could make the curling plants straighten to his will, even have an entire ecosystem thrum to the beat of his heart if he wanted. This is why Kasumi is wary of Yakushima's woods. The forest was Yasha's playground.
The branch on which he clung lowered to let him roll into the soil. He stood up, flashing Miwa a smile full of teeth. "Why not? I always help my sisters carry firewood." When you think about it, she shouldn't be a moaner over this. As the "heir to the throne," as her friends and mentors had beaten into her head, Kasumi is expected—she is obliged to be brave and do more than just sniffle and sweat. Oh. She almost missed mentioning how her fear of darkness, or in encyclopedia terms, nyctophobia came back in full swing after that event. Heck, whatever! She is ready to beg if he refuses to help. Carrying the load after she drained herself of her strength to use cursed energy sounds like a crappy idea. "But on one condition." There it is. Yasha liked to torture her, test her patience every chance he got.
What is it that he wants this time? "You have to go fishing with me." Is that all? Heaven forbid that he raises the bar. Fishing is an easy task when you have a cursed technique that is literally water. All it involves is her touching the water to push the fish to the banks, flapping fresh. Yasha liked a particularly long, kaleidoscopic fish in a creek spilling down the north. The last time she caught it, his eyes had glistened gold, slinging it in his arms, guffawing and weighing it bridal style, saying: "My beautiful dinner." Kasumi had responded, blinking, unable to feel anything at that point. Not even cringe. Not being an expert at such actions, she wondered if that was what mania looked like. And with her incredibly biased viewpoint, she confirmed that it is.
"Today, I saw a delicious recipe on YouTube. Let's try it." He went on with hands behind his head as they sallied north.
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Returning from fishing and changed out of her hakama in her room, she heard a knock outside. She dried her hair, sitting on a stool. Her door opens, and the person who entered turns to her locking it behind. "Orange is asking me to go with him to the city tomorrow. He's been annoying me the whole day." Her twin brother sits cross-legged on the floor, back against the floorboard of her bed, an arm bent to prop his chin.
"Go along if you want it to stop. He's pretty persistent." Kasumi advises, snickering.
"Oh. You don't have to tell me. I know." His gaze was glued to his phone, searching for something. Miffed, she tosses a pillow at him, which he catches without looking and sets on the bed gently. About a minute later, smirking, he flung the screen at her face. Kasumi's forehead puckers from the sudden light and sound in the faintly lit chamber.
A video was playing. In it appeared Yasha's screwed-up face. He was on a rollercoaster, howling and swearing at the people who operated it at the top of his lungs, shrieking to threaten them. There were only two possible reasons why others near him hadn't thrown him out to elevate their moods—One, they couldn't. And two, they were too busy screaming themselves. Yet, her cousin's voice stuck out amidst the rest like a sore thumb. It was high-pitched. Even the girl beside him couldn't compete.
"You went with him?! I thought you were getting your stuff from the dorm."
"I wasn't." Katsuki shook his head. In the soft glow, his mane appeared black. But it's actually a dark shade of green. His eyes gave away his roots. The strangest silver like Himawari's. A foreseeable resemblance. "Guess what? Yasha had never been to an amusement park before." Like her, he also had the clan's insignia, contrastingly on his back extending to the scruff of his neck, hidden by the turtleneck.
She tilted her head, surprised at the new information. "Really?" Mizuki had it under the calf of his right leg. Both had surfaced on their bodies the same day she got hers, the day Akira, the curse that guards the Ashiyas, possessed her.
Biting a knuckle, Katsuki chuckled. "Yes, dumbass."
She snorts, playing the video again to burst out laughing. "Oh, my god. I almost feel bad for staying mad at him after this."
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Author's Note:
The forthcoming chapters will have short descriptions of the events or actions that led up to the time skip.