Interlude #2: The Temp

"Musashi!" Yep, there she goes. Little Kunou, a brown and tan blur of nine tails, making a beeline for me the second the door to the sitting room creaked open. You'd think a kid with that many tails would trip more often, but she's surprisingly coordinated. Yasaka-sama, her mom, is just standing there by the low table, looking all elegant and amused, like this is just another Tuesday. Which, knowing Kunou, it probably is.

"Hello, Princess," I say, keeping my voice even. Gotta play the part. Predictably, Kunou launches herself into my arms the second I'm within range, all tiny limbs and soft fur nuzzling right into… well, you know. Lasts about two seconds before the realization dawns on her. Cue the dramatic lip wobble.

"Kunou!" she declares, all of maybe eleven years old but with the commanding tone of a seasoned general. Like just saying her name is supposed to magically fix my social faux pas. "Yeah, yeah, Princess… Kunou," I amend, giving her a little squeeze. Honestly, you'd think I'd learn by now. Nope. The pout just deepens, her little brow furrowing in concentration. Meanwhile, Yasaka-sama lets out this soft, melodic laugh that just adds to the whole scene. Honestly, kitsune kids are a trip. All that fluffy energy and tiny demands. Still kinda endearing in a chaotic sort of way.

"I'm so sorry about my daughter, Musashi-chan," Yasaka begins, though the barely concealed twitch of her lips betrays her amusement. Yeah, she knows she can get away with it. It's not exactly a secret that I have a soft spot for the little whirlwind. Plus, let's be real, I was starving and desperate for work. Turns out, being a skilled swordswoman doesn't exactly pay the bills in this day and age. Thankfully, Yasaka-sama saw something in me, otherwise I might have just faded into obscurity, another relic of a bygone era.

"She's no trouble at all, Yasaka-sama," I reply, giving Kunou a gentle pat on her head, "but I would prefer to avoid the… enthusiastic corrections from Miss Head Maid. So, for the sake of my eardrums, I'll stick to a more formal address for our young princess." Kunou, still nestled in my arms, seems to consider this pronouncement with a thoughtful frown, her nine tails swishing ever so slightly.

"Whatever! When are you gonna teach me Kendo!" Oh boy, here we go. The usual spiel.

"Princess, I'm sixteen and mostly self-taught," I explain patiently, trying to steer the conversation away from my non-existent teaching credentials. "I have absolutely no ability to properly instruct someone as young as you in the art of the sword. Your mother here could get you the finest tutor in all of Kyoto, I'm sure."

"But I want you, Musashi!" Kunou insists, her little voice filled with determined conviction. "You're the reincarnation of a real legend!"

I sigh internally. As if I needed the reminder. "Kunou."

Yasaka-sama's voice cuts in, the playful warmth gone, replaced by a cooler, more authoritative tone. "Kunou. Do not think that because Musashi-dono is kind to you means you have license to bother her."

Kunou's fluffy ears instantly droop, and she shrinks back in my arms, suddenly looking very small and contrite. (Aww, she looks like a kicked puppy. So cute!)

Right on cue, a sharp knock rapped against the sliding door behind me. "Enter," Yasaka-sama announced, her usual serene tone carrying a hint of something else today.

The door slid open to reveal her silver-haired attendant. Another fox yokai, I noted, with two elegant tails swaying behind her and piercing, sharp-angled blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. "Yasaka-sama," she began, her voice crisp and formal, "those fools calling themselves heroes have been spotted again within our territory."

Yasaka-sama sighed, a delicate pinch appearing between her eyebrows. I totally get her frustration. Those self-proclaimed "heroes" are just… ugh. So full of themselves, strutting around like they know anything about what it actually means to be a hero. And the fact that they keep trying to recruit me? Seriously creepy. Like they can't take a hint or something.

"Very well, let's go speak with the elders," Yasaka-sama says, rising gracefully to join her attendant.

"But Mama! You promised we'd go for a walk today!" Kunou's ears and tails droop dramatically as she watches her mother prepare to leave.

"Now, now, don't be like that, Kunou," Yasaka says, offering her daughter a gentle smile. "Someday, you will come to understand the weight of my duty. And I can only hope that I've done my job well enough that you don't feel it nearly as heavily as I do." With that, she gives Kunou's head a soft pat and follows her attendant out of the sitting room, the sliding door closing quietly behind them.

Seeing the poor little fox spirit sulk like that tugged at something in my chest. Family duty, huh? Even yokai royalty had their burdens. I walked over to Kunou and gently patted her head. Her fur was surprisingly soft. "I know I'm no replacement for your mama, kiddo, but how about we still go on that walk? Just you and me?"

She looked up at me, her eyes still a little watery, and sniffled, rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her pretty miko outfit. After a moment, she nodded, a small "yeah" barely audible. Then, she reached out a tiny hand for me to take, her nine tails giving a little hopeful swish.

As she led me out of the estate, her grip surprisingly firm for such a small hand, I asked, "Alright, Princess Kunou, lead the way. So, where are we taking this walk of ours?"

As we wandered through the dappled sunlight of the local forest, the air filled with the chirping of unseen birds and the gentle murmur of the nearby river, Kunou seemed to be enjoying herself. Every so often, a friendly yokai would pop out from behind a tree or float down from the branches, their faces lighting up with joyous greetings for the young princess. Kunou, in turn, would offer a polite nod or a small wave, her earlier sadness seemingly forgotten.

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the rustling leaves and the flowing water. Then, I noticed Kunou's gaze fixed intently on my chest. She'd been looking for a little while now, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Is there something on your mind, Princess?" I asked gently, breaking the quiet.

The question that tumbled out of her mouth next caught me completely off guard. "Do… all strong women have big boobs? You and Mama are two of the strongest women in the territory, and both your boobs are big. Will mine get big when I get stronger?" She then looked down at her own still-developing chest with a thoughtful, almost scientific, expression.

What the hell was this kid asking me right now? Seriously?

"Umm, no, sweetie. I don't think it has anything to do with strength," I replied, trying to navigate this unexpected line of questioning with as much grace as possible. "Your mom and I just… have the right genetics."

"What's 'jeanethics'?" Kunou asked immediately, her brow furrowed in innocent curiosity.

Oh, for crying out loud. Eleven years old and already diving into the complexities of… well, that. This was going to be a long walk.

Thank the Kami for short attention spans. Just as I was mentally preparing a heavily censored, age-appropriate explanation of… well, that, Kunou's head snapped up, her nose twitching like a curious little fox.

"What's that smell?" she exclaimed, her earlier line of inquiry completely forgotten as she started sniffing the air with exaggerated movements. I took a deep breath, trying to discern what had caught her attention, but my human nose detected nothing out of the ordinary – just the earthy scent of the forest and the faint floral notes carried on the breeze.

"I don't smell anything, Princess," I replied, shrugging slightly.

"Yes, you do!" she insisted immediately, her nose still working overtime. "It smells good… but bad at the same time. Like a fruit that just started rotting. But there's also this really pretty but strong scent. It's weird!" Her nine tails swished back and forth, a clear indication of her intrigued agitation. Rotting fruit and pretty flowers? That was a bizarre combination. My curiosity was piqued despite myself. What in the world had caught her sensitive yokai nose?

She abruptly changed direction, pointing a small finger southward and tugging insistently on the sleeve of my kimono. My two katana bumped against my hips as she practically dragged me through the undergrowth. What started as a leisurely stroll quickly devolved into a twenty-minute sprint, culminating in a rather undignified wade across a surprisingly chilly stream.

It was then that I noticed it. The normal symphony of the forest – the chirping birds, the buzzing insects, the rustling of unseen creatures – had vanished. An unnerving silence had fallen, thick and heavy. My posture stiffened instinctively, my hand hovering near the hilt of my katana. The sudden change in my demeanor stopped Kunou in her tracks. The playful tugging ceased as she sensed the shift in the atmosphere, her wide eyes mirroring my own growing unease. Whatever had caught her nose had led us to a place where even nature held its breath.

"A barrier," I murmured, my hand now resting firmly on the hilt of my katana. I wasn't a mage, not by any stretch, but years spent in the presence of beings whose power hummed beneath the surface like a live wire had given me a certain… intuition. And right now, every fiber of my being was screaming that this place was wrong. "Something's here, Princess, and it's doing a damn good job of hiding itself."

"It's really strong!" Kunou whispered, her nose twitching furiously. "The scent is coming from right here!" She started bouncing around, a little whirlwind of fur and curiosity, running in circles and sniffing the air with renewed vigor. Then, with a surprised yelp, bam! She ran headfirst into… absolutely nothing. Bounced right off an invisible surface, clutching her forehead with wide, slightly teary eyes, as if she'd just collided with a brick wall.

I reacted instantly, yanking Kunou behind me and placing my right hand firmly over the hilt of my katana. The touki, the very essence of my life force, surged through my body, thrumming down my arm, through the wrapped grip, and into the sheathed steel. In a single, fluid motion that years of training had honed to instinct, I drew the blade, sliced through the air before us, and returned it to its saya.

The sharp shick of the blade meeting its sheath was followed by a sound like cracking glass. Then, the very space in front of us began to distort, lines appearing as if reality itself was fracturing. The cracks widened, spider-webbing across the invisible barrier, before the whole thing shattered, revealing what had been hidden from our senses.

The shattered barrier shimmered and vanished, revealing a rather bizarre scene. A teenage boy, stripped to the waist and glistening with sweat, was engaged in some kind of strenuous exercise with what looked like a dense, pulsating orb of pure mana hovering in his hands. And standing beside him, looking utterly out of place in the overgrown forest, was a stunningly beautiful woman dressed in what could only be described as a very high-end cosplay maid outfit, complete with a whistle dangling from her lips. She looked as surprised to see us as we were to see them. An awkward silence hung in the air as we all just… stared at each other. The scent Kunou had picked up suddenly made a lot more sense – the faint, sickly sweetness likely coming from the concentrated mana, and the "pretty but strong" scent… well, that was probably the ridiculously out-of-place maid.

I remained frozen, my stance unwavering, my hand still gripping the hilt of my katana. The air crackled with the sheer power radiating off the maid; it was a tangible thing, pressing against my senses. This was no ordinary human. But then, the sweaty boy, his chest heaving with exertion, offered a tired wave and a breathless, "Hello." He even managed a small, strained smile.

And then Kunou, bless her innocent heart, shattered the tension like a dropped teacup. "HI! I'm Kunou! Who are you!" she chirped, stepping out from behind me, her nine fluffy tails swishing with curiosity. Typical. Leave it to a kid to cut through the drama.