Tag: TOFOTN (Page 3 of 3)

Five days had conveniently passed since the epically proportioned fight by the Hot Springs under the midday sun. The day was Friday, and with the evening time approaching the burning ball of heat fell back behind the edge of existence, once again failing to incinerate them all, its currently leased light expired for the day.

With everyone having returned from whatever it was they did during those hours not spent in the dormitory, the residents had chosen to treat the sun setting with a celebratory dive in the Hot Springs, commemorating another day having survived the wrath of the Sun God and relaxing in the cool bath waters that would kill them all given half the chance and a kilogram of sentience. New members had been introduced to the cast at this point, the first and only of these being Setsuna, a young, slightly overweight woman from Nara of around the age of twenty. All who ever met Setsuna had considered her to be a nice girl, but this was mainly due to the fear that the girl had the power to instill in anyone she met. No one knew why, but they always felt like terrible things would happen to them if they ever said anything wrong about her, especially about her left shoulder blade.

The only person who wasn’t outside at this moment of relative importance was Gen, who had kicked everybody out of the dormitory so he and the cheapest hired help he could find could do a complete clean up of the building before everyone came back in and messed it up again.

Sagara and Natoko were training.

For these two, this is what half of their days had been like since the very short time they had become bestest best friends. Natoko, it can be assumed, had school during the day and Sagara was busy mastering the art of pretending to do the work he had agreed to do for the sake of rent whilst in fact being incredibly lazy and sitting by the television. The evening was now the only real time they had to come home and try to hit each other.

Their basic sparring had been going on for about ten minutes non-stop, with each pushing the other back in a reciprocating wave of practice. The unofficial match was about to reach its climax with the winner being a mysterious third entity, when a small watch started to beep.

“Right, that’s enough for today then,” Natoko panted, relaxing her stance as she turned the device off. Exhaling heavily, her lungs trying to catch as much air as possible, the newly appointed samurai fell to one knee. She was exhausted, despite her movements being much smaller than Sagara’s over the top acrobatic fighting, she had tired a lot faster than he had. It was beginning to dawn on her that changing her fighting style to something more realistic was probably not a good idea when she only had a day left to master it.

Sagara was a little disappointed when the watch had gone off, but the others had insisted that he stop overdoing it so that he wouldn’t be found in various obscure places around the dorms sleeping it off later. With the sparring having gone on for around two hours now, with only a few small breaks in between to discuss tactics, all knew that if they didn’t stop him now it would only lead to sweat stained floorboards later.

Sagara wasn’t actually any good at discussing tactics, Natoko had pointed out a few times, and could never seem to describe any idea pass the concept of hitting her in various body parts. On the other hand, he showed signs of constant, bright new ideas that would just spring out of him at any time and usually knock her down to the ground. And since she would often miss what he did due to being hit by it, she had to stop him as soon as possible unless he forget what he actually did. Natoko was able to catch him out as well, though her tactics often required her stopping to think about it, but that was what sparring was all about in her opinion. A chance to think up and try out new ideas.

Unfortunately, Sagara didn’t understand this at all.

Now, her real blade staying at her waist, Natoko had chosen to spar with a wooden sword to prevent injury. However, the blunt blade appeared pointless to the one she was fighting against, and he was treating it more like an ineffectual club, showing no hesitation of letting it touch him when she delivered a small stroke. He had even grabbed it a few times and used the stick to pull her towards him, ignoring the horrible mutilation that would occur if it was a real sword, as well as her complaints afterwards.

“Awww,” Sagara whined, disappointed and unconsciously rubbing his knuckles as he too dropped his guard. If he was aching all over as well, he didn’t seem to mind as much. “You know, you should stick to what you were doing earlier, when you kept your sword in the sheath all the time. You were faster then.”

“It is less… practical,” she commented, pulling her sword in and out of its sheath as fast as she could. “If I get surprised, it’ll get jammed and I won’t be able to pull it out in time. Kendo will do for now.”

“Come on,” he said, taking a step back, his legs already bouncing on the spot. “Let’s just try it. I wanna see if I can dodge.”

“Please sire-” she pleaded.

“Sagara…” Sagara insisted. “And you complained when I got your name wrong.”

“Sagara…” she continued, maintaining a calm composure in front of an urge to scream at him. “We need to head out soon, remember? I suggest that we rest up for a short while and then be prepared to move out.”

“Okay,” Sagara agreed far too easily, dropping his form. “I suppose we can do a rest.”

“A rest?” Fujiko shouted from the spring, grabbing their attention. “You two should go into comas the amount of time you’ve been doing that. Get lives already!”

“A dip in the Hot Springs would be just as good,” he said, pointing towards where the girls were resting, before skipping towards his intended destination, any signs of exhaustion now gone, the anticipation of his beloved Hot Spring taking all the fatigue away. A hand appeared in front of him magically. It was connected to Otsune, who clambered over the rocks hastily as soon as she heard his words.

“Hold it,” she exclaimed, a cross look on her face. “We’ve already been over this, Sagara. You’re not allowed in here when any of the girls are in here.”

“Aw…but…hot spring,” he whined, as if this would be enough to win over Otsune’s firm decision.

“No,” Otsune shouted, sick of going over the same ineffective conversation that she had suffered over the past three days. “If Gen’s not allowed in when we’re in, you shouldn’t be either. Why don’t you even begin to understand this?”

“Well, why don’t you just let Gen in as well?” he suggested with a sheepish grin. “Then we could have a big Hot Spring party.” Empathising his suggestion by spreading his arms out wide, Otsune responded with a glare that told Sagara his suggestions weren’t welcomed.

“But Otsune,” Sarah said, jumping to her cousin’s defense. “It’s alright to let him in, he just wants to relax like the rest of us, and we’re all wearing our costumes anyway.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Otsune said, getting angry now, still not understanding why her view of modesty was so alien to those around her. “He’s male, we’re female. If we allow a guy to bathe at the same time as us, and someone hears about it, we’ll have everyone in the village on the doorstep with burning torches. And, if some of you haven’t noticed already, there are some of us may not be comfortable with it either.”

“I’m fine with it,” Fujiko said, raising a small cup of clear liquid in the air.

“Me too,” Sarah said.

“And me,” said Aki.

Tina just blushed, ready to agree with everybody that they shouldn’t let him in, when they then all said the complete opposite of what she was expecting. Setsuna was asleep, and floated to the surface every so often, the possibility of her being dead significantly high.

Sakura just quietly stepped out to leave, knowing that if she said anything at this point the others would convince her to stay. The young girl found it far too embarrassing with Sagara just a few meters away from the spring. Even knowing that he didn’t see it as any big deal, though this too was confusing, it still felt a little weird to her.

“I don’t think it will be a problem, Otsune,” Natoko added, coming to the side of the springs, trying to comb her hair dry with a towel. “Sagara’s not the same as other boys his age. He’s not driven by his basic urges and wanton desires.”

“Oh really?” said Otsune, turning to look at the supposedly mature boy, who was currently staring in the direction of the springs where all the half naked girls were laying down, drooling slightly.

“Hot…hot springs,” he mumbled, reaching out with his hand to try and touch the water’s surface. “So close, yet an eternity away”

“It’s not the same wants and desires I agree,” Otsune said after a few second’s observation. “But you have to admit, he’s just plain weird.”

Natoko looked back to Otsune, with a small, worried smirk on her face.

“Oh fine, let him bathe with you then,” Otsune shouted, grabbing her glass of orange juice and heading for the door. “I won’t be here to suffer it. Just don’t come crying to me when a picture of you all serving a stranger in a pool gets distributed to every conservative freak in this town.”

“You can get in now, Sagara,” Fujiko cooed, snapping him out if his trance as the gate to the Changing rooms shut behind Otsune.

Sagara dived in without hesitation, either ignoring or not noticing the fact there he was still fully clothed, his training clothes still caked in sweat.

“Sagara!” a voice called out to him, causing the boy to shoot straight back out. He turned round to see his cousin Gen, who was currently facing away from him, the past few months having taught him the price for walking to a Hot Spring full of girls without first averting his eyes. “That show you wanted to watch is about to come on. Could you please sit on the towels until you’ve dried up?”

Sagara disappeared in a badly animated flash, this ‘show’ apparently being more important than his compulsive desire to bathe and Tina had to jump out of the way to avoid him. The girls looked on confused, and two of them found themselves leaving to find out what it was all about, Gen disappearing around the same time.

“What was that all about?” Otsune asked, finding herself wandering back a minute later, the threat of a male in a Hot Spring having been extinguished.

“No idea,” replied Fujiko dismissively, too lazy to follow herself. “Get back in already.” Having less reason to care about modesty, Natoko removed her sweat covered hakama before stepping in, keeping a firm grip on her blade, making sure the sheath didn’t get wet. Junko felt the urge to mention something about it, like the samurai had forgotten to take it from her hand like she would a sock on her foot. “You as well, Tina.”

“I- I’m fine, thanks,” the German girl replied, having chosen to sit on one of the rocks above the Hot Spring. Otsune saddled up besides her friend, dropping into the water slowly.

“I think it has something to do with a cartoon they watch around this time,” she said, sinking all the way down to blow bubbles out her mouth

“Oh? I thought Sagara didn’t like watching television,” Fujiko replied, moving over for Natoko to sit beside her.

“That was until he started to goof off all day. He’s strangely lazy for someone obsessed with fighting,” Otsune said, slipping back in. “Now, when he’s finished his chores, he tends to sucks information off of the education channels doing yet more training as he does so. Really messes up the floor.”

“He’s been watching the period dramas as well,” Natoko pointed out, cooing slightly as she let the water slip around her. “Or at least tries too. He always gets me into fighting him halfway through.”

“How is the training going anyway?” Fujiko asked her friend.

“Good I guess,” Natoko replied, sighing in response to the hot water as it closed in around her. “All we really have to do in refine our skills. I’m just worried that I won’t be able to use kendo before it begins.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to qualify for this tournament thing?” Fujiko asked curiously. She was in conversation mode, as Aki called it, and they had all learnt from past experience that it didn’t actually matter how she replied to Fujiko’s quick fire questions; the girl’s insatiable urge to fill the silence was all that mattered.

“Well, as long as I have that ticket he gave me, all I have to do to qualify is show up on the day… I think. He hasn’t actually told me much of anything.”

“So you two will become rivals as well as lovers,” Fujiko said casually, failing to change the tone of her voice and smiling as Natoko became more relaxed.

“It seems so,” replied Natoko, relaxing further into the spring, her eyes soon springing wide open. “Hey,” she shouted.

“What? You mean you two aren’t a couple yet?” the other girl said teasingly. “But it’s been four days and you’re already so close.” Natoko held in her anger, never finding herself on Fujiko’s tormenting side before, but knowing it would be letting the girl get her way if she shouted her disdain. Fujiko was the type that liked pushing her friend’s limit.

“Oh… I never knew. You’re so lucky, Natoko-san,” Setsuna replied, now awake and resurfacing. “Sagara-san would make a wonderful husband. He’s so caring and considerate.”

“Shut up,” the samurai shouted, failing to hold it in. “There’s nothing between us. We’re just helping each other train.”

“Oh, you believe that,” Fujiko replied grinning, letting it sink in as she took another sip from the small plate that contained her alcoholic beverage. “But what does he think?”

“What do you mean?” Natoko asked, pausing in her anger.

“Well, he did give you that ticket as a present. That tournament is apparently high class, even if it is for kids. You can’t even buy one of what you’re holding, I’ve looked on the ‘net. Don’t you think it means something if he’s showering you with rare and valuable gifts?”

“It-” Natoko stumbled. “It was merely an order, to enable me to be by his side, and in recognition of my skill.”

“And you’re following that order? Some feminist you are,” Fujiko slurred, the alcohol having taken full hold of her now. “Would you date him if he ordered you? Oh, would you slit your stomach?”

“I wish for all the world that you hadn’t heard the conversation between me and my master.”

“Yes, yes,” Fujiko replied with a happily dismissive tone. “It’s such a shame that our amazing ancestral samurai senses completely failed to detect when a glass is pressed against the other side of a wall and used as a listening device.”

“But really, Natoko,” Otsune began, doing her best to silence Natoko’s growl. “Declaring someone your master like that. It’s too weird. You wouldn’t see anyone do that nowadays.”

“Y-you think so?” Natoko stuttered, trying to pass it off with a smile.

“It’s like you’re actually trying to be some kind of actual samurai or something.”

“O-of course not.”

***

“I’ve prepared your bag for you, Sagara,” Natoko said, bowing as she handed it over to him. “Everything you should need for the next few days should be in there- though I couldn’t find your gauntlet anywhere.”

“Don’t worry about it, thanks,” Sagara replied taking it off her and heading for the doorway. It had started to get dark now and the cicada was chirping away peacefully in the surrounding hillside. “I won’t be using it anyway. Well, I won’t be allowed to anyway.”

“Very well,” she said, coughing nervously to herself as she looked to everyone else. “I have prepared the hotel reservations and train tickets. We should have forty five minutes to get to the train station from here on foot

“I wouldn’t mind getting something to eat on the way down,” the ninja said nonchalantly.

“Well, there is a nice-” Natoko cut herself off, glancing to the others as they started leering, “vending machine at the train station. We could get some snacks from there.”

“Excellent,” Sagara proclaimed, opening the door and sliding through it without any form of farewell to those that had come to see him off, leaving Natoko hesitant at following quickly after him.

“Well then,” she muttered. “I shall see you all tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Junko replied. “I thought you’d be gone for the weekend?”

“Aren’t you coming to watch?” asked Sakura, standing next to the background character. “I thought Aki got seven tickets from Sagara’s bag.”

“Ah, sorry, Junko,” Otsune butted in, clapping her hands to ask for forgiveness  from her friend. “I let Tina have the last ticket. I didn’t want to leave her on her own here.”

“You could have said!” the schoolgirl moaned.

“I know, but she’s been really sullen and I think she’s homesick, not to mention the whole perfume thing. I just think it’ll be good for her to get out and do stuff.” Junko sighed loudly, seeing the group staring at her in the process and straightening up.

“Fine,” she gave in. “I guess I would have found it boring anyway. Why any of you want to see idiots hitting each other is beyond me.”

“Because it’s fun” Aki announced happily, as Natoko took that moment to slip away, bowing one last time, with only Sarah watching her, a glum expression on the child’s face.

Taking the one hundred and eight steps down to the bottom of Heavenly Springs, Natoko met Sagara with a passive look before they both carried on walking. Keeping behind him, the samurai girl tried to look attentive to her surroundings, unsure of how she was supposed to act. It should have been obvious really. She had seen hundreds of shows depicting the style of a samurai, but with Sagara in front of her, she couldn’t tell if she was doing it right or not. It didn’t help that he wasn’t helping himself. Other than saying ‘thanks’ or ‘let’s fight’ every so often, the boy hadn’t done anything with her as regards to her being his retainer, and she was beginning to think that perhaps he wasn’t taking it as seriously as she wanted him to.

Though what had she been expecting? That everyday he would assign her with a new mission. That they would be engaging in street fights against punks who would threaten the innocent? Maybe even fighting demons in dark alleyways? No, even in a world where just days ago a water based demon had invaded her body and use it to perform strange magical powers there would not be action on a daily basis. Even in the cartoons whole months would pass between events where the warriors would train themselves in preparation. In that regard she had been doing things right.

But from what he had said, there was something going on within this tournament that he had entered the two of them into, something to do with demons. Admittedly he hadn’t gone into much detail with her and even consulting Gen hadn’t offered much more information. Did Sagara even have any more information?

“Not really,” he replied when she finally asked him. Expecting him to at little go over the little information he did had, Natoko waited in silence for a minute or so, soon realising that in his mind, the conversation was over.

“So shouldn’t we be getting information?” she asked eventually. He was a ninja after all, though she had yet to see him be sneaky in any way whatsoever, and information gathering was what ninja did best after sneaking into the castles of Feudal lords and assassinating visiting dignitaries.

“Maybe,” he replied. “We’ll have to see.”

Is that really the type of decisiveness that you should be having? Natoko thought to herself as the steep hill gradually declined to a level that didn’t kill her calves. Mind you, he had only entered Japan recently. It would have been difficult even for a super ninja to start getting information out of the surrounding lands. Whilst she was sure that, if this were a computer game, they would have already run into the mysterious entity that would have gave them a special item required to get the key for the next level, this wouldn’t be the case here. Sagara probably didn’t even know where the surrounding demons of this area hid.

Actually, just how many demons were around this area? So far she had only seen one (and been possessed by another) in her entire lifespan. Surely if there were many nearby there would have been other clear signs: torn fences, missing pets, people claiming to have seen mysterious events, only to be instantly refuted by their friends.

Just how many times had she ignored a ghost story when the person in front of her wasn’t crazy. The girls in class talked about them all the time, though only Aki seemed interested at home.

No, the girls in school were clearly just playing. They read far too many light novels and were engaged in talks about the latest mystery television show just as much as they thought poltergeists had been throwing rocks at them in the fields. She had to remain smart about this. Just because she now knew demons to exist didn’t mean she should start accepting Tanouki spirits and the American Bigfoot as fact. Natoko knew there were a lot of questions to be asked about this and she could feel her heart beating hard at the idea of being one of a few that knew about such an immense secret.

“Sagara,” she said, briefly under the impression that his mind was turned off. “About all these demons?”

“Yeah?”

“A lot of the residents were away last Sunday, so not many got to hear about all that happened,” she began, not entirely saying what she intended to say. “Can you… Would it be possible that you don’t bring it up to anybody? That it stays a secret with those few that already know?”

“Huh?”

“It’s just-” she almost panicked. “It’s just that we’ve all got a lot of problems anyway and I don’t think it’ll help if news of demons in the dormitory got out. It’ll be better if no one knows about it and talks about it even less. You understand?”

“Okay,” Sagara replied briskly. “I have to do that anyway. It’s a standard of the clan.”

“It is?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Mom says the presence of demons should be kept from the eyes of the mortal world as best as possible, for not only might humans been taken in by greed and lust, but they will for certain lose their own free will.’” He fell silent for a second, his gaze looking over the rooftops to the newly approaching moon. “Thinking about it, letting you humans find out might get me into some trouble. Protecting free will is supposed to be paramount.” He rubbed his chin in contemplation. She couldn’t help but think it was a bit too late to be considering it now.

Still, if it was kept between the eight or so people that knew already, that would be for the best for her. Now if only…

“Lot of people out tonight,” Sagara said casually, pricking Natoko’s ears. It was an unusual thing for him to say, for looking around Natoko couldn’t see anybody.

She stopped just short of bumping into a frail old man dressed traditionally, Sagara jumping out the way to avoid him first. They weren’t alone. Looking carefully, in the shadows that grew between the gaps of the small houses, she could just make out a few figures in the mist. She was just about to mention how unlikely it was for the residents to be out this late when she realised the man was still staring at her.

“Ah, excuse me sir,” Natoko said when the old man didn’t step out of the way. “Is there something we could help you with?”

She saw his receding hairline as he tilted his balding forehead towards her, his eyes glazed with a fury that labeled itself righteous. The old man’s eyes met up with hers and enjoyed a brief session of glaring before a ball of saliva emerged from his mouth and landing hard on Natoko’s nose.

“Whore!” he shouted, alarming her a few steps back. “All whores, you should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Natoko was about to interject when she saw four more of the elderly group advance upon her. They looked ready to contribute to the layer of saliva that was now dripping down her nose and, judging by the saucepan the woman was holding, perhaps ready to beat her senseless as well.

“You should probably wipe that off,” Sagara told her as he stood besides her, distracting the encroaching mob. “He might have germs.” Natoko cringed.

“You little brats. Have you no respect?” the man in his dressing gown asked. “You come to our little town and you corrupt it with your filthy ways. You summon men to your rooms and let them have their way with your pert little bodies. You disgust us.”

He spat again. Natoko wished she could have said she was ready for it but she could only dodge so much that it landed in her hair and bounced off what little hairspray she used. What was going on here? Had they all been drinking? She had heard from the others that there had been issues with the community for Gen taking over ownership of the building but this was absurd. She felt her grip head for Iziz. Part of her wanted to take the man’s head off his shoulders and place it on her mantelpiece to show off as the ultimate conversation piece but reality stopped her, knowing that she couldn’t possibly use it against such people.

“How long do we have until the train?” Sagara asked her far far out of the blue.

“About fifteen minutes,” she answered off her tongue, only able to think of the question’s gratuitousness second after as the lady with the pan took three slow steps behind the ninja and swung hard, taking his head down with her cooking utensil.

“Sagara,” Natoko found herself screaming, her lord falling before her. His landing more than awkward, the boy tripped on his own ankle, spinning on the spot and collapsing into the floor.

Getting up almost immediately, Sagara rubbed his head, his body moving of its own accord, groaning like he had woken up with a hangover. Wandering around in a daze, he moved behind Natoko; a move the samurai interpreted as permission to attack. The mob of five in front of them were all standing now, one of them preparing his walking cane as the samurai did the same.

Grabbing the air around her sword, Natoko’s eyes went wide. It was gone. The samurai girl’s hands fumbled around her waist for a few seconds, letting out a small cry of desperate anguish that served distraction to the approaching geriatrics.

“Iziz!” she whispered weakly, realizing it was gone. “Where?”

“What?” Sagara said confused, the world spinning round his eyes. “You left it back at the dorm.” Refusing to believe him, her hands checked her waist again, before trying to feel her back, just in case she had decided to place it there for a change.

Thoughts of the fight fell away from her mind, her knees buckling as agony assaulted her mind. All those around her disappeared, blurring with distorted sounds. She felt like she was underwater, floating lifelessly, like she had drowned without losing her life.

“What’s wrong?” Sagara asked through the storm that entered her mind. What does it look like? Barely hearing her own thoughts, she looked at him with barren eyes. He was blurry still, his image deformed in sore eyes. She had never been without her Iziz in so long. It felt wrong that she hadn’t even noticed until now, a betrayal to herself.

“My sword. Iziz. I need it.”

Act One: Epilogue

It went exactly as I planned it.

At least, I think I planned it.

Now he has shield. Strong shield. That won’t break easily. I led them together, a lovely reunion set for an award. Little overacting, but that just firms the bond.

If he is weak, make him look strong. The tactics of old will makes those who wish to strike early back off. Protected by an image of strength.

The servants will protect the master. As will I. Then I can ask him. Ask him the one question he won’t want to tell me, but by then he’ll have no choice.

“How is she now?”

“Vitals are exactly the same. Get more water.”

Five minutes had past. Everyone was assembled in Natoko’s room, a museum of merchandise Samurai armour bought cheap from junk shops, large hanging scrolls displaying calligraphy and swords on display, all bought from convenience stores and souvenir shops. Silence lay dead in the air, the group surrounding Natoko and ignoring all the feudal era stuff everywhere, devoid of dust that should have been there in layers. Gen and Junko had joined them following the ruckus, standing by the door frame without a clue what was happening.

Everyone was rushing in and out the room, a bucket run going between them as water was gathered in the best drinks containers they could find. The loser was currently lying on top of a futon, her head lying on Aki’s lap as her victor shoved water down her throat, the liquid covering the bed sheet as it fell away from her parched lips. It was probably a good thing that she wasn’t awake to witness Sagara trying to drown her.

“Hey,” Otsune said, her rushing in turning to a hesitant approach as she watched Natoko coughing some water back up. “Are you sure you know what your doing?”

“Well I haven’t done this before if that’s what you mean,” Sagara replied bluntly, everyone quickly beginning to realise they had given their friend up to some clueless non-doctor. “But we should be fast about this. You can die of dehydration fast after a possession. If we fill her up with water, she’ll at least stop looking thinner.” Aki whimpered, looking worried for her friend again. She could do nothing but hold her steady.

“If she woke up, it would help a lot,” Sagara said clinically, slapping her cheeks back and forth until three people stopped hm.

“Shouldn’t we get a doctor?” Fujiko asked. “They’ll probably know what to do. Doctors always know what to do. Or at least have a better idea than ourselves.” Sagara was shaking his head.

“Usually, when one gets possessed by water demons, they take water out at the molecular level… or something. A doctor could only do what we’re doing and they don’t have my water drinking training, so they won’t be as good as it as I am.” Otsune wandered back out quickly, nearly bumping into Sakura as she left backwards. Sakura got as far as passing the glass to Sagara before she dropped it with a light squeal.

“You’re bleeding,” she cried out, trying to examine his chest as the blood stain covered his shirt.

“What?” Sagara blurted, looking down and seeing his shirt and jacket had been ruined. “Oh yeah.” Examining it carefully, the ninja seemed to struggle for a second over what to do, before shrugging it away. “Well, I’m sure it’ll stop soon.”

“How can you say that?” Sakura shouted, her eyes darting everywhere. “You might be even worse than Natoko.”

“It’s nothing. Happened when the sword poked into me,” Sagara replied, dismissing it like your parent’s funeral. “Say, do you have some smelling salts? That might help wake her up.”

“I think Junko might have left some,” Fujiko answered. “I’ll go check.” She left on her mission as Sagara got back to trying to make Natoko drink, ignoring Sakura and leaving her to back away into the hall. All of a sudden, water forced itself back into the cup, the girl lying in the bed coughing loudly and moving to sit up in the same motion. Strong hands in front forced her back down. Her body tried to resist, her eyes closed and unsure what was happening, arms quickly finding they had no strength to them.

“No you don’t,” Sagara said lightheartedly, the glass of water dropping from his hand to the floor like he had placed it on a shelf, landing on the edge of the futon perfectly. Nobody stopped to admire the glass’s expert gymnastic performance as it landed without spilling a drop. It felt rather sad inside. “Stay down.”

“I will not…” Natoko’s replied weakly. It was hard to get the words out, her throat was sandpaper brushing over glass and her words were just adding buzz saws to it “Get off… me. What are you… doing?”

Collapsing in the same moment, her hands persisted against Sagara’s, pride clawing away at them at every moment it could.

“Ssshhh,” Aki said warmly. “Everything’s gonna been okay, Natoko. Just listen to him for now.” Although she was not in the state to tell who the voice was, the defeated swordgirl seemed to instinctively trust it, letting her hands ease off Sagara, her mind slowly drifting back to numbness.

“No, no, stay awake,” Sagara told her, slapping her a little too hard across the face, more like he was accusing her of felicitation than keeping her conscious. “You have to drink. Water is good for you. Especially when you have none at all.”

A few moments passed, the glass on her lips spending its time convincing her mouth to let its passengers through, immigration seeming hesitant for unnecessary periods of time before letting the whole lot in anyway. As she drank, the colour came back to her cheeks, letting her drink faster and faster as her body celebrated the fact that it was alive, quickly finishing off the glass and seeing the owner of the hand who was feeding her.

“You?” she said, her dried up eyes widening, her body bypassing Aki’s hands as it shot up.

“Yo,” he said, lifting the glass away from her mouth and behind him, not caring who took it. “Someone get some more?” Watching as Sakura took the glass and rushed out, Natoko calmed down again, mainly because her body was missing the fluids required to get anxious. Her head landing softly behind her she checked her surroundings, her eyes taking in the concerned faces of those still in the room.

“What happened to me?” the girl replied weakly, her mind temporarily drifting out of consciousness as she spoke.

“A spirit possessed you,” Aki replied, as casually as she would to say what’s on television. “She made you act like a drama queen.” A few of the others couldn’t help but snigger at this. Natoko seemed to have trouble believing her friend’s comment, and looked over to the boy in front of her to get a better answer.

“It was a spirit… or something,” he confirmed, a smile on his face even though he sounded confused. “I don’t know. I’ve never actually read about one like that. It should have been a demon. But if it was, it wouldn’t have had human memories. Definitely odd.”

Even dehydrated it occurred to Natoko that this was a man who was relying on knowledge he hadn’t taken the time to understand. Fear tried to grip her at the thought of her friends leaving her in such a person’s care, but once more failed to produce the enzymes required for the adrenaline rush.

“Though how did you even know there was a demon… spirit. Thing… whatever,” Otsune asked. “And how did that attack force it out.” Otsune’s mouth danced over her own words, her mind fumbling against them. The stuff she was talking about seemed utter nonsense, yet unless this was a poorly designed dream she was having, the evidence was before her and she was demanding answers from it.

“It seemed only to affect things that aren’t human,” Sagara muttered. “It didn’t affect Sarah, so I knew it would be okay. But then again, why did such a technique force it out…”

“How did she even get in me?” Natoko’s weak voice muttered.

“No idea. I could only tell because of my eyes…” His voice slowed down, wrapping himself up in thought, dribbling water down Natoko’s chin. “It was something about you being angry. But it could have been there for months to be honest.

“I brought the smelling…” Fujiko started, before seeing Natoko awake. “Never mind.” Sakura came in right behind her with more water, trying to keep it steady as she could before passing it to Sagara, who took it off her quickly and turned to Natoko, glad that the conversation was being interrupted. Placing the glass to her mouth like he was feeding a baby, the drained girl’s hand intercepted him, slowly drinking it herself. Between sips she stopped, wanting to continue the interrogation.

“What was that about your eyes?” Sagara cringed at Otsune question, hoping the conversation would leave through the window. Taking a few seconds to think it over, stopping to consider taking the path that he wanted the conversation to take, he seemed to decide to get on and tell them in the simplest way possible.

“You know,” he paused for a second, “about the saying that the eyes are the window to the soul?”

“Yeeeah?” Otsune replied after a few seconds, realizing that no one else was going to. Sagara paused to think again, staring into space like his off switch had been flicked. Everyone blinked at least twice.

“Errr, well,” Sagara said, continuing without any distractions from himself. “Basically, my mom’s side of the family usually have green eyes and, for a reason I’m not allowed to tell you, can see through any illusion, trick and whatever. It has something to do with the Neutralis, but I’m a little diluted, so I can’t do it constantly… Basically if you see that I have green eyes, that when you know I’m using it.” He waited for a moment, and saw that they still expected him to say more. “So yeah…”

“What use is that?” asked Aki, as if understanding completely, but seeing it as a useless ability that only added +2 to his awareness.

“Well, I saved Kotona’s life today because of it,” he explained with a grin, glad that they were happy to leave it at that. “If I couldn’t have seen into her and realize there were two souls, we would have never been able to help her.”

“You’re not exactly…helping me now…” Natoko mumbled, causing everyone to look towards her, seeing the girl was becoming drowsy again. Her glass had fallen from her hand, and it was only because of the glass’s unseen acrobatic ability that it hadn’t been shattered. Fortunately this time, the glass was expecting not to be applauded and so nobody’s feelings were hurt.

“Oh sorry, Kotone,” he said, taking the glass off her and passing it back to Sakura, turning this time. “Sorry to ask again, but…”

“It’s okay,” the smaller girl answered, leaving the room to head to the kitchen.

“It’s Natoko,” a voice said from behind him, as the girl’s footsteps left earshot.

“What is?”

“My name! Ya.Ma.Na.Ka. Na.To.Ko.” the girl said sternly, sitting up with energy, only to regret it immediately, her body insisting that sudden movement was a bad thing, and took control back, laying down on Aki again, who continued to tie the girl’s hair into knots without her realizing.

Before he could ask her what he had been calling her previously, the sliding door slid open behind them. In front of them stood the girl that Sagara had jumped over in the last chapter, now wearing a dressing gown and with a look that could be accurately described as very pissed off, with a pile of torn clothes wrapped round her hands.

“Where is she?” she shouted, ignoring the shocked look on Sagara’s face, which contrasted with the surprised look on everyone else’s faces. Ignoring everyone and everything that was happening she jumped over Sagara and landed on Natoko, grabbing the girl by her clothes and shaking her roughly for a few seconds, ignoring the state that the girl was in.

“That weird thing you did ruined my clothes, you bitch. You’re buying me new ones,” she shook the weakened girl again. If she weren’t so angry, she would have probably realized that she was somehow able to attack Natoko without getting swatted. Fuming in anger she turned to see Gen, trying to grab her softly and pull her off.

“Calm down,” he told her. “Natoko’s injured right now, she needs to be looked after carefully.”

“Be quiet you shit,” the ten year old child shouted back in her little temper tantrum. “Just because she’s fighting other people doesn’t mean she can ruin my clothes. My dad brought me them, and they’re from America. You think it’s going to be easy to replace them?” She turned to see Sagara, who was still looking at her with a studious look, his head waving from side to side. His staring caught her eye.

“Oh yeah,” she said, pouncing on Sagara and knocking him down. Even as he fell, the boy was still looking at her confused. Were it there, the glass would have been forced to do a triple backwards somersault with a nice little finale involving landing on its rim. This time it would have been noticed and declared the greatest glass in history. Unfortunately it was still with Sakura and was feeling intense emotional pain from within. “You’re the one who jumped around me. If it wasn’t for you then I wouldn’t have lost the clothes dad gave me. I am so gonna kick the crap out of you.”

Finally, something seemed to click in Sarah as well, seeing that smiling face staring back at her with furrowed eyebrows. Looking at each other, the two scanned each other, Sagara realising first.

“You’re the Squirt, aren’t you?” She paused for a second at his words, knowing that only one person could call her that and live. “I can still call you Squirt, can’t I?”

The runt just stared at the boy for a second, confusion running inside her mind, before finding the recognition it had been searching for.

“Boss?” she asked tentatively and although no answer was given she took it to be true. “Boss!” Screaming his name out once again with joy, she hugged her opponent, squeezing him tightly. The rest of the group just stared on as the ten year old hugged Gen’s cousin. No one had any real idea what was going on, but Sarah seemed happy, and that was rare.

Sarah was the youngest living at Heavenly Springs, and was two years younger than Sakura. Despite this, she was a loner and rarely ever left her room. Looking at her now though, Otsune could see no more than a normal child meeting their father as he came back from work.

Lifting himself up with the little girl was still connected to his neck, Sagara chortled to himself as she held on playfully. Finally having to pull the girl away, the two looked at the now familiar faces before them.

“Hey Squirt,” he greeted her properly. “You got quite the mouth now.”

“Your mom was a good teacher, Boss.”

“Really?” he replied. “I didn’t notice.”

“I take it you guys know each other?” Otsune was taking his place feeding Natoko now.

“Does Sarah usually mug strangers when she sees them?” he said rhetorically. Everybody nodded without hesitation, looking as dumbfounded as before, but Sagara hadn’t noticed. “Is your dad here?” he asked the girl, still clutching onto him. Sarah shook her head.

“I don’t know where he is at the moment,” she said. “He left me here a few months back. I don’t know when he’s coming back.”

“Kings are known for doing that,” Sagara replied with a grin. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon?”

“Yeah, I guess. He just…” Sarah found herself changing the subject. “Hey, wait a moment. What are you doing here?” she started poking him in the chest.

“To see my cousin in one part I guess,” he said, wincing in pain as she prodded away. Although I’m here in Japan on business,” he lifted up the small child into the air to empathize his point, taking the opportunity to move her away from Natoko. Sarah face twisted up, confused at his answer.

“You came to see me, but you didn’t know I was here,” Sarah asked, wondering what he meant.

“I meant Gen,” he said, calmly as ever. Gen sat up, the extent of the conversation dawning on him. “I didn’t even know you were here, Squirt.”

“It’s Sarah now,” Sarah insisted. “I have grown up, y’know.”

“Sure thing, Squirt.”

“Sarah’s your cousin?” Gen mumbled. “Does that mean she’s my cousin?” Sagara nodded, Sarah freezing up as she stared at the boring landlord.

“Does that mean he’s my cousin?” Sarah exclaimed with a gasp, like the situation hadn’t fully sunken in. Sagara shook his head, making both of them look back at him confused.

“Gen’s on my mom’s side, and the Squirt’s…”

“Sarah,” Sarah replied. “Sa-rah!”

“… on my dad’s side. Otsune isn’t related to me.” His finger had somehow ended up pointing at her.

“I had no idea,” Gen said, still in shock as Sakura came back into the room with several bottles of water. “I just heard from the girls that my grandmother let her stay without question, and that she never had to pay rent. At first I thought it was a trick, but she never gets on with anybody, so it couldn’t be, then my mother insisted…”

“Ah, Mizune would have known,” Sagara stated, taking the bottle off of Sakura and pouring it into the glass. “Probably her who did it.”

“But I’m related to her through you? That’s kind of scary. It’ll mean I’ll have to put more effort into buying her birthday presents,” Gen said laughing, scratching the back of his head with the concealed attempt of severing all the nerves there.

“Could you actually pass me the other water bottles please?” Natoko asked, the strength returning to her voice. It took a few seconds for Sagara to understand what she was talking about and took the bottles as he passed the glass back. Inside, the small glass screamed as Sakura left the room, it knew it was going to get put with all the other glasses again. No doubt they’ll all laugh at it again, like always.

Natoko opened up the bottle herself and sipped at it carefully, downing the bottle in seconds. “Excuse me… everybody,” Natoko said softly, her voice sounding delicate despite attempts at making herself look healthy. “Could I ask that you all leave me for a few minutes. I wish for some privacy. Plus, none of you are actually allowed in my room.” The last bit of the request seemed sterner than the first part.

“Are you sure, girl?” Fujiko said. “I know you need rest, but shouldn’t we stay in case something happens?”

“I assure you I shall be fine,” the girl said practically. “Sakura has supplied me with plenty of water, and that is all I need at the moment.” Looking to the left, the group could see around twenty small bottles of water. They turned to the girl, looking nonplussed. If the she drank this much it would bloat her up like a slug.

“Well…” Otsune thought over it for a moment. “I guess you’ll be okay. Sagara?” she asked, looking for a double check, with the hidden intention of it failing to cash in.

“Ah she’ll be fine now,” he said, standing up and beginning to usher them all out. “And she looks healthy too. To think I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.” As they all left, Aki seemed as hesitant as Otsune was.

“You gonna be okay, Natoko?” she said, looking a little sad at leaving her friend in such a state. They looked at each other, Natoko smiling back at the girl’s tear filled eyes and worried smile.

“I shall be fine, Aki. I just need to rest for a bit. I need to get back to training as soon as possible,” she replied, her voice sounding smoother and more elegant by the moment. With this, Aki nodded, smiling once more. She then jumped up to her feet, being gentle with her friend’s head and placing it down on the futon beneath them, before bouncing out of the room, grabbing Sarah and taking the angry little girl with her.

Sagara was the only other one left in the room with her. Natoko picked up another water bottle and drank hungrily from the plastic container.

“T-thank you,” she croaked between gulps of water. “If it wasn’t for you I don’t know what would have happened. Your timing here was most convenient” Sagara stopped by the door, looking out, yet listening carefully.

“You’re welcome,” he replied happily. “Although I’d still like to know what that thing was.”

***

He was different now. Different from how she had seen him earlier, the image of a moronic lewd creature molesting what he could gone with the true image of what, admittedly, still seemed to be a bit of a moron. It was almost amusing to watch him banging the back of his head against the wall, trying to spark some memory that would help him figure out what the spirit was. That didn’t matter now, though. She owed him a debt of gratitude, one which she felt, by her sword, that she had to pay.

“My sword!” she cried out, the word relaying over her mind several times.

“Huh?” Sagara mumbled as she started moving frantically within the confines of her futon, any thoughts of dehydration gone.

“Where’s my sword?” she asked him desperately, her voice shivering without the blade. “Please don’t say that it broke.”

“It’s behind you,” he said nonchalantly, unsure of her reaction. Turning around, she felt relief brighten her face as she saw it, the three and a half shaku blade that was as much a part of her life as her hand. Crawling up to it, moving on her knees, she grabbed it and brought it back to her futon. It would have all been pointless if she had lost Iziz. Her soul lay inside this sword.

The boy was looking at her and she felt her face fill with blood.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“What for?” he replied, looking honestly confused.

“Oh, nothing. It’s just this sword is very important to me.”

“Right,” he said, falling silent again. Had she sounded weird again? People always went quiet when they thought she was being weird.

“That aren’t that many possession spirits…”

“What?”

“Just thinking,” he replied. “There aren’t that many Earth spirits that can possess people like that woman did. Demons and Angels can do it with ease, but she wasn’t either.”

“Oh right…” Was he still thinking about that? Had he even noticed her rush to her sword?

“Mind you, there were similar effects of the possession to some earth spirits,” he continued, clearly speaking to the both of them. “Your skills were weaker than they should have been, that was similar to when my mom got possessed…”

“Your mother was possessed?” she replied, finding the idea of someone else being possessed somewhat relieving. It made her less weak by diffusion.

“Well I shouldn’t have been able to beat her,” Sagara replied. “She’s the Enforcer of the Balance. There aren’t any humans that can beat her.”

“Enforcer of the Balance?” Natoko repeated, the title meaning nothing to her except that it sounded rather stupid.

“Oh wait, I’m not supposed to talk about that,” Sagara said, waiting for someone to give him permission as he said it, “but I guess it doesn’t matter. In essence, like I told the others, my family are demon hunters, but the point of the direct bloodline is the role of Enforcer. The Enforcer is the lord of the village and assigned the job of making sure that non-humans from other realms don’t set foot on earth, because of the influence their mere presence might cause.”

Looking around for a moment, she realized he was being completely serious as he went on to explain other roles, sounding like a video game tutorial rather than someone describing their family.

“And this is your mother’s job?” she said, when he had finally finished, none of it having sunken in.

“Enforcer, yep. And one day, it’ll be mine. That’s why I’m here actually, I guess. The tournament is part of my initiation ceremony.

“So you really are a demon hunting ninja?”

“Didn’t I say that?”

“Too many times,” she replied. “I thought I might have misheard.”

“Right,” he replied, clearly not understanding her troubles.

“I guess I can’t argue with that. My wish to be a samurai is just as stupid.”

“You’re not a samurai?” She glared at him. That was that western view again. Everything holding a sword was a samurai from their perspective.

She sighed, regretting her slip as he suddenly became fascinated. “As far as I’m concerned I am one. I have always insisted fighting for honour and justice every since I got my sword, ever since my grandfather…” Her voice cut itself off, that inbuilt warning instinct that usually kicked in when she got too comfortable around stranger, wanting to share but knowing fantasy should stay away from fact. “But I guess there is no such thing as a modern day samurai.”

“There isn’t?” he asked, now looking mildly curious.

“At best, I’ll just be another Iaido or Kendo practitioner. That’s what I was told…but,” she felt a deep strain on her heart, threatening to crush it, “but that insults everything the samurai stood for! There aren’t even classes for Iaijutsu anymore and when I try to make my own styles up, people just say it’s like this or like that. It…”

“Don’t you have to be born into a samurai family or something to be a samurai?” he interrupted, apparently failing to notice her discomfort at speaking about this. Before she could stop herself, the words were already leaving her mouth.

“I was. I have my genealogy on the wall over there. My great grandfather was samurai and my grandfather gave his life alongside Mishima at the Self Defence Force building just to maintain the samurai way. And even though that failed, it doesn’t make me any less samurai. Just because my father chose the path of business shouldn’t change that, shouldn’t make me any less samurai.”

“Well, why would it?”

“What?”

“Why shouldn’t it make you any less samurai?” Was he mocking her?

“It shouldn’t,” she replied bitterly, her voice felt cold, wanting to twist. Her eyes felt like tears should be streaming down them.

“So you are samurai?” he said, voice still as calm as ever, yet still confused.

“Yes!”

It took her a few seconds to realize that she had shouted, the silence echoing the room greatly contrasting the volume a moment ago. Her eyes were locked onto his, finding that urge to tear him apart returning, wishing her body wasn’t as weak as it was. She waited for whatever mockery he had waiting for her.

“That’s cool,” he finally said. “I’ve never met a samurai.”

The lack of belief flooded her mind, the pain gripping her heart falling away. Why wasn’t he laughing? Everyone always laughed, mocking her with her own words. At the very least, they’d look away, make some excuse, talk behind her back at how silly she was. They always did. Even her friends took it all in stride. Yet he wasn’t doing anything. He reacted as if she had she wanted some respectable business job or something and now-

It was clear. Now she owed him two debts. Her hand tightened over her sword. Would it actually be possible?

“Anyway, I need to shovel food into my mouth at an alarming rate so…” he began, moving for the doorway.

“Sagara-san…” she whispered, interrupting him.

“Yeah?”

“This may seem…a little sudden…but…” She was hesitating. It wouldn’t work if she was hesitating. The moment would be spoiled.

“What is it?”

“Please,” she shouted, throwing her hands onto the floor and bowing her head as deeply as it could go. “Please take me on as your retainer!”

“Excuse me?” he replied, sounding as bewildered as she expected.

“All my life,” she began to explain, letting the moment rush into her. “I have been determined to be samurai. Some called me childish, others strange. Others simply laughed it off. Yet you have accepted my dream unwaveringly. As samurai, I have no choice but to follow and serve you.”

“But,” he said, scratching the back of his head loud enough for her to hear it. “Aren’t you supposed to be following some Lord or something?”

“If what you have told me is true, and I have been convinced today that it is, then I have opted to follow someone who is heir to the position of a Lord. I beg of you! I believe I am making the right choice.” She held herself in, water was leaving her body again, her eyes clamped shut like fearing the executioner’s bullet. “Please. Accept my plea for you to become my master.”

That was it. She had said it. It didn’t matter how stupid it sounded now, how messed up it was. It had come out and there was no way to take it back. Whether he refused or not was just a small side detail now compared to that step she had just taken.

“Sorry but…”

I thought so.

“No wait. You should know,” he hesitated, scratching the back of his head. “My way isn’t exactly about honour or justice. It isn’t even considered a noble thing what I do. For me to take you in probably won’t bode well in the future.”

So that was his excuse. It sounded different, almost reassuring. Should she accept that?

“…but then again. It is your choice, and it is our key principle that we allow a person their free will. So…”

Was he just speaking aloud? Was it acceptance? It was impossible to tell. Her mind felt like it was on fire. It didn’t matter if it was his answer.

“Thank you,” she shouted, bowing furiously. “Thank you so much!”

“Hey, I didn’t…” but she was looking at him now. His face had barely budged an inch since she had brought hers down. He seemed to give in. “Never mind, it would have probably led that way anyway. Okay, I accept you.”

Nodding, she brought her head back down for another bow, years of period drama teaching her exactly how she should act. But it wasn’t an act. For once it wasn’t an act. At that one point she felt truly free. It was a beautiful moment for her, her blood was racing despite the water shortage. A feeling of flight emerged in her. Acceptance.

“Wow, my second servant,” Sagara muttered as he wandered out. “Remind me to introduce you to Melissa sometime.”

“Eh?” Natoko blurted out as the door shut behind her new lord.

“Ahhh,” sighed Fujiko dipping her feet into the water, not displaying concern if her denim white jeans got wet. “This is nice.”

“Yeah,” replied Aki, showing no concern at all as she jumped in, splashing a few of the others around them. “It was a good job they decided to fight to the death by the springs.”

“Please can you two be a little more serious here?” Otsune commented, currently sitting on a rock. Despite her comments, the girl also had her bare feet in the soothing waters, her hand brushing the water. “This is a fight to the death.”

Sakura sat quietly, yet closer to where the fight was going on more than anyone else. The twelve girl looked on worryingly, upset that this was all technically her fault- that she had been responsible for upsetting Natoko and instigating the fight. She wished there was something she could do to stop it, but knew it had gone too far now.

“Hey, you’re the one who didn’t bother ringing the police in the end, girl,” Fujiko pointed out. “And I’m sure nothing really bad will happen.”

“I didn’t ring because someone had Aki disconnect the phone lines for the dormitory. And then my phone went conveniently missing even though I always keep it on my desk besides my journals.” Otsune sighed in defeat and stared towards the sun. Midday has passed about ten minutes ago. No one seemed that bothered. “Are you really so bored that you’re going to run the risk of two idiots kill each other for your own amusement.”

“Well… yeah,” replied Fujiko, bringing her bottle to her lips for another sip. “Did you have anything better to do?”

Natoko stepped up to Sagara. Seeing movement, all eyes turned towards the two at the north end of the spring, where there was a small grassy area that looked like it had been perfectly designed by the Lord himself at the very beginning of time in order to have a meaningless brawl between two stubborn idiots.

“At least you showed up, I thought you might have hidden away.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting, though I was here first,” the second said. The supposed ninja had gotten changed from before, now looking actually less prepared for a fight to the death than he did before. Wearing a black cotton jacket that  would surely roast him in the current heat wave, the boy looked as if he were about to leave, a small leather bag slung round his shoulder.

“You don’t look ready to fight. Do you plan on running?” Natoko sneered, a mocking grin plastered on her face.

“No, I’m staying,” he said, looking confused for a second. “Why would I leave now?” Grimacing at the blasé response, the girl ignored the question, sliding the scabbard of her katana into her sash in preparation.

“Are you aware of the rules?” she asked as a mere formality.

“Rules? We’re just going hit each other until one of us dies, right?” Sagara said, placing his leather bag onto the floor.

“I guess that’s right,” she replied, feeling miffed.

The supposed ninja was grinning childishly. Kneeling down, he opened his bag, taking his eyes completely off his opponent. Stepping back at this action, the girl was appalled at his lack of respect, of just dismissing her like that, for whatever reason. Watching as the seconds ticked by, Natoko felt her grip curling round the hilt of her blade as he took his time, apparently searching for something. Her mouth started the fight.

“Enough of this. Begin!” she shouted, charging towards her opponent, unsheathing her sword and raising it above her head without a moment’s hesitation. Traveling the length of the small field, the enemy wasn’t even looking in her direction, still focused on getting something out of his bag, the swordgirl struck the ninja boy in a single stroke.

“Look out!” Otsune shouted out from the springs, unable to help herself, Sakura looking away in fear. From their position it was clear he had no chance of defending himself from that distance and Otsune was already standing to intercede. Her motion stopped when she saw that Sagara was still alive, holding the blade of the katana in his hand.

Her initial rage subsiding, Natoko focused enough to see what had happened.

“Wha?” She mumbled in shock, not expecting what she saw.

“What?” Sagara said with a grin. “You got a weapon, I don’t see why I shouldn’t.” Repositioning his legs, the boy stood up straight, pushing her sword back as he did so before knocking it away, iron clashing upon steel. Natoko gazed for a few seconds, keeping a firm hold of the blade, looking towards his right hand as the opponent kicked his bag away.

“A gauntlet?” Otsune said from the sidelines, looking just as surprised as everybody else. Even Fujiko and Aki had sat up at this, now paying attention like crows, the shiny iron fist reflecting the sunlight towards them.

“Well, that changes things slightly,” Fujiko said. “Looks like he stands a little chance now.”

“A little chance?” Otsune replied, sitting back down. “You forgetting how fast he won the first time?”

“Yeah, but Natoko’s really angry with him this time. He’s gonna get slaughtered.” Otsune wondered. He still had that goofy grin on his face. In fact she hadn’t seen it leave his face since this all started. It was standard for someone to be cocky before a fight, but that usually went out the window as soon as a fight started.

Natoko took a step back, bringing her sword’s hilt to the left side of her head, the long metallic blade arching behind her as she stepped forward on her left. Sagara remained standing straight, his metal clad fist poised ready at his side.

“If you think bringing that out at the last second is going to affect this duel, you’re wrong,” the swordgirl called out, holding her ground. “You should have hidden it for as long as you could.”

“Whatever,” Sagara said dismissively, “If it’s any consolation, I won’t attack with it. Humans can’t survive it.”

“Silence!” Natoko screamed out, stepping forward and swinging at the teen’s face. Ducking down to avoid the blow, the boy swept his left foot towards her in the same quick motion. Taking to the air to prevent being tripped, the girl came straight back down, her sword pointed towards the ground where Sagara was, the blade determined to stab him through the skull. He responded by leaning back, lifting his body onto his hands and hearing the sword thud into the ground without hitting him as a reward, an angry Natoko following it.

His arms still holding him up, a foot swung out towards her. Leaning forward a little to the left, the missing attack gave Natoko enough time to pull her sword out of the soft earth, using the hilt to block Sagara’s other foot as it came towards her at that same instant. The resistance of her blade causing him to lose his balance slightly, Sagara was forced to roll with it, moving away to stand back up and face away from her, covering his tracks for a few seconds by swinging a hook kick blindly behind him, the crooked leg making Natoko keep her distance as he used this momentum to swing round to face her head on. Only pausing for a second, Natoko was attacking as he caught sight of her, her blade swinging around to meet his body, which let the grass fall out from under him, quickly sitting down before immediately jumping up again and punching with his left hand towards her face.

Seeing this coming with little surprise Natoko’s body tipped out of the way of the uppercut just as his chest fell wide open to her gaze. Smiling at the irony of their position, the girl plunged her sword’s hilt into his abdomen, only wishing she could have risked taking the time to turn the sword around. Sagara exhaled loudly at the sudden intrusion to his lungs, causing his left leg to lift up in retaliation, slamming into her right thigh, knocking the girl down and allowing him to get away, his breath rushing to get back as much air as it could.

“Whoa!” said Fujiko, back at the springs, vocalizing what everyone else was thinking.

“I didn’t think Natoko was that fast,” said Otsune critically. The fight had been going for a minute now and only two hits had been taken.

“That’s weird,” Aki mumbled to herself, the others turning to find dark skinned girl staring at the fight as hard as she could. “She’s not fighting properly at all.”

“What’s that?” Fujiko replied, not sure if the skinny girl was talking to herself or not.

“It’s not Iai.”

“What?”

“She’s just swinging the sword around. With her usual style, she sheaths it constantly,” Aki elaborated, although it sounded like someone else was answering the question, the girl’s voice distant as her mind was lost in the fight. Back on the battlefield both warriors were staring each other down, the skills of the other surprising each warrior.

 

Sagara charged towards the girl in front of him, the fist with the gauntlet on pulled back. Not actually expecting a direct assault, the swordgirl was a bit slow to react, holding her sword up high ready to strike down. Defending, Natoko swung to counter what looked like a tackle, but found herself cutting thin air, the intruder disappearing from her field of view, leaving a vacuum where he once was.

Turning hastily to see an oddly angled punch coming from the only place he could be, Natoko stepped to the side at the last moment, seeing that her opponent was currently arched backwards, his entire body weight resting on one foot as the fist flew towards her. Missing, he lifted his body around the foot, swinging the same hand at her in the opposite direction. Dodging this, she brought her blade up, swinging it at his leg to remove it. This too missed, as the boy pushed hard on his planted leg and propelled his entire body high into the air, about twice as high as Natoko had earlier, like he was swimming in the air directly above her.

The swordgirl found herself blinded, intense beams surprising her retinas and causing her to squint just as everything slowed for a heartbeat. She saw the ninja silhouetted in front of the sun, appearing as nothing more than a black shadow. For a second she thought she saw spikes snaking out around his body, his gauntlet growing massive, a snake like creature coming from his other hand. Her eyes squinted as sunbeams surrounded him and time seemed to freeze as she locked onto her opponent, the abnormal shape above her catching her off guard.

The second passed, the air came back to her ears, telling her that something was falling towards her. Instinctively, she lifted her katana high into the air, panicking just enough upon when realizing it was his body tearing through the tip of her sword, cutting through his jacket like shredded paper and  falling to the floor besides her.

Just the jacket.

Glancing at the cotton top, she realised her mistake, craning her neck up quickly to see the rest of Sagara falling towards her, much too close to bring her sword back up. Swinging his body at the last second, the ninja brought his foot into contact with her face and knocking her back.

Given his position, the power of the attack was ruined by the odd angle at which he had decided to fall, the trick had still managed to give him time enough to get away.

Shaking her head from the attack, Natoko looked back over to where Sagara was on the ground. The boy had shifted his position to prevent landing on either the girl or her sharp stick and his hands hadn’t done a good job of protecting him from the several million feet thick solid piece of ground that they had just met. His chest had slammed into the ground and now he was just lying there, needing a few seconds to try and stop his heart from trying to get out of his chest.

“You should have landed on me, coward. It would have given you the advantage,” she stated, bringing her sword up above her head. “Die.” Bringing the blade towards his head, it hit resistance before it even got there, making a loud clashing noise before being repelled backwards. The shockwave was strong, but Natoko kept good hold of the polished steel, looking back down to see Sagara had rested his gauntlet on his chin, effectively blocking her blade.

“It’s not an advantage if I can’t do what I have to do,” he said calmly, his voice being muffled by his weapon. Trying to flip to the side, the girl’s sword was brought down upon him once again, forcing him to used the gauntlet to deflect her blows and trapping him there.

“And don’t you have to defeat your opponent?”

“No, that’s what you’re being made to do.” She snarled, taking the opportunity of his prone position to start reining down blows at him, swinging even wilder each time, aiming away from the only thing protecting the otherwise defenseless ninja. Each time, his prone position was giving him the perfect angle to block each blow, but his deflections were also causing her sword to lift back into the air with enough force to allow her to instantly bring the metal instrument back down for another fatal strike. Continuing the stalemate for eight more slashes, Natoko only stalled when she realized she had stopped breathing.

Seizing the moment, Sagara’s iron clad palm swatted her hands, both of which were clasping the blade tense enough to be bashed away. The advantage his again, Sagara right foot went to collide with that of his opponent’s. Given the clothing she was wearing, balance soon became her worst enemy, her body quickly dropping away from above, the other fist of the ninja shooting out at her, pushing lightly against her abdomen and knocking her backwards.

Her feet reacted quickly, readjusting the rest of her body to avoid meeting with the ground, even as her hands desperately tried to reach for the falling sword. Sagara’s feet sprung together to stop her, slamming into her midsection, sending her sprawling backwards, the precious air leaving her lungs as she fell back onto the ground in a heap.

“You’re fun. I like you,” Sagara panted out bluntly, taking his time to stand up. The final reverse kangaroo kick had caused Natoko to fall back about three meters, her chest wheezing in pain as she lay there.

Looking at her opponent, seeing the light smile on his face as he stared her back down.

Was he enjoying this? Before it had looked to her that he was merely fighting because he had been challenged, some chauvinistic attempt at not being beaten by a woman but now- that smile hidden under his unkempt beard, that perverted gaze that refused to look away from her. What was this? It felt like the world could explode and he wouldn’t notice, just to continue this fight.

She needed to end this as soon as possible.

Her sword lay on the ground below her, his back kick had sent her flying in its direction. It called out for her to grab it, Aki’s shouts accompanying it, warning her of the approaching ninja, charging flat out at her. With the same amount of speed that he had displayed earlier, she lunged for her sword’s hilt and swung it in the ninja’s direction, just catching his bare fist before her face.

A tremendous clash sparked across the area as sword hit gauntlet. The fingers of the iron fist now interlocked around the blade, pushing against it with just as much strength as she was pushing against him. Driving hard against him, she saw that same smile, mocking her with its simplicity, watching her fight with all her might while he was just testing her, watching her struggle just to keep him from pushing her own sword into her face. There was no way she could win like this. Being on the ground was a big disadvantage in itself, but he clearly had more brute strength than she did, and neither could generate any force. His face was getting closer. He’d end up falling on top of her at this rate, the bristles of his beard near her smooth cheeks again…

“No!” She wasn’t aware she was shouting, but it helped. Using every muscle in her body allowed her to get up onto one foot, she pushed against her blade as hard as she could, releasing all force and rolling back, her sword sliding through his fingers and out of his grasp.

Falling straight forward, the boy dropped his hands round to the ground, his back now wide open. Hopping forwards, she swung her katana down for the back of his head, missing as he lifted out of the way just enough to see the blade pass his nose and barely touch the tip. This time she followed through, keeping the sword in its same position she struck upwards, the small tip cutting across his chest, tearing through his thin shirt and taking skin and blood for its reward. The bastard was too fast. She should have cut through his entire body, but he had dodged again, this stupid blade hadn’t even carved into his muscles.

Jumping a step back, the boy’s foot unexpectedly cut the air in front of her face as he span round on his hands to stand back up, but she was slowly getting used to his tricks and wasted no time in stepping forward, moving the edge of her sword towards his abdomen. His iron clad fist dashing to block the blow, she recoiled from the impact, releasing a vengeful smile as she turned the force to swing at his neck, only to have it blocked again. Now they were both trapped, each recoiling the blast of the other’s attack to strike again and again, matching each other for skill and accuracy each time. At this rate, she would tire first, the abomination’s stamina was clearly better than hers. If only she didn’t have this pathetically heavy sword

“Enough,” she shouted, releasing her sword as his fist deflected it, using the loss of momentum to spin out the way and unleash a devastating kick to his groin, which took him flat to the ground. She hated to use such a tactic, but she-

Wait. Why had she used such a move against him? To attack the groin was shameful. An attack like that didn’t belong in her arsenal.

“You are a monster, Futabatei Sagara,” she called out, surprising herself. “An evil, despicable monster that deserves nothing more than to be released from this world.” What was she doing? Iziz was on the floor. Pick up Iziz! “I’ll destroy you in the name of all the innocent women your kind has plagued since you dominated this land, all in the name of soldier morale and cheap brutality.” What was she saying? When did she… She felt a cool heat. Were her hands on fire?

“Prepare yourself, Futabatei, for the Burning Waterball!”

To say her hands were on fire wasn’t quite right, it was more like the blood that had been boiling within her was now starting to steam and be released from her body, encircling her hands like some kind of cartoon energy attack. “The fiery water that you see will spell your death. It will wash away the evil of those whom it touches.” The energy in her hands pulse wildly. “I only hope it can purify the rotted corpse that holds your evil. ” The world in front of her disappeared; something was closing her eyes, now moving her hands. This was stupid. This guy was fast, he’ll hit get to us before anything happens.

“By the way,” another said said, sounding exactly like hers. “Don’t think your speed will help you. There will be no escaping it, since it will follow your every move.” The voice boasted its claim, her anger releasing the fire from her hands and out across the field.

Natoko didn’t know what was happening. Whatever it was, it felt as fantastic as it was sickening.

Sagara couldn’t currently see the grand splendor of the Burning Waterball that Natoko had set upon him to reduce his body to ashes and wash away his evil, since he was running away from it like a coward. He was, however, assuming the giant, impeding, incinerating wave of burning water was coming his way. It was only instinct that caused him to jump to the side at the last second, avoiding the red heat, watching it flow past him by a few inches before continuing its rampage.

The rampage didn’t last long, and they both watched as the streaking wave traveled about ten feet, before merging back into itself coming straight back at him. It was becoming clear to the interloper that Natoko’s threat wasn’t just a boast and the ninja ran for it, heading for the nearest entrance back to Heavenly Springs, crashing through the changing rooms and down the corridor.

***

Sprinting down the passageway of the East wing of the Heavenly Springs dormitory for girls, Sagara heard a large smash behind him, the Waterball wasn’t as polite as he had been and was not using the doors as a guest should.

Unsure as to what to do to avoid it, he just kept running. From what he could tell, it was going to keep causing damage until it hit him. Turning the corner, he saw stairs and bounced up them as quick as he could, hoping that it couldn’t follow his ascent.

Ignoring what was ahead of him, he took a moment to look behind. This time the fire was being polite enough to glide up the stairs, rather than crashing through the roof above them, although it could have been argued that it was still being a little rude to singe the steps like it was doing. Pacing through the corridors of Heavenly Springs, seeing one or two girls rushing back into their rooms at the sight of madness that appeared before them, Sagara turned his head back around only to see a small blond haired girl in front of him. Reacting as best he could, he flipped over her, her small height allowing him to do so easily as he continued running for his life.

Hearing a loud profanity behind him, he turned to see the girl enveloped by the shockwave, hitting her at around the same speed of a charging bull, the Waterball barely noticing her as it went through the little girl and out the other end, apparently leaving her none the worse for wear.

Sagara continued to grin as he went up another level looking around for something.

Back at the hot springs, the group had got up and walked towards Natoko, who was currently standing still with her eyes closed, her sword down to her side.

“Is it over?” Fujiko asked, unsure of how she currently felt about the situation. It was fun earlier, but then she had, in the true spirit of buddy movies, assumed that no one was going to die except the black guy. There was also the issue of her friend gaining the ability to generate a large ball of elemental energy and directing it at the new guy, which should have been causing her more alarm than it currently did.

“It soon will be,” Natoko said calmly. “He is still running from it, but he has no chance of escaping.” After a brief pause she opened her eyes and looked up to the noises coming from the dormitory. “I knew he was a coward.”

“Wha… a coward?” Sakura asked. “But he fought you for ages.”

“Cowards run, Sakura. Cowards always run in the end. You would do the same.”

“But you gave him no choice but to run, you said that thing would kill him. You would probably do the same thing in his situation.”

“Silence!” Natoko shouted, shocking everyone to silence. Sakura squirmed back and even nearly fell over. “Do not even think of comparing him to me. How dare you turn against me after all I’ve done to protect you?”

“Turn against you?” Otsune repeated, looking at her dorm mate in shock. “What are you talking about, Natoko?” Genuinely concerned for her friend, the student reached out to the swordgirl and was met by her sword instead. Falling back, Otsune looked to see that the blade had cut her jacket across the zip. Looking up at Natoko, her concern was quickly replaced with arrogant anger.

“What’s the hell’s wrong with you?” she shouted angrily as she stared the sword down, the look on the swordgirl’s face even angrier than hers, like she had been betrayed by her friend in exchange for a barrel of monkeys.

“I thought you would agree with me, Otsune. I know he did something to you in those springs. Something wrong. I can sense the perverted nature around him. I thought you would want me to kill him, but instead you protect him. Could it be you liked it, what he did to you back then?” Shuffling back, Otsune lay there as she saw tears dripping down the girl’s eyes, backing away as she failed to predict what her ‘friend’ was going to do next, the others equally as confused. “How could you? Why are all women like that? All sluts and whores, willing to allow the males to do what they want. You’re all like that, all of you.”

No words came from anyone at this point. Everyone was too taken aback. They certainly hadn’t been expecting to be called whores.

The group hovered around her, some of them jumping in their boots when she clutched her sword tight. Fujiko thought she was actually considering killing them all for their so-called betrayal. Otsune found herself getting ready to run.

That was when the foot hit her fast and hard, causing Natoko to fall to the ground before anyone could see what was happening. Turning back, her face plastered with red shock, she saw her assailant standing in front of her, wearing a mask of anger few had ever seen on the girl’s face.

“Aki?” This time it was Natoko who didn’t know how to react. Lying there, she watched as the girl walked up to her, looking like a strange menacing schoolgirl, ready to pound her into submission.

“You get out of Natoko right now,” the younger girl shouted, her words bewildering everyone around her.

“What?” Otsune said, moving over now trying to stop Aki from doing something stupid.

“You’re not Natoko. Go away.” Aki looked angry and hurt, Natoko the same. Both looks changed a second later as Natoko’s features twisted in contempt, slapping the girl before she had time to react and knocking her to the floor.

“Smart girl,” Natoko said calmly, “but far too late.” Lifting her sword into the air, intending to strike the girl down, intending to strike them all down, she only stopped when she saw Aki’s face, switching from a look of anger to one that was looking behind Natoko’s shoulder and into the sky.

“Everyone get out of the way.”

The crash of expensive windows came from above, stopping everything as all eyes turned upon it to see Sagara falling out of the building. Only there for a second longer, his forward momentum tossed him off and threw him as far as it could. A few meters behind him, everyone saw the gust of steam that was the Burning Waterball, still chasing him as strong as ever. Flying off the roof, slashing in various directions but still keeping its whole as it bounded off the roof without the same concern about gravity that Sagara’s body was currently having, the water followed its target.

Everyone scattered save Natoko, even Aki quickly getting up to make a dash for it. The swordgirl merely stood in disbelief at Sagara’s presence, surprised that he was still alive and currently falling towards her like the giant boulder. He was on top of her in the next second, throwing her to the floor and crashing them both into the ground and pinning her arms down. “Except you. You stay here.”

“What are you doing?” she cried out. “Get off of me… Not again.” Struggling fiercely, the girl could do only that. He was simply too heavy for her.

“In a minute. In a minute. I just have to let this thing hit all three of us,” he said calmly, nodding his head backwards in the direction of the sky. Picking up on this, Natoko looked behind Sagara to see the flaming ball of blue energy coming towards the both of them. She started struggling again, as hard as it was futile.

“No please, not again…” her eyes welled up with tears, as she pushed against him as much as she could, a prisoner trapped.

“Ah, don’t strain yourself,” he said, squatting over her like a frog ready to jump. “I’ll be off you in a moment, demon.”

“What? How did you?” she cried out, as the blast of cool water cascaded over her, slamming into the ground at around the same time the ninja bounced away. Like her very skin was burning, the girl screamed loudly, convulsing as her body began to steam, shuddering violently and clawing away at the ground like she was on the verge of a cliff. The blast of aquatic energy was gone as quickly as it had appeared. The girl still shuddered on the floor, straining her arms like something was holding her down, crying out as water began to eject from her lungs.

Even with her actions earlier, Aki was already running up to help her friend, only to be stopped by Sagara’s hand as she got close enough..

“Don’t,” he said, now appearing serious. “Just wait.”

Looking down to her friend, who was still going through her little fit, Aki watched, almost mesmerized, seeing blue and red steam coming out of Natoko’s mouth in little puffs that made it look like her friend had smoked something beyond merely illegal was smoking. It oozed out slowly at first, drifting upwards as a haze, but then the girl starting choking actual fluids out of her mouth. Sagara’s hand had to tense up over her shoulder to hold her back, and Aki saw it all began to flow upward as a mini waterfall, the water magically started to rise out of her mouth and began merging with the form that was building up just a few feet above her mouth.

As the last of the liquid coming out of her mouth joined the spherical object above her, the ball of steam and liquid began mutating, pulsing solar flares of water as it grew larger, forming the shape of a woman.

Like a badly carved statue, its features were very slight and it was only the small curves on what had to be her chest that proved her gender. She, if it could be called that, seemed to be failing to form any legs and instead grew a little tail as the liquid trailed off. As the form completed itself, it stared at the group staring right back at it for a few seconds, before turning towards Sagara.

“Bastard! Ho…h-how?” she asked, her voice like a hissing crone, giving the impression of throat cancer. “How did you know…”

“I could see it,” he replied simply. “She had two spirits.”

“What?” the creature shouted, scaring a few of the others, who were not fully sure what they were looking at. “You saw….”

“I wasn’t that sure at the beginning, but creating a big ball of energy like that from nowhere was sort of a big giveaway.” He looked back to his unconscious opponent on the floor. “Although the purifying thing was hers I think. Would you have been able to do that?”

Growling at this, they all watched as stream rose from the spirit’s body, as if she was boiling herself just by getting irritated. The rest of the group had found themselves slowly walking closer, entranced by what was before them. Most of them had never seen anything like this before, the only thing coming close being the strange noises they occasionally heard at night that were not telepathic ghosts. It was hard to judge if it was dangerous or not, and most found themselves looking to Sagara for some sort of clue. Sagara was being calm, but it was becoming hard to tell if that was dangerous or not either.

“Wh-what is it?” Otsune asked, before remembering her manners. “Who are you?” Hesitating, the creature floated a bit higher, keeping its distance.

“I… was once called Naomi. Anything else is none of your business,” the creature replied sullenly. It was looking around, seeming to have little idea of what to do next.

“She’s a water spirit,” Sagara said, not looking away from the creature. “They’re able to possess humans. She took control of your friend here.” He hesitated for a second, looking at her through his green eyes. “But she’s also human. That’s weird…”

“Took control…how?” Otsune asked, more concerned for the potential danger that whatever concerns Sagara was having.

“I don’t know,” Sagara replied with a shrug. “But it makes sense. The human body consists of around seventy to eighty percent water. If you were to control that, you could take control of the whole person. Everything that they do would become yours to affect, and they may not even notice you’re doing it. Since she’s 100% water, it would have been child’s play to make herself part of a person.”

“So that’s why?” Aki mumbled, kneeling down to her friend’s body. “Amazing.”

“Huh?” Sagara said confused, also with how Aki had walked around him without him noticing to kneel down to the slowly breathing body of her friend.

“Earlier, Natoko came in soaking wet, yet it hasn’t been raining for the past few days,” Aki said. The smile was on her face again. She knew her friend was better now, though she didn’t currently look it. Sagara said nothing, probably mentally cursing himself on how he hadn’t realized it himself.

“She should have been paying attention, the stupid bitch,” Naomi said, still hovering above them all.

“Hey,” cried Otsune. “What right do you have insulting-”

“If she hadn’t been so angry,” the water spirit interrupted. “Then she would have noticed that there was only one rain cloud above her, just a few feet above her head. But she was so angry after losing to you so easily- it was, as you say, child’s play to possess her after she let the rage take control of her.”

“And… what are your own ends?” Otsune asked, feeling a bit scared of the whole situation. She felt amazed at how everyone was remaining calm, the only other person to seem worried was Sakura. Everyone else just looked interested.

“My ends?” she said, anger dripping from her liquid mass. “Revenge.”

“Revenge?” Otsune repeated, ignoring Fujiko’s small scoff of laughter.

“Revenge against all the men of this world. All those that have treated women with contempt and tried to control us just for their petty lusts. Centuries ago, I was made a geisha at an early age.” Her voice fell shrill and hard to hear from below. “My father thought it would be great for me to work as a servant girl for a local feudal lord, but the monster had other, more sickening plans for me. I was only thirteen when it happened. All for their petty lusts.”

“What happened?” Fujiko asked. It sounded like the spirit was crying as it told its story.

“None of your concern,” the water spirit shouted, suppressing everyone. “I shouldn’t have to speak to ignorant morons like you, who let men live with them, lust at them, rape them!”

“That’s enough,” groaned Sagara, his voice loud enough to prevent her from continuing. “Sheesh, if you think they’re ignorant you should try and tell them, not insult them like this.”

“You dare?” the spirit growled, beginning to rise higher into the air.

“Or maybe even open your eyes ears and listen for yourself instead of falling into hate,” he replied calmly. “Whatever your problems in the past were doesn’t explain nor forgive why you possessed this girl. Not to mention that I’ve never lusted after or raped anyone… At least, I don’t think I have.” Naomi looked at him angrily before responding.

“I needed someone like me, someone who hated men too.”

“Natoko doesn’t hate men…” Aki started, the spirit scoffing stopping her words.

“She certainly doesn’t harbour any good will towards them. I can sense her feelings even now. She doesn’t know that many and those she does know she dislikes for some reason or another. But hatred wasn’t necessary to possess her, I only needed anger and a strong body.”

“Well, now you don’t,” Sagara said simply and with a grin. “So why don’t you get out of here.”

“What?” the spirit said surprised.

“Well we certainly don’t want you around here, and if you’re not a demon, I guess I’m not supposed to handle you. Though I am confused as to what you even are.” He seemed bemused for a moment, honestly uncertain. “I can’t just destroy an angry spirit that’s having trouble confronting traumatic experiences it faced in the past. That’ll get me in a whole world of trouble, especially with my mom.”

“Sagara, I don’t think you want to be annoying an all powerful demon,” Fujiko said quietly.

“It’s not a demon. Natoko would be dead otherwise,” Sagara replied smiling. “It’s just a spirit, and certainly not all-powerful. We both know she can’t possess anyone for a short while. Basics rules of Kotodama.”

Growling once more, the spirit began rising up into the air, clearly intending to leave, knowing it had been defeated. Looking up, it was almost hard to see her with the sun in the way. She called out to them one last time.

“I will return, male. I may not be able to have my revenge on the one who ruined me but I can on you. You will see me again. And you will pay for this humiliation with your life.”

“I’ll look forward to it” Sagara replied, waving, appearing completely unconcerned. “See ya around.”

After this it went quiet, it took some of the group a few seconds to notice she had gone. With the sun obscuring their vision, they hadn’t seen her flying off.

“See you around?” Otsune repeated, with a glare in her eyes to the naïve boy.

“What?” he said defensively. “It was a good fight.”

“Where’d she go?” Fujiko asked, blinded by the both the sun and her squinted eyes.

“Probably to a source of water. She can’t last that long outside, especially on a hot day like today,” Sagara said, walking up to Natoko and picking her still unconscious body. “Come on. Let’s take her to her room.”

“Will she be okay?” Aki whimpered quizzically, looking like a mewling cat.

“She should be fine,” Sagara replied in a reassuring way. “She’ll need a lot of water though. The spirit probably took about six pints with her.”

“I’ll go get some,” Aki said, dashing off ahead, grabbing a hot springs bucket as she did.

“Not too much.” Sagara shouted after her. “Just a cup for now.” The rest of the group followed quietly behind as they re-entered Heavenly Springs, the battle over, but with many questions remaining, probably to do with how corny the spirit was being.

The next day started as most days did in the world. And let’s be honest you all know what happens, so let’s skip the sunrise bit. Slowly shifting into first gear, Sagara’s body woke up with the sun glaring through his window like a peeping tom, who had just realized that it wasn’t a girl’s room it was looking into, but then realized that it didn’t actually mind.

Sitting up, his first thoughts were to tumble out of his mouth as a line of drool, emptying his brain and knocking him straight back out. Acting on its own, his body proceeded to crawl over to the door as it completely refused to let him stand up, insisting that it was okay thst he have a lie in as his arms did their morning exercises. Crawling up to and leaning against the door, they slowly pushed themselves up it in order to pull down the door handle.

Which didn’t actually exist of course. The doors at the Heavenly Springs slid open, but his body wasn’t to know that. They had enjoyed a peaceful, uncomplicated life of using little brass knobs to make their way through rooms and they weren’t going to switch just because a different culture insisted upon it. It wasn’t until convenience struck and he lent on the edge of the door that it finally opened enough to slide the unconscious body through before completely falling back on the floor. The hands began sliding the body across the wooden floors of the Heavenly Springs youth dormitory, which had been expertly polished by its landlord.

It may have been a normal enough scene for anyone that knew the boy, but it caused Aki to stare at the mass of limbs in front of her with the same mixed expression of amusement and bewilderment that one usually reserved for car accidents. Letting her toothbrush remain hanging out of her mouth as the boy’s body crawled to the toilet, the young girl took a moment to examine the water she had just gotten from the tap for anything suspicious in it that could cause Sagara to do snake impressions, or at the very least, to cause her to hallucinate that Sagara was doing snake impressions.

His shadow flickering back and forth as it appeared to try and edge his body to wake up, Sagara chose to lay there, his limbs feeling as heavy as mountains and just as immobile, yet still moving all the same. Aki didn’t understand this, and turned round to find another bathroom to spit into.

This time his legs, which had also begun to wake up, began to push the mass of the teenager’s body across the shiny floor in the direction of the bathroom, which, luckily enough, was a few feet away and did have a door handle. The left hand made an attempt to grab hold of the metal object and let gravity take effect as it fell upon it, opening the wooden door with a loud creak that clearly didn’t come from the hand. The crawling continued over to the sink and to a trained scientist in the field of astronomy it would seem strange if not impossible how a body would have any knowledge of a sink in a room it has never been in before without the aid of any senses. This was only relevant to the astronomer however and thus ignored, especially by the hand, which had now gained enough leverage to push its body up enough to allow the head to rest in the sink. The hand started to turn the tap on as the water started to pour on its owners face. It had no instant effect, but as the bowl filled, water began to enter those holes in which Sagara used for breathing 95% of the time. It was only when his lungs began to drown did Sagara finally woke himself up.

Jumping up and coughing profusely, Sagara thought of nothing, mainly due to desperation caused by nearly drowning in an embarrassing three inches of water. When he finally had stopped choking, he found himself wondering where he was, having never been in one of the many bathrooms of this dormitory before (which made last night suspicious). A quick look outside the door to the corridor beyond revealed his answer to him. With that sorted, he promptly fell back to sleep, no reason left to stay awake, landing with a thud onto the hall floor.

 

Half an hour later, the body of Sagara was guided into the main dining room of the hotel with the assistance of a now fully roused mind, ready to start a fresh new day with more of the exercise stuff that would soon end him up with the same problems as he faced half an hour ago. Gen had told him they all ate together here, and he had experienced a delicious meal of some strange things that he didn’t quite understand in a soup bowl just last night, enjoying it with just the company of his cousin, Otsune and an intoxicated Fujiko who didn’t seem to care too much for her clothing.

As with all Japanese buildings, the room was rather large and yet relatively simple, similar to a rhinoceros or dinner lady. It was split into three areas, the first section consisted of the three piece, black leather suite that Gen had been proud about buying for the dormitory girls. There was also a coffee table, a TV, which underneath held a vast quantity of electronic goodies including a karaoke machine, a girl whose name escaped him like a convict jumping out the corridors of his memory and into a blue ocean of forgetfulness, and a rather large DVD collection. The next part was a dining table with six seats. The table had been partly set and it looked like it was being prepared for breakfast. It seemed the breakfast was being made up in the next part of the room, split off by a set of empty doors and window frames. Inside it was the entrance to the kitchen, where there was another girl.

The girl whose head was currently hidden under the television, a scene which could have only been made more alarming if there were a pool of blood spreading out from under the electronics tower, didn’t respond to his presence as he passed her. It looked like she was trying to fix something, whistling a happy, completely out of tune melody that encroached on his tone deaf ears with unwelcome cacophony. He moved on to the kitchen, where another girl was cooking peacefully to herself, stirring around soup in the pot of the stove.

Being unable to remember this girl’s name, Sagara was completely unsure if he had even met her. She looked to be about twelve years old, making her possibly the youngest member of the hotel he had met so far. Even so, it was hard to remember if he had seen her. There had been a lot of girls meeting him last night, and they were all starting to blur together, forming the ultimate female monster that could destroy the world, allowing the great Black queen to rule over its remains unless he called upon his giant robot Nikuzoid to save the day. Not wanting to offend the girl if he had forgotten, he figured an open approach would be the best way to get food.

“Hey.”

The scream that emitted from her mouth was about as welcome as a triple heart bypass to his left leg, and Sagara immediately feared for his safety, wondering whether or not he should call upon his robot weapon now, and fight her off with his meaty blade of justice before she transformed into her giant form.

“What do you want?” she replied, shuddering in the corner of the room she had jumped to. He decided against summoning, knowing that to do so would only accelerate the monster’s growth. Instead, he spoke to her.

“I just came to say hello,” he told her, holding his hands up to signify he was harmless, despite being able to kill her at least fifty two and a half different ways with each hands. “Mom always said to introduce myself to people who feed me food, except in restaurants.”

“Er, hello,” she said, her voice still full of worry. It was like she was an Iuga, he probably thought, which sucked intelligence out of people by vibrating violently near them. Sticking his hand out to her like a suicide expert would do to a rabid dog, he smiled as she took his hand, and helped the girl back up. Looking embarrassed at her actions, it took her a moment to speak again. Sagara took this moment to try and remember if he knew her or not.

“I’m Sakura Tamburo,” she said timidly, bowing slightly. “Pleased to meet you.”

Excellent. He hadn’t met her, nor had he bothered to remember her name as she said it.

“Sagara Futabatei,” he replied, bowing along with her. Mom had also warned him of the bowing thing. They only used it in the village during important rituals, but they apparently used it all the time here. The lower the better was the general rule.

“Would you like some breakfast?” she asked him, now smiling a little as she calmed down.

“Yes please,” he answered quickly, relishing the smell that could kill off most violent bad smells in mere instants with its super powerful energy ball attack. He couldn’t see what was cooking, as it was covered by the lid, but it smelled really, really yummy. Seeing his reaction, Sakura giggled lightly.

“I meant cereal,” she said, pointing over to one of the cupboards and coming closer to her death than she had ever been in that one, brief moment.

“I can’t have this?” he whimpered, looking over the metal pots on the stove.

“It isn’t for breakfast. This is just me practicing.”

“You practice cooking?”

“Yeah, when I grow up it’s my dream to be a chef and open up an Italian Restaurant, so I do it when I can.”

“Italian?” Now that he looked, it looked to be spaghetti bubbling away in the pot. In another, tomatoes bubbled away in a pan laden with mince, the onions eliciting a smell which made his tongue want to kill her and take it all for himself.

“This isn’t exactly practice I guess. It’s for the service we’re holding at my church this evening. Ah, you should come.”

“I should?” Sagara replied, his mind trying to jump away from the conversation and into the pan of boiling spaghetti.

“Yeah, you don’t know anyone here, do you? You’ll meet plenty of people there.”

“What type of church is it?” he asked tentatively. Noticing this, Sakura seemed hesitant.

“It’s for Catholics. But that doesn’t matter, you can still come.”

“No. I can’t. Thank you.”

“But…”

“No,” he replied sternly, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain. Pulling back dejectedly, Sakura stared down to the floor.

“S-s-sorry,” she whimpered, sniffing louder than she had spoken so far. Sagara watched with mild bewilderment as the girl inhaled quickly, looking like she was about to cry. “I…I didn’t…”

She was crying, her sniffs quickly turning to rejected sobbing and finally a hand covering her face as she went to get away, trapped in the dead end side of the kitchen. With little to no idea of what to do, Sagara looked towards the sofa, to find Aki no longer there. He then looked towards the pot, which was bubbling. With no other idea in his mind, he moved up beside her and grabbed her in his arms, trying his best not to imagine turning her upside down and thrusting her head into the pot, instantly scalding her head and doing severe brain damage as scorching water came in through her eyes, thus solving the tears problem.

He held her tightly, feeling her struggle for a second, before giving up and embedding her eyes onto his chest, letting herself blubber away in front of a total stranger. He had no idea how he made her cry, and it didn’t look like he’d be able to stop it. “Sorry about this,” she huffed on his stomach. “Sorry. I’m so silly.” Hearing her apologies, he didn’t answer, instead looking desperately around the room for someone to magically appear and help him get this problem off his chest.

The creaking of the floor indicated a newcomer to the room. There, standing by the door frame, stood the sword girl that had attacked him the day before, now even wetter than she had been then. Entering the room, clutching her sword as if someone was pulling on the other end and she didn’t want them to have it, she stared firmly at the new guy, with a look of disgust plainly written on her face, although not in biro.

“What the blazes do you think you are doing?” she shouted at him. Her voice booming through the small kitchen, causing the girl in his arms to shift to see who it was. Both saw Natoko look even more horrified as she witnessed the girl’s tear stricken face.

“Monster!” she declared. “You come in here and you…”

***

“…seemed to have calmed down a little, haven’t they?”

“I’m glad. At least the place won’t get burned down by crazy old people… for now” Gen’s voice turned to a mutter, seeing an angry Natoko clutching her sword at its hilt, threatening to pull it and decapitate Sagara in the same moment. What had they just missed?

“No, Natoko,” Sakura screamed out, her cheeks sore with tears. “It’s okay. I just got a little silly again and…”

“It’s okay, Sakura. You’re not the one at fault here,” Natoko said, interrupting the younger girl through seething teeth and a finger pointed directly at Sagara. “This cowardly freak is. I see your sickness for what it is now. I was ready to look past yesterday as an accident, but twice in a row is just too much of a coincidence.”

“Well, coincidence changes on how you look at it-”

“Silence!” she voice boomed, growling at the so called ninja as her hand fell back to her sword. “I can’t stand people like you, going about and trampling over people like they were objects. It’s things like this that’s getting the whole village alienating us.”

“No really,” Sakura piped up again, looking around frantically as everyone stood back, all too shocked to do anything. She barely noticed her own shivering as she defended the newcomer. “He really, really was just being nice. I…”

“Don’t be fooled, Sakura!” Natoko said sternly. “That’s how these jackals work. “Trying to be nice to you just to lull you into false security. All so they can have their way with you, just for their sick needs…”

“Natoko, calm down,” Gen insisted, not wanting a misunderstanding leading to a full on firefight with such expensive furniture around the room. He fell back as Natoko turned her gaze on him, but continued despite his bladder insisting it give up on him. “If Sagara’s done something wrong, or if there’s been a little misunderstanding, then I’m sure we can settle it peacefully- without destroying the room I spent last week decorating.” There was a general murmur of agreement around the room, with the exception of Aki, who had left to dispose of a banana peel.

“Very well,” the sword wielding teenager confirmed, brushing her short black hair back, the sweat matting it into place. “Is there anything you would like to say in order to redeem yourself, ninja?”

All eyes turned to Sagara, the traditional wave of silence entering the room. Even if Sagara had wanted to say something straight away, the wave wouldn’t have allowed him to, since it was dedicated to the art of soap drama.

“Erm… No, not really. I just grabbed her. It was kind of instinctive.”

“Die!” Natoko replied unsurprisingly, her blade leaving the sheath during the few milliseconds Sagara said ‘was’, the metal swinging towards him at great speed. Barely giving Sakura enough time to get out of the way, Sagara swung to the side, letting the sword travel back his nose before recoiling back to its owner, where it immediately shot out again to remove the exact amount of chest flesh required to kill a man from the side. Sagara only just had enough time to jump out of the way, landing next to the dinner table, a distraught Gen and Otsune quickly jumping out of the way.

“Stand still,” Natoko grumbled, losing him for a second as she turned around to meet a fist heading for her face. Fortunately, her own movement was enough for her to get out of the way just in time, and Sagara was too busy skidding to show her a follow up.

“Why should I?” Sagara asked politely. “You’re not even fighting properly.” She verbally growled, detesting the cocky attitude that seemed to mock everything she was fighting for in that moment. Raising her katana above her head, she took a step forward and swung it down at him, releasing all her energy in a cry.

He caught it, finger and thumb lodging the blade between them as if he were holding a penny. Despite herself, she looked up to his face, and realized that, technically he didn’t even had to have caught it off her. His arm was stretched so far out that his body wouldn’t have been touched by the sword.

“You won’t beat me like this.”

“Let go of Iziz!” she muttered breathlessly, seeing him touch her pride.

“That its name?” he asked, as if taken aback by curiosity all of a sudden. “How do you pronounce that again?”

“Let go!” A shout this time, surprising him enough to slip slightly, and allowing her to slip the blade past his fingers with little force. She watched as, in a blur, Iziz thudded to the floor, his fingers barely getting out the way in time.

“Ow!” he screamed out, like he had stubbed his toe, his hand shrinking back with the same speed he had caught it. “Ow, ow, ow,” he continued to whine, inching back and clutching the hand in his armpit as if it could contain the leakage of crimson now seeping out. Natoko wasn’t calm enough to let this opportunity pass her by, and pushed her right leg into the so called ninja, knocking him into one of the dinner chairs and rolling him next to the crouch, where he leaned back, looking as if he had barely noticed being attacked.

The sword landed with a sharp thud, as it embedded into the leather sofa, around three inches from where Sagara’s face was. His eyes darted over to it, and she smiled as she reclaimed her victory.

“I have won,” she stated simply. “Leave this place. This is not your home.”

The air was broken as she removed her sword, going to leave him sitting there, the others looking around disturbed by all that had just happened in the pace of thirty seconds. It wasn’t until Sagara kicked her legs out from under her that he replied.

“What are you talking about? You didn’t win? The sword completely missed me.” He grabbed hold of her shoulder tightly. “And from such close range too.”

“You…” She wanted to say coward, but the words were held back as more air was released, his fist reaching her stomach and slamming into it. She lurched over, but quickly recovered. Her sword still outside its holster, she swung the hilt into his face, the sword’s end cracking into her opponent’s jaw and knocking him straight back down.

“What a pathetic creature you are,” she said, quickly recomposing herself. “A villain who takes advantage of an opponent’s mercy like that deserves nothing.”

“What mer-” but the confused sentence was cut short, as he saw the sword coming to meet with his neck, and not for a discussion about the demeanor of French politics either, but something only slightly worse. There was no time to avoid it, and he could only watch as a small bundle of cotton shot in front of him, causing the blade to stop in its path, just an half an inch in front of a little girl’s nose.

“Stop it please,” Sakura shouted, her hands stretched wide as if they could defend the man behind them and not just get mutilated in the same stroke required to kill him, knees trembling as she saw the blade now hovering inches from her face.

“Get out of the way, Sakura,” Natoko said, doing her best to remain calm, despite her confusion as to why this resident was protecting him. The sword came closer to the girl’s face, and Natoko had to steady herself to make sure it didn’t touch her.

Sagara only waited a moment before acting. Pushing the child in front of him into his opponent, he watched as Natoko’s eyes went wide with shock, and quickly slipped her large knife to its back, the young resident falling on its blunt side harmlessly, before the ninja quickly jumped back up and went to punch the swords woman. Knuckles connected to her face as Natoko felt her jaw go loose under her nose. It felt like her entire body went numb from the one shock, and she fell backwards two steps, only being able to keep up by falling on her ankle and rocking back.

Sakura had quickly got off the sword, bouncing aside in fright as she realized what happened, and backing away from the both of them. Natoko dove forwards, her hands raised.

“Stop this now!” Otsune shouted, stepping in between the two fighters. “What the hell is wrong with the two of you?” She turned to Sagara, her face scrunched up with anger. “How could you even do that? Pushing a child towards a sword like that?”

“I want you out of here, creature,” Natoko said sternly.

“I suppose I should be wanting you out too,” he replied, getting up and walking over to Sakura, his hand resting on her head.

“What?” the swordgirl gasped, before her face curled in anger, her hand clutching the hilt so hard it might draw blood. “You dare…”

Otsune quickly stepped in again, despite a vision telling her that she might be about to spend the rest of her life in two pieces. “Stop! No fighting,” she cried out, letting her hands hover over both participants faces. “Settle this like rational human beings!”

“Very well,” Natoko said, a few seconds of silence filling the room with factory standard anticipation. “Sagara Futabatei, I challenge you to a duel.”

“That’s not rational!” Otsune shouted back, before the ninja could reply. “It’s just stupidity planned out in advance.”

“I accept,” Sagara replied without hesitation.

“No. No accepting!” Otsune called out, slowly beginning to realize that she might no longer be part of the conversation.

“At midday today. In the dry area by the hot springs. Your cousin can show you if you don’t know where that is. If you win, you will be allowed to remain at Heavenly Springs and do as you wish with me. If you lose however, I will be allowed to do what I want with you- and I don’t intend to just toss you out.”

“Are you crazy?” Otsune piped in. “You plan to kill him? You can’t do that.” Even though Otsune felt a little compelled to allow that course of action herself. “He’s a guest, just like us. He hasn’t even done anything to you.” Natoko turned to face her elder, anger and confusion warping on her face at the girl’s words. “Besides, it should be up to Gen who stays and who goes.”

Gen sprung to attention at this, mumbling to himself, pressing his forefingers together as he thought of something to say.

“Well, er….. I guess,” he stammered.

“Ah, don’t worry about it, guys,” Sagara called out calmly, as all eyes turned to him. He hadn’t stopped staring at Natoko the entire time. “I’ll fight. Sounds like fun.”

“Fun?” Otsune. “She just…”

“Well, I guess there are other reasons,” he interrupted her.

“And what would they be?” Natoko spoke back, anger in her voice this time.

“You know more than me,” Sagara turned and walked out the room, making a beeline for his bedroom. “See you at midday.” Natoko watched with the others, until he was out of earshot, slowly replacing her weapon into its sheath, the slow movement creating a screeching sound.

“I will be up on the roof. Please do not disturb me until it is time,” she said, exiting to the left, leaving the people in the room motionless like an evil villain had frozen them all with freeze spray. All except for Aki, who had moved to the window to continue eating, happily muttering to herself.

“Dammit!” Otsune growled, her frustration caught in her hair as her hands threatened to pull it out. “Freaks. Both of them freaks! What kind of morons schedule a fight to the death? Everyone’s a freak, even you. Especially you.”

“Er… sorry,” Gen apologised.

“I mean, am I missing something here?” she complained, heading for the door. “Even if demons do exist, it’s not like our laws have changed or anything. What isn’t there to understand? They’re going to kill each other. It’s illegal.”

“What? Demons?”

Her voice drowned off into the distance, Gen quickly accompanying the two girls, and leaving Sakura alone again. She shuddered at the thoughts surrounding her, barely noticing that her spaghetti was overflowing.

In a position trying desperately to keep her modesty intact, Otsune’s hand felt a tempo beating beneath her breast. Increasing in speed, it was all she could feel as her body refused to move. She felt trapped. Her glasses were left in the changing room, her eyes displaying her surroundings blurred, the remaining four senses enough to tell her the truth lying naked in front of her, as equally naked as it was unequally woman.

“Who the hell are you?” she shouted at the top of her voice directly at the intruder. Mentally she tried to stay calm. Situations like these were best controlled by keeping your aggressor unbalanced. Screaming may look like an emotive response. But it changed the game that was being played, even if that game was apparently the intruder attempting to go back to sleep. Not willing to take any crap from him, she stood up, lifted her fist and began to lunge forward, her fist flying at high speed towards the now unconscious boy.

It didn’t matter apparently. The boy vanished as her fist hit rock. Clearly the weaker substance of the two, sharp pain erupted from her knuckles as they collapsed into the stone before her, adding to the bruises already self-inflicted earlier that day. It lifted back up of its own accord. Her hand screamed at her, causing her to respond in kind.

Her mystery opponent had jumped about seven feet away from the her, landing on a rock at the edge of the water. He seemed ready for a fight, a fist just in front of his head and the other arm in front of his chest. Then, just as sudden, he dropped his hands.

“Hey calm down,” he called over to her, waving more than just his hands in her direction. “All I asked for was for you to save my place.” Looking towards the floor of the pool, she swore she could feel the blood rushing through her temples. She just wanted a peaceful day. A nice, relaxing day to just fall into the Springs for a few hours- even ten minutes would have been nice. Now there was a guy in the pool. This was the last thing they needed. If rumours of a man here got out, it would like be confirming all the stupid townspeoples’ paranoid rumours. It was something like this being exactly why she was trying to convince Gen to sell off in the first place.

She was reminded in the bluntest possible way that he was naked.

“What’s wrong?” he asked calmly.

“Help!” she shouted again. “Somebody, help!”

“Why?” he asked, looking round. “What’s wrong?”

With a clatter of footsteps on the wooden floor, out rushed Natoko and Fujiko, two of her fellow residents. The second wasn’t the best to see come out as Fujiko, the resident girl who prided herself on gossip, would blab by accident if she wasn’t careful, and with half the internet knowing by sunset if she were careful.

Natoko though was perhaps the most helpful person to appear at this moment. Upon seeing the man, Natoko charged forwards, the water unable to stain even the bottom of her hakama dress. She rose to meet the intruder, katana blade unsheathing in one silent stroke.

“Oh.”

Striking downwards, Natoko’s blade stuck the air in front of the boy’s forehead, looking to leave a nice cleave there. Trying his best to lean to the left, the blade slicing down without him, the intruder was just able to dodge by a fraction, the sharpened edge appearing to nick a few strands of hair, before getting his hand on the hilt of the sword and slamming Natoko forwards. Poor momentum, padded clothing, slippery floor, the girl couldn’t stop herself.

The boy took advantage of this situation immediately, his left foot slipping under her right, it pushed upwards, causing the girl to further lose her balance as her weight was used against her, her polished steel swinging wildly in the tight clutch of her hand as she began to fall back. Not yet finished, he grabbed the inside of her wrist, punching her sword hand with his other, knuckles against knuckles, flesh against flesh. With a sharp piercing cry her sword dropped to the floor, even as her body readjusted its balance and remained on both feet, be it one step back. Seeing her eyes following the blade, as if a hand had been cut off, his fist slammed into her stomach, causing a brutal cough to surge from her throat, taking her to the floor of the springs.

The intruder stopped immediately, standing up straight and quickly backing off.

“Ah, sorry sorry sorry,” he quickly apologized. “Forgot I wasn’t at home. Mom told me not to attack people around here.” He extended a hand to her, waiting patiently for her to accept it, the scowl on her face saying that may take some time. Wanting to help, Otsune stood as far back as possible, too afraid to approach the intruder, a force clearly to be reckoned with and preferably shot at long distance. He looked towards them, and she almost fell back at his serene face. She went to say something, maybe to scream at him again, when she was interrupted by a foot.

Turning out of reflex, the smallest slight redirecting his attention, the intruder must have felt regret at doing so as a small, dark-skinned girl wearing a loose grey shirt and baggy black trousers directed her foot into the limp jaw where the back of his neck had been a second. Head twisting, his body went with it, the force of the attack carrying on through him and throwing him into the water, the attacker landing in the spring at the same time his face did.

“Aki?” Otsune questioned the girl’s sudden appearance, forgetting temporarily who she was talking about. The young African girl specialized in being unexpected, appearing without warning to strike and annoy as only she could, only to quickly return to where she was. She seemed impossible sometimes.

“You leave Natoko alone!” the girl shouted, her accent exploding with immature anger. The boy was looking at her the same way most people did when their mother shot them, blood dripping from his lips, looking to it like he had never seen it before, watching it pour down his chin and into the water, diluting within the murky liquid.

“But she attacked me first, I did nothing wrong,” he explained, his voice still sounding bright and careful, causing Aki’s face to drop back almost instantly, as she had realized the truth of the situation. Otsune felt her face cringe, jolting her neck at the same time. Aki would believe him as well.

“Done nothing wrong? You were staring at me in the nude,” Otsune interjected. Her voice trembled at the end there, her mind quickly deciding to omit the parts that would have given him a semi-decent right to watch. The intruder looked shocked for a moment, and his blinking seemed to shake his entire head. “Huh? I was sleeping. You were the one who sat by me, remember? You started saying stuff and I mumbled. Then there was an urge for juice, and I think I fell asleep.”

Aki was helping Natoko stand up.

“That’s because I couldn’t see who you were,” Otsune’s argued back across the water, her anger justifiably high in her opinion. “And you were so obviously not sleeping, you were just pretending so you could get a look? You’re just a trespassing pervert!”

“But why would I even want to look at you naked?”

Otsune went to answer, but Fujiko’s sniggers stopped her. Her eyes still showing her the boy blurred. She felt a growl coming on. It actually felt like he seemed honestly confused at her anger. This was stupid. He had been naked in their pool of all things! Her thoughts stopping again, she quickly realized that he was still naked and turned; hiding her eyes from the blurred mosaic he had no intention of covering up.

“What are you doing here?” Fujiko asked beside her, now standing besides her friend with a towel and trying to sound like she was in control. “This is private property-well…sort of.”

“Oh that, I was invited by…”

“Liar!” Otsune interrupted, her anger flaring, not allowing him a chance to explain. Give anyone a chance to explain and they’ll rationalize anything. “You’re just another pervert. Aki. Keep him here while I call the police.” Turning, she made her way towards the entrance where her clothes, and more importantly, her glasses were. Aki pulled her fist back, more than happy to follow orders.

“I was invited by my cousin,” the boy shouted, making sure he was heard. “My name is Sagara Futabatei.” Everyone in the pool froze, Otsune turned back, looking at him in shock as, five feet away from them, the fence collapsed with a small detonation that boomed through the vicinity, a whirring sound tearing into the whole conversation as the DoomWheel tore into the pool.

Gasping loudly as she turned towards the even newer interruption, Otsune’s mind threatened to break upon itself. She just wanted a quiet afternoon! Then she got an intruder thrown in her face and now… now she wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking at.

It looked like a giant wheel, but with ancient, rusted hubcaps and tires that belonged on monster trucks. Spiky protrusions stuck out of every direction possible, some with bits of wood and metal hanging off of them, implying that a fence and lamp post had felt its wrath.

“Ah, there you are,” Sagara said, now completely ignoring those around him. “I’ve been looking for you. Well, not completely.”

“And I have been waiting!” the giant wheel said, with a voice that demanded respect despite the fact it was coming out of rubber. It somehow reminded Otsune of an ear test that she had decided she didn’t need to go to. “Your pursuit of me has not been very active, Demon Hunter. The time I have had to wait for you to wake up is insulting.”

“Sorry,” the original intruder apologized with a nervous grin. “But Hot Springs are so nice. You should join us before we try to kill each other.”

In response to the invitation, the giant spiked tire only swore, before spinning on the spot like a buzzsaw. Otsune’s brain failed to figure out how it was doing it, watching the spikes scratching the same area of rock over and over again as it sped up. It was revving, but common knowledge told her it was the gearbox that did that, not the wheel. A spinning wheel should still travel!

She felt Fujiko slowly back off behind her, pulling her arm to urge her to do the same. Natoko was standing back up, looking like she was about to slowly slide up to her friends, but ended up rolling over to catch her sword instead. The roll looked forced and, as she stood up, she held her free hand to her stomach, breathing heavily. With a mighty roar of an engine (which considering the lack of a car didn’t make sense either!) the giant tire sped forwards, screeching as it sent water flying in all directions.

The intruder just stood there, waiting with a smile on his face that looked like it wanted to become roadkill.

Then he was gone, the tire crashing over him and crushing him before Otsune could even see him disappear. Turning with a squeal, Otsune kept to the side, years of cartoons telling her that running straight back would only lead to doom.

But that was when the screeching stopped.

Her leg felt like it had landed in cement, her entire body stiffening as she turned back round to see what had caused the monster to stop, but there was only Natoko, standing right in front of it, her sword jammed below one of the spikes.

“What is this?” the machine shouted angrily, its invisible engine revving a few times. “What are you?”

“I will not permit any danger to my friends,” the girl muttered weakly, her breathing still haggard from the punch. Despite the scene in front of her, Otsune could only find herself thinking how, if her friend was able to stop this, an event surely impossible in itself, then how could the boy, who had just been a bug on a windshield, be so easily stopped.

Then she saw the boy.

Standing perfectly still- and not at all like a bloody stain for that matter, the boy’s smile seemed to hit harder than the fact he was still here. His hands now clutching what looked to be a beautiful piece of silk, Otsune’s eyes followed until she realized the long piece of rope had punched a hole through both the rusted hubcaps, streaming firmly through the middle of the monster and out the other end to where Sagara held onto it.

“Why couldn’t you have shown up in private?” the boy called Sagara said shouting loudly for the wheel to hear him over the noise. “You’re making me break the rules here.” It growled, trying to spin again, but unable to, both Natoko and the intruder jamming it. Water splashed violently throughout the spring, lightly showering most of the people there, but the intruder only looked like he enjoying it. He waited for the monster to stop revving, the engine now panting as it ground to a halt again, before looking over to Natoko. “Could you get out of the way please?”

“What?” Natoko muttered, looking pissed that the intruder was even daring to speak to her.

“It’s already defeated. It just needs to fall apart,” he explained, like a teacher telling a student they had forgotten their bag. Natoko looked forwards, looking a little unsure of whether she could let go without it crushing her, before quickly skimming off to the side, her sword the last thing to leave it.

From twelve o’clock to three o’clock, the wheel screamed as a quarter of its upper body just broke off, Otsune realizing for the first time that the silky cord had actually roped itself around the wheel twice and in different directions. Not speeding on as it looked like it might, the strange contraption rolled forwards once, before trapping itself in its gap, its innards falling out of the empty space, a mix of needless cogs and springs tat looked like they couldn’t possibly be the buoyancy the tire needed to continue being a tire.

“Is it broke?” Fujiko asked, when the deafening crash subsided.

“Are we broke?” Otsune mumbled off hand. “It’s beginning to feel like that.”

“It can’t die like that,” the intruder explained, the strangely silky rope now completely gone. “You can’t kill a demon properly in this realm, you can only break the connection it’s made to the object, destroy the connection of the kotodama.”

Otsune glanced to Fujiko, to see that the girl had the same expression that must have been on her own face, before turning back to the boy, who had muttered something about waking him up later, before crashing back down into the pool. “Who on earth are you?” she screamed at him. “Wait no, I don’t care about that. What was that thing? And that rope you have. How did it fall apart? And where did the laws of physics go?” Before anyone could answer, a high-pitched squeal resonated from the other side of the springs, turning all heads to the doorway where another young girl stood. Dressed in her regular hoodie, Sakura stared at the boy, an innocent look of horror plastered over her face as she stared at the naked intruder.

***

 

Late. Late. Running late. The sooner I’m there, the better. Sooner I’m there, the sooner I can ask.

But i can’t reveal myself here.

Crap! Right. Need to ask elsewhere. Where? The InBetween Realm. That’s the only safe place.

Need to get him there. Can’t just ask.

Uninjured.

Need to get him there uninjured.

How do I do that?

***

 

Everyone had quickly moved to the foyer, partly because it was the nearest open space in the hotel from the Hot Springs, and partly so they could kick the intruder out as fast as possible once it had been decided that they should. Sagara was now fully dressed and not embarrassing the impressionable young children around him. He was still soaked, as the girls had not allowed him the usual allocated time required to dry one’s self, instead throwing his clothes at him and insisting he do it whilst still in the Hot spring, before pushing him into the changing rooms. They had also barely given him any time to put his clothes back on, not wanting to risk the chance that he would just run away. Although Fujiko had pointed out that the best way to prevent him running away would be to not have let him get dressed at all, none of the others seemed too keen with this suggestion.

Otsune had been allowed the allocated time to dry herself and was currently in another room doing so. The girl he had punched was currently sitting opposite him, her arms folded, staring at him with an intensely grim look on her face, her sword held against her shoulder. It probably wasn’t helping his position much that he was staring right back at her with the same grin upon his face that he had when he hit her. Aki was doing nothing now to conceal her presence, as she tried her best to distract Natoko without actually getting in her friend’s field of view.

The small black haired girl whom he had made such a memorable first impression on was sitting quietly on her own on a separate chair, mainly looking down at the floor, but with an occasional glance in Sagara’s direction.

“So…you’re a demon hunter?” Fujiko asked him in a ‘so much conversation happened when you weren’t looking’ sort of way, sitting with her feet on the table, thus preventing his most obvious escape route long enough for the others to stop him.

“Demon hunting ninja,” Sagara corrected.

“As you say,” Fujiko agreed naturally. “And that thing was a demon?”

“Not the tire,” he corrected. “The tire had just been warped by the long term effects of a Possession of Kotodama, but the demon was controlling it.”

“Ah, of course,” Fujiko said, with a loud air of sarcasm. Fifteen seconds clicked loudly on the clock, before she realized he hadn’t noticed. “What the Possession of Kotodama?”

“You don’t know?” he asked back, looking confused.

“No.”

“Well,” he started to explain. “You know how everything has a voice, right?”

“Everyone?”

“No. Everything.”

“No.”

“Oh…” he said, clearly surprised. “Well, everything does have a voice, although I guess humans can’t hear them.” He took a moment to process his own statement. “And the demons hijack that voice, gaining the right of possession over the object. And, over time, it can deform the object and do what it wants with it, often going around to perform acts of evil, in this case, making challenges to strong warriors and then humiliating them.” He paused again. “Though I guess it didn’t get chance to do that this time. Normally it would use the item to make its mark on the human world, usually through acts of evil. I think this one was based on pride or something like that. Do you know what pride is? Tell me if I’m confusing you.” Fujiko remained staring at the interrogatee for a moment, nodding her head in time to his words, before turning to the others with defeat on her face.

“Help,” she whimpered, but no one responded. No one knew exactly how to. Their first thought had been to call the police, but calling attention to such a scene would probably cause more problems than the ones they were currently suffering.

“What are we going to do about the tire?” a sixteen year old called Junko pointed out, scrutinizing the newcomer like he was a badly created piece of art. She had passed by the scene just minutes after it had happened, and was suffering the obvious cognitive difficulties involved in seeing a massive pile of rubber, springs and cogs. “It’s too big for any of us to pick up.”

“And it’s in the Hot Springs…”

…

…

 

Silence reigned a peaceful dictatorship for a few moment, only Aki still moving about, still trying to annoy her friend.

“Oi you,” the intruder said without warning, catching everybody’s’ attention. “Sorry.” The apology was so bland and unexpected, that it seemed to take a moment for Natoko to realize he was talking to her. The response she gave could only be considered a growl. Standing up impassively, she secured her sword in her belt, before turning around and walking away, leaving out of the main entrance as another girl entered it. Sagara looked around a little confused, waving his head side to side, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Hey, Tina!” Aki called out, as she ran past the girl coming in, following Natoko out of the room. “Ew, you stink.”

Fujiko coughed in response to this, her hand covering her mouth. “Oh, she’s right, girl. Where the hell have you been?”

Tina, a ginger haired girl who wasn’t Japanese, possibly German, but irrelevant to the main storyline nonetheless, looked down at the floor, frowning for a second. “I…I fell into the lake.”

“You got pushed again?” Fujiko nearly shouted, now standing up and giving Sagara the opportunity to rush for freedom, which he didn’t do. “You have got to show me these people sometime, girl.”

“No, no, really, I just…”

“I can’t believe some of the people around here,” she said as she approached the girl, getting two feet away from her before lurching back. “You don’t treat foreigners like this. You shouldn’t treat anyone like this…”

“It’s okay, Fujiko,” Tina tried to say reassuringly, convincing no one. “I just need to wash up and then…” Her eyes darted to Fujiko’s side and she quickly followed out of the room, her bag full of clanking glass as she did so.

“What? She hasn’t bought more perfume, has she?” Junko exclaimed, as she caught sight of the disappearing bag.

The point became mute as Otsune entered the room, along with the landlord of the dormitory, looking around vaguely confused. Otsune was strangely calmer now, almost appearing giddy at being able to get rid of Sagara as soon as possible.

“This is the guy,” she said, indicating Sagara. “He claims he’s your cousin, so you should know him right?”

“I haven’t seen my cousin in years, so…” but he was cut off as the girl pushed him in front of the intruder, who stared at him like he was a giant pillow made out of hamsters.

“I don’t know you,” Sagara stated, Otsune’s face instantly curling up into a grimace at the intruder’s own confession.

“I’m…” Gen stuttered, eyes darting around like he wasn’t sure he should say anything or not, “Futabatei Gen.”

“Oh,” Sagara said, his face brightening up as he fumbled in his pocket. “Here.” Passing him a letter, Sagara backed off, giving the feeling it would explain everything.

As Gen went to open it, the letter tried with all its might not to let him. There was no way it was going to let a weakling like this beat it, and it resisted with all it might to stop the massive finger from ripping open its glue trapped confines. But try as it might, there was no way for the paper to prevent the fact that it was a lifeless inanimate object, and it tore apart accordingly. Inside was a letter.

 

 

Dear Gen

               It’s your aunt. How are you? Would like to say it’s nice to see you but unfortunately I am talking through the interdimensional fabric known as a sheet of paper, so I  can’t. Your mother tells me that you somehow inherited the old hotel. I guess your grandmother must have realized that it was the place where you had the most fun as a child, so yeah, congratulations on that. Be careful, that old place has a trick or two to it. There’s also possibly some booby traps and sealed demons still lying around j/k lol. Remember. Demons don’t exist.

There’s a family get together in the works, but in MHO, it won’t happen for a year, since no one can really be bothered with scrounging up travel money. We might end up invading the hotel if need be, but we’ll give you some warning in advance. Until then, I hope to see you soon. TTYL

 

 Futabatei Tenma

 P.S- Do you have e-mail or Messenger. ?f so, my account’s supersamuraininjagal@hotmail.com I’m really getting into at the moment, so I’ll be on all the time

 P.P.S- Sagara should be coming over next week.

“Well…” Gen said as he finished reading the letter that Sagara had handed him. “That’s my aunt’s signature. I remember it from the Christmas card last year.”

“Very well,” Otsune replied, sounding dejected. “Wait. She signed a Christmas card?’

“Well,” he muttered. “Yeah.”

“I guess that means he is your cousin?” the student asked rhetorically, her own head just above Gen’s shoulder.

“I suppose so,” Gen replied, looking over the letter irksomely, as if there were supposed to be something else on it. “At least, I assume so. She…barely mentions him…” His head shot up, his face doing its best to brighten itself, like a match that was about to go out. “Long time no see then, it’s been about ten years since we last saw each other here.”

“One of us cheated at cards the last time we met.”

Gen failed to suppress a nervous smile. “Er, we did?”

“No. Only one of us,” continued Sagara. “Anyway, I’m staying in Japan for the next few weeks so I can…”

“Shut up,” Otsune interrupted with a harsh shout. “Why did you lie to us?”

“What?” came in Gen. “When did he lie?”

“He said,” Otsune thrust her face towards Sagara’s, “that you had invited him over to stay.” She turned to Gen. “Yet you didn’t recognize him. Why did he lie?”

“Because you were being scary at me,” Sagara explained. “You would have kicked me out if I had said I was just here to see him, so I said he had invited me to stay indoors. It’s taken me ages to get here, and sleeping in streets gets people poking me and stuff late at night.”

“See, Miss Tsunade?” Gen said. “His explanation is reasonable, he would have to go on the streets again.” This stuck in Gen’s head for a few seconds, and his brain waited patiently as the landlord absorbed the information. “You’ve been living on the Streets?”

“Bet you a hundred he’s just a hobo,” Fujiko commented to Sakura.

“Yeah,” Sagara said with a small smile. “Mom didn’t give me much money. She wanted me to learn how to survive without relying on her or the family. The Initiation Ceremony of the Enforcer of the Balance or something. Anyway, the plane trip here sucked out all of my cash funds, so I had to walk from the airport to your parent’s house. It took about five days and I ended up missing the bridge on the first day and going in the wrong direction. And then I found you were here. Your parents were kind enough to pay for the taxi from there to here. That’s a point, I should tell them I’m here. Can I use the phone?”

“You missed the bridge?” Otsune muttered. “But it’s right by the airport.”

“Sure,” stuttered Gen, still going over in his mind what Sagara must have been through. “Actually,” he interrupted as Sagara picked up the reception phone. “Why don’t I show you to your room first? There’s plenty to spare. Then we can get you some food. You can call my parents later.”

Sagara stomach rumbled at this like a deep rumbling sound that would have come from his stomach, was he very hungry, which he currently was.

Otsune followed, more curious than suspicious of the boy now. The possibility that he was just stupid rather than a pervert had become more probable, though the childish part of her mind was also playing with the idea that he might be some kind of perverted evil genius that used this act in order to get off being caught. If this was the case, they were all in grave danger.

“Hey,” Gen started. “Why are you here anyhow? You didn’t get to say.”

“Oh yeah,” Sagara replied, only just remembering himself. “I’m going to a martial arts tournament being held in the city.”

“Huh? You came all this way just to see a tournament?” his cousin replied confused.

“To enter,” he quickly corrected. “Well, it’s not in the city as such, but I need to go there to register.”

“Are you even any good?” Otsune asked, apparently amused.

“I beat your friend, didn’t I?” He pointed out, still with a smile on his face. “What was her name?”

“Natoko,” Otsune answered. “But you got your ass kicked by Aki. She’s not skilled at all. She’s just hyper.”

“These things happen, plus I was in the Hot Springs.” Otsune stared at him again, not quite sure how this was a factor in the subject. Gen spoke up during the silence.

“But still, coming all the way to Japan, just for a tournament?”

“Well, I have ninja stuff to do as well,” Sagara admitted, lowering his voice a little as he said it. It sounded like he was joking.

“Ninja stuff?”

“Yeah,” Sagara said, before moving his mouth closer to Gen’s ear. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, but you’re family,” he whispered, apparently forgetting Otsune. “You see, I’m a demon hunting ninja on a quest and I have to go to this tournament to handle them ‘as I see fit’.” Gen just laughed nervously, Sagara quickly joining him, but for different reasons. Behind them and able to hear everything, Otsune mused to herself whether or not she should tell Gen about the giant tire that now inhabited the hot springs.

***

As Sagara was led to his new room, where he would then test the room for pushups potential, Yamanaka Natoko stood directly above him on the roof of the Dormitory’s East Wing, sword unsheathed and pointing in front of her. Swining the blade again and again, its polished edge coming back down in front of her each time, she exhaled violently, trying to release her frustrations with each strike. Each stroke cleaner than the last, almost as if a cleaning lady was polishing the blade with each stroke, each time just avoiding mutilation, which was good since she couldn’t afford the medical bills. The seventeen year old never wavered, trying to focus on everything and nothing at the same time, even as her emotions took up all her attention.

It had been her first fight.

Her first proper fight. Not a kata duel, nor a sparring session, not even a tournament duel or scaring off some bratty punk that had tried to get more than friendly with any of the residents since the new landlord arrived. A proper, real life fighting situation, where some stranger had intruded and was attacking her friends.

And she lost.

Not just lost, but utterly beaten. Her reactions had been good. She hadn’t hesitated in the slightest. She judged the situation, determined the interloper’s intentions, the distance between and the initiative of attack. She even had a sword. Everything should have been right.

Yet he did one better. She cursed herself- him as well. Didn’t she already get past the transition from dojo to street? Didn’t she understand real life situations, and how they were different from the training? She thought she would be ready, yet she wasn’t. He cheated and took advantage of her slight slip when she landed in the water. It was a cowardly tactic, but it had worked. If she was supposed to be a proper swordswoman, she should have been above such cheap tricks.

She didn’t care about the demon, save for him taking the victory when she had the win. It was the image of the boy that kept popping up in front of her, and she imagined herself cleaving him in half each time with her beloved Iziz. The thoughts of her sword caused her to pause for one moment. That was the worst bit of all. He had disarmed her, not only leaving her defenseless, but away from Iziz, her life and blade. No one saw it as she rolled to pick it up, but she felt the embarrassment of scrambling towards it as fast as possible, like a child crawling for its favourite toy. She had faded out of everyone’s sight, and now the boy was the center of attention.

It wasn’t jealously, she told herself, as she began swinging again. It was rage, pouring through her body like boiling liquid. To think that that creature could install itself a place in the dorm as fast as that. It was one thing to have the new landlord being male. He inherited the place, it wasn’t entirely his choice, but to have a boy beat her, kick her when she was down and then ask for a room, was totally unforgivable. Wasn’t she supposed to be the guardian of this place?

Train hard for now, she decided. Tonight and tomorrow, the entire day at school had been spent doing nothing, so there should be no excuse for tardiness. Then, she would challenge him again. If she won, she would take his tournament ticket and have him thrown out of the dormitory. That was justice.

Above her, something came to mind, a presence. Looking up and expecting Aki, a drop of water splashed directly into her eye. As she recoiled from the liquid, more drops followed as a massive downpour started its assault on the dormitory. She looked back up, her Hakama starting to lose its mass in the rain.

The rain felt like it was burning reaching into her. Suddenly, she felt something, striking through her brain and pushing through, a face screaming profanity at her  as the weight of her body doubled in seconds, bringing her to her knees. She tried to resist, her mental faculties awash as this strange, sudden sensation. She coughed and cried without realising, the torrential downpour distracting all of her senses.

But it did not matter, and she ignored this harmless attack upon her fort. She stood  up, feeling suddenly refreshed , even in the dry summer’s night.

Natoko continued her training, her strikes continuing with a little extra zeal behind them. Tomorrow would be a good day. She would remove the vermin from her home. She would protect her friends from his lecherous advances. She would humiliate him. She would kill him.

 

 

The kid got out of the taxi, seeing his destination off in the distance. A large building, standing on top of the tallest hill in the region, situated behind many other, totally irrelevant houses and apartments that belonged to the small, rural village that was a few miles away from the intentionally ambiguous city. The large building had been a hotel in the old days, complete with Hot Springs, but had recently become a Youth Dormitory because of a nearby series of schools two stops away and an estimated net profit higher than what the hotel was earning beforehand.

As his body got used to not having to sit down for three hours in a taxi with broken air conditioning, the teenager took a moment to admire the view, kicking and shaking his legs to get the feeling back in them. Since he had only been in the city areas so far since entering Japan, these more traditional areas were a breath of fresh air, one that didn’t cause him to double over and choke the smeg out of his lungs that the supposedly clean city was filled with.

Instead of car pollution and factory works that were constantly spouting black death into dirty water supplies, there was just fresh air and fields that would be nice to sleep in if they weren’t filled with water and plants. Confirming his path in his head, the mysterious boy who was doubtlessly a main character got moving, guessing there to be at least a mile left to walk and three bridges to cross over to get to where the hotel was waiting for him.

The whole village ahead of him was surrounded by trees, which would have seemed idyllic if not for the implication that the village was created when a group of people walked by, wanting to build a small rural area, with at least three bridges, a youth dormitory, a whole bunch of houses and dirt roads, and determined that the middle of the forest where they were would have to be sacrificed to achieve this. Of course they knew the trees wouldn’t mind, as trees tended to like dirt roads.

The boy stretched his arms out, yawning, even though it was his legs that were aching after being in a taxi for so long with a man who was as polite as he was obnoxiously talkative, Then, slinging his bag over his shoulder, the boy headed towards the direction of the hotel. As he walked, nothing really interesting happened, so we can take this moment to take in his appearance and get that particular detail out of the way.

The young man was still enjoying the years one would enjoy as a teenager, which made sense in a chronological sort of way since he was seventeen years of age. He was as tall as a 5ft 9inch hedgehog and weighed around the same as a lion would if it weighed 175lbs, which it did. The boy wore what looked like a green army T-shirt which stretched on him thanks to his toned chest and a right arm that was slightly bulkier than his left, so it was clear that the lad was well muscled and drank a lot of milk, even though milk does not actually have muscle increasing qualities. His hair was a light brown, with enough ruffle to it to suggest that it hadn’t seen a comb for the last few days, and his chin shone proudly with a layer of stubble from a long time of journeying without remembering a razor. The scruffy little shit also had bright, green eyes which stood out more than other eyes would, unless they happened to be on display and still covered with the blood of the previous owner, and showed themselves to be an important plot detail.

Unaware that he had just been pointlessly scrutinized, the boy continued walking, reaching the bridge with the strangest feeling that someone was examining him. He looked around halfheartedly, not realizing that it would be the first of many times, squinting as the sunshine bounced off the water and into his eyes. The bridge was empty of everything that day, with the fortunate exception of a breathable atmosphere. Being as hot as it was, there weren’t even any puddles in the little bumps that covered the old tarmac, let alone any cars, humans, stray cats or plot devices. The boy yawned, his body lightly bouncing as he plodded cross the long  bridge that passed over a gushing river, his eyes closing slowly as he got halfway across.

Opening quickly, as their owner heard the start of a low rumbling, the two eyes caught sight of a dense misty fog that was surrounding the bridge. Watching with a casual eye, the boy watched as it spread over the bridge until only a few feet in front of him were visible. By the time the mist had covered the structure, it had caught his attention enough for him to stop moving.

He heard footsteps; several sets of them, all at once and all around him. His hearing wasn’t as good as his eyesight, but he could tell it had to be around ten or fifteen people, all sneaking around him in various places and doing a bad job of it considering all the fog. As he heard the hiss of a small engine that couldn’t have been a car, the mist began to move, a haze of distortion dancing around him, showing the beings that were apparently trying to sneak into prearranged places a moment ago. Nine old men were standing there now, looking paradoxically dignified while wearing purple robes with blue trim. Some were wearing straw hats to keep off the heat of the sun. One had gone all the way and had a full wicker basket over his head, hiding his features save for a small barred window that he could see out of. The boy noticed one of the men had been too slow to get to his spot and, realizing that he was out in the open, had quickly changed to a standing position and pretended like all the rest that he had just appeared out of nowhere.

The young man looked at all the old people surrounding him, trying to figure out what their intentions were. They were old, and therefore useless to society, so it probably wasn’t an attack, nor an attempt to sell real estate, an event that had already happened to him two or three times already.

“A new warrior enters the fray,” a man to the right said silently, yet loud enough so people on the other side of the bridge could hear him. “Welcome, Sagara.”

“Huh?” the boy tried to interject, being interrupted straight away.

“Both good and bad times are heralded, and he shall stand in the middle, as his lot have always done.” The boy swung around again. This time it was an old man to his left, but by the time he pinpointed which one it was, the man’s mouth had already closed, making it hard to tell if he had said anything at all.

“Excuse me!” shouted a young delivery girl on a bicycle as she passed through the group, nearly ramming into one of the old men and completely ruining the atmosphere. All the old men glared at her, anger seeping from their pores at the ruination of their one main scene. Although the cyclist was unaware of it, tonight she would be eaten by fire termites and burned alive for her unforgivable actions, though for now she would have to settle to being pushed into the water by the last old man. At the girls sudden scream was silenced by a splash, one of the men found the moment to regain his composure, continuing to speak once again.

“Losses shall be made, and experience gained,” he mumbled quietly, but his words still appeared to be louder than most klaxons. The youth found it very confusing for his eardrums. The other old men had snapped back to attention and finished off by saying all at once:

“It is their path, the only one they can take, and the one only they can take…” All bowed their heads and fell still.

The teenager stood confused as they proceeded to do nothing else whatsoever. The only one left moving, he hovered for a few seconds, briefly wondering if they had all just inconsiderately died without explaining their actions to him. Watching on, waiting for anything to happen, it took him a few seconds before he realized that he had let his bag drop to the floor. He knelt down to pick it up, keeping an eye on the old men, feeling that if he was to look away they would disappear forever, like some bad special effect. Eyes skimming around the bridge, a small box caught his attention.

“Wow, a smoke machine, cool,” the boy we shall now call Sagara stated, rushing up to the small, hissing box past the group in front of him. His outburst knocking them off guard, the old men turned their attention back towards the teenager, mouths falling open in mild bewilderment, all signs of immobility gone as they looked at each other, glancing at each other in uncertainty. Observing the small box for a few seconds, Sagara giggled to himself, blocking the hole and releasing it, getting a huge puff of smoke in his face for his efforts.

“Cool…” he said after doing it again, still sniggering to himself. “But I gotta go. Well, not really. But…y’know.”

The old men continued to stare, the one closest to the boy hadn’t realized that his hat had fallen off and trapped a cat underneath it.

“See ya.” The teenager walked off, leaving them standing there, the ache in their jaws going unnoticed even by the ones who still had teeth. It would take them a few minutes to do anything practical. The old man with a mustache was first.

“Is that…really him?”

“I heard he was somewhat… special” another one, with wrinkles where his mustache should have been, had he not bet it away the other week, began to say, stopping in mid sentence to prevent a coronary.

“Did the cards make a mistake?” the man whom he had bet it to said, trying to scratch the part of his head where he had fitted the mustache only to realize there was a basket in the way.

“We shall have to see,” a fourth stated, thinking it over carefully. “Let us wait here, to see if another teenager fitting the description comes past.”

They would wait the rest of the day. No other seventeen-year-old, tall as a five foot six hedgehog, heavy as a one hundred and seventy pound lion, light brown haired boy who was irrelevantly American with emerald green eyes and a scar down his back would come by that day.

They were more than a little disappointed.

***

 

It’s here! He’s here. At last the stoolie comes.

He’s different from what I imagined. American, definitely American. If the old men hadn’t shown up, I would have passed him off completely. Bloodlines I guess. He must be the first white Futabatei ever. Now I have to wait. Stick to the plan. That’s what’s important. I made the plan and I’ll stick to it. The plan is good, I’ll stick to it the whole way. Making new plans takes too long. Bad enough I had to make a second plan. Old people shouldn’t die so early! They ruin things when they do that.

Stupid. I can’t strike here. Such a shame. It would be easy, but weak I am in body at present time. I need him alone. Totally alone. With that girl following him, and this village defending him, it may take months, when I only have weeks.

But there will be a moment, I know that much. The puppets are already dancing.

***

Finally reaching the top of the steps that led to his destination, the boy called Sagara exhaled as hard as he could, the carbon dioxide being evicted from his body by the nasty landlord of his lungs.

The dormitory that was to be his new home looked nice close up, almost looked like an old castle. It might have even been considered one a few centuries back, except a lot of the outside was made of wood with wide ground floor windows and would have probably been easy to invade on a weekly basis. Casually striding towards what appeared to be the main entrance, still panting from the stair climb, his lungs now throwing out the other tenants that were constantly appearing within its investment, he looked to the wooden doors, which were large and overbearing, making it look even more like an easy to invade castle. Reaching the wooden frames, he wondered if he should knock. It was a hotel, but from what his mother had told him, there might not be a receptionist at all times.

“Mind you, if there was a receptionist, it would be pointless to knock when I didn’t have to. Then again, if there is no one there then knocking would be worthless.” Ignoring the voice telling him this probably counted for trespassing, he pushed the door aside. Peeking inside, he slowly scanned the surrounding area with brown eyes.

“Phew, it’s empty,” he muttered aloud, ignoring the fact again that he probably seemed more and more like a burglar now, especially with the large brown bag on his shoulder. Stepping inside, he began to slip his shoes off on the porch, and then paused with a look of annoyance on his face.

“Am I supposed to have indoor shoes?” He had forgotten them. “I’ve forgotten them.” It would appear that he would have to go barefoot. “I’ll have to go barefoot. Lucky my socks are clean.” Leaving his trainers besides a box containing many other pairs of white shoes, he stepped carefully onto the heavily polished, wooden floor. Being careful not to slip, he pondered his first course of action, deciding in a millisecond to ruin everyone’s day with attention seeking.

“Is anyone here?” he shouted into the air of the hotel. He waited as a small period of uneventful time passed “Hello?” Another small period of time passed and he found himself looking hard at the surrounding furniture, to see if he had somehow mistaken residents for pieces of upholstery. A short period passed again, much longer than the previous one. He gave up waiting.

“Ah well,” he said, dropping his bag in the middle of the empty floor lobby, assuring himself that it wouldn’t disappear until he returned. “Might as well explore.” Picking the first opening to the left, he started to walk down it, sliding against the polished oak as he got moving. Above him, the boy was unaware he was being watched by a certain mysterious girl, of whom importance won’t be realized until around page eighty, but whom much speculation should be made about in the meantime.

His exploration continued for two minutes and, despite finding nothing, boredom was nowhere on the boy’s face. With all the corridors looking the same there wasn’t anything special about the place to see. There was also no sign of any of the inhabitants. He couldn’t have been fully aware of what the situation here was, but he knew there were some people here by the shoes that had been left by the front door.

As he walked, his socks swishing beneath him, his nose suddenly caught a pungent whiff of nostalgia. Memories of humid rose traveled through his nostrils and told him to follow the aroma blindly, threatening to beat him with fruitcake should he refuse. Immediately growing excited, he pushed the doors aside to see a pool of water ahead of him, steam rising from it like anxiety from a poorly written metaphor. Eyes beaming with excitement, he rushed out to the hot springs, his clothing being magically discarded in multiple piles across the rocky floor as he rushed for the nearest pool of water. Slowly, with great anticipation, he placed his toes slowly into the pool below him, the lukewarm feeling accompanying it confirming his wishes.

Sighing with glee at the mere touch of the water soothed his big toe, his body melted further into the pool. Without a towel or any clothing left on, he had no reason to be slow and was soon in the middle, dropping to his knees to enjoy the experience as much as possible. Pretty soon the warm water had covered his body, bubbles emerging from under the blue waters. When he would next come up, it would be by a rock on the far side, where he would lean against before quickly falling asleep.

***

Tsunade Otsune. A beautiful young girl (by her own opinions of course, which was of course the most important opinion of the all, as she had deduced through both scientific equations and a bout of solipsism) at the age of nineteen walked through the same corridor the boy was in a few moments ago, completely unaware of the situation that had previously happened and more importantly, unaware of the situation that was about to happen. Opening the door to the hot springs, she slowly began to remove her clothes from her stunning young body and place them in a small basket. Seeing the other baskets empty, she smiled at the prospect of having some time to herself, grateful for any peace she could get in this place.

Ever since the new manager had shown up a few months back, and had shown himself to be more hormonally challenged than the last owner had been (though only by default), things had been hectic. The number of occupants was small anyway after the guy’s grandmother had died and had now diminished significantly because of him. She couldn’t entirely place blame on the young man. She had already ascertained that he wasn’t that bad of a guy or anything. He was just at that cliché age where he spoke to a girl’s chest instead of her face.

“Stop,” she sad to herself. “Relax. Enjoy yourself.” She took her glasses off and placed them on top of her clothes, not wanting them to break whilst in the springs. Her vision immediately became blurred as she stepped out into the springs, but she was more than used to it by now. They had gotten significantly worse over the last six years, down to 20/50 at the last check up, but it was bearable.

It was a beautiful day, just the perfect time to be in the soothing warm waters, the sun reflecting directly into them, bringing them to a high temperature. As long as no one interfered her for at least half an hour, she’d be content. Carefully testing the grip of the ground with her feet, she slowly approached the pool in her own time tested method. Going to step in, she caught a glance of something that threatened her sanctity, and, through blurred eyes, peered to make out what it was.

“That’s weird,” she muttered to herself, remembering there were no other clothes in the changing room. A brief flicker of anger passed over her face, as the idea of Gen sneaking in to cop a look. She stopped it quickly. He couldn’t have beaten her home.

“Oi, Futabatei. That better not be you down there,” she shouted, waiting for the figure to move. It did not. She considered going back for her glasses, to confirm whether it was the landlord or not, even though she had already placed him under strict instructions not to use the Hot Springs at is leisure (as they were for guests first). Seconds before she did so, the answer was given.

“Puhh…” a rather embarrassing, grunting noise came from the unconscious body in the pool. The noise itself told her nothing, but it caused her to spin back round to look as she saw the unidentified human readjust its sleeping position. Not allowing her eyes the chance to properly register the clothes strewn all over the outside of the building, the girl calmed down, realizing that only one person would be lazy enough to fall asleep in the hot springs.

“Oh it’s just you, Fujiko,” she said walking over, not really expecting an answer from her sleeping friend. With towel in hand she sat down next to her probably inebriated companion, placing the cloth over the rock to keep her back from being scratched. Looking towards her friend, the girl’s face was still blurred and, to be honest, it was hard to tell if she was awake or not. Fujiko’s eyes were heavily squinted and always seemed closed, but from her light breathing it seemed the girl had been out for some time.

As much as she hated to admit it, Fujiko was Otsune’s best friend. The two had known each other since the Doll festival five years ago, and though it was by extreme luck the two found themselves at the same dormitory at the start of senior high, it had been Fujiko’s extreme persistence at being annoying and constantly drunk that caused the two to stay together.

The sun reminded her of its presence, and she found herself cupping her hand over her eyes to appreciate the beauty of the summer’s day. It would be autumn soon and, although they would still use the springs, it wouldn’t be this peacefully mellow. It was definitely a time to appreciate things. Especially after all that had gone on, a little rest would be sought out by anyone in her position.

Grandma Futabatei had died, leaving the entire estate to some offshoot grandnephew. At only sixteen years old, the boy’s line of sight fell half a foot any time a girl was in the room, resulting in the hotel’s alienation of everyone in the village after he made a scene in the town center.

He was being, by definition, a natural jerk, catching a glance whenever he could and finding inappropriate excuses grab their shoulders or hold their hands. It only took a few of the old gossip ladies to turn the whole situation around from quiet, studious girls into some apparent whore den. Bad enough the rumours started. What was worse was that everyone had believed it, and no matter how much she went over it in her head, Otsune just couldn’t understand how it had been accepted so fast. She had actually punched him that first time he did it, and in public. Everyone had seen it. It wasn’t until Tina got attacked that she even realized that people were thinking such things, and it was all that guy’s fault.

But that’s what happened in a village like Heavenly Springs where the key demographics were retired elderly couples and young students aiming between middle school and University. With no middle ground (save perhaps herself, Fujiko and the guy who ran the church) in the age brackets, divisions was bound to occur in the most stupid unjustified xcuses imaginable.

And it didn’t matter how just a few months ago it was old Granma Futabatei’s sweet little dormitory for well behaved girls in the middle of their studies, now it was a veritable whore den full of cigarettes and drugs and possibly even boys.

Village folk could be so stupid.

“He could at least try to be, I don’t know, nice about it. Not trying to hide it like a guilty little pervert.” Fujiko replied by tossing and turning a little, showing her bare, if not still highly blurry, chest to her friend. “Though I suppose it is what they do at that age, the whole breast staring thing.” She looked down down to observe her own features and could completely understand the appeal. “Although still not as big as yours, ey Fujiko?”

“I would say mine are a bit smaller,” claimed the voice next to her, one deeper than what she would expect from her squeaky female friend. “Though this is more likely because I only have defined pectoral muscles, whilst yours are large bags of fat”.

Otsune squealed in horror. Her ‘friend’, who was clearly no longer asleep, was looking at her with half open eyes. All of a sudden feeling very exposed, she watched as the person in front of her sat up, moving to stand over her, their chest looking very flat and muscular than previously as her vision chose to switch back to agonizingly painful clarity. “Could you save my place? I’m going to get some juice.”

Her heart slammed into her chest. This was not Fujiko.

“Actually,” the voice continued. “I think I’ll just fall back asleep.” He did so, collapsing into the rock beneath him almost immediately.

This was a man.

“This story starts like all other stories about good and evil. Good fights evil. Evil fights good. Darkness absorbs light. Light casts away darkness. Symbols dramatically affect other symbols in very dramatic ways. Then, in the middle of all this, we have actual humans. Fragile water containers sloshing from one side of the planet to the other, with no real care for good or evil save to not be a complete jerk ass and yet still get a good piece of the pie. It had been this way since he had first shown up. Even before then, when He had first come about.

“And everyday the sun would rise with its light and the people whom the light shined for were all happy and stuff. They would bounce around singing their songs, dancing through their fields, having their banquets and declaring their bloody wars on each other. This was of course as it should be and everyone was all for it apart from the old folk, who couldn’t bounce around so much, or sing through dry throats, dance on bad backs, eat as much as they used to, or understand the need to adapt to a defensive strategy when being attacked by a garrison of 40 horses, 80 spear men, 100 archers and 200 swordsmen, all armed to the teeth in the latest of Roman weaponry.

“So as the days went on the people continued to be joyous and happy and thinking ‘why not?’ and just doing it right there in the field. Afternoons would come about and then the evenings, and still there were good reasons to dance and bounce and pillage with all those around them in awesome ignorant happiness.

“It was only when the darkness of the night came their happiness would be cut abrupt.

“The night was when the Onikage would come to them.

“That was when the dancing and the eating and most of the sex stopped, and everyone rushed inside their houses making sure each and every light was snuffed out, doing their best to hide themselves in the absence of both light and shadow. There, in the dark, they would all huddled around each other with their eyes closed, tight as could be. Mirrors would be covered with the oldest, dirtiest rags they could find. Even their fingernails they would hide within their fists to prevent any simple refraction of the light. It was there, in the dark, they would wait for it to pass, holding their children tight, fearing the presence of the Onikage. For it was a terrible thing for the Onikage to approach you. Even more so for the children. After all, they were the ones who the Onikage came for.

“Now no one knew why the Onikage wanted the little ones, or why it took them away. But it did, any time it could, any time just enough light existed to create a shadow in the darkness. It wasn’t just children though. Sometimes it took older teenagers, even a few young adults. The eldest that it took was twenty-three, but he was never that grown up in the first place.

“No one knew what it did with the children, though the evidence presented itself soon enough. That terrible scream heard throughout the village, the blind dash in the darkness and a child gone again for three nights.

“When the child finally did return, it would be a confusing sight. He or she would be covered head to toe in a mix of different coloured face paints and a funny clown wig. They would also look like they had gained a few pounds, mainly in the stomach area, like someone had been feeding them sweets non-stop those past three days. Some, though not all, would even be found wearing shoes that were three sizes too big for them.

“But all would be dead. Not a single one able to tell of the wonderful time they had with the Onikage, only their fixed grins able to spin the tale.

“Now, no one knew what was really happening at first. Hell, the entire situation was boggling. I mean, clown wigs didn’t even exist back then. Even so, it encouraged the legend to always keep all lights off at night, since the creature that was doing it was said to be a shadow demon – that was where the name came from, by the by. Because it was a shadow demon, it needed just a little light to reflect a shadow. Just an absence of darkness, a little place to call its own, and then it could come out and snatch all the children it could.

“This would go on forever, but as with all demons, especially those one never actually sees, the village folk would rationalize its existence away with their own problems. Bandits, runaways, that drunk who always had stories around him attacking someone but no one could never say that they themselves had been attacked. And in recent centuries: communism, drug peddling and angst suicides. Whatever was available to blame really.

“It doesn’t take long for a demon to be thrown into myth and even worse, obscurity, but when it happens, there are very few who are able to stop it, and the demon is able to continue on for eternity. As is the case of the Onikage, who has now been at murder for two thousand years to this very night.”

Futabatei Tenma fell silent, bringing her water bottle to her pursed lips. She had already forgotten what question had prompted the story.

“…And how much of that is actually true?” said Jez from ahead of her, keeping an eye out down towards the hill, the moonlight reflecting in the paddy fields. Despite his bulk, the young man was a step too far away from the fire to feel its effects and was shivering through his anorak.

“Hhhmmm, probably none of it,” she replied, leaning back and resting the matchbox on the top of her forehead. “There were the bits the elders told me that are kind of believable, but then there’s the contradiction that there’s no legends about keeping lights turned off at night. And then you have to take into account I made a significant portion of the whole story up as I went along. So I’m guessing… the last third bit? That was kind of true.”

Lighting another match against the coarse edge of her knuckles, she stared at the spark combusting on top of the stick, watching it as it flickered from blue to orange before slowly started to eat away at the wood. She silently asked it if it could burn away her boredom as a small favour for bringing it to life. She tossed it to the roaring embers when it refused.

“Now, my love…” he said, his voice a mumble in the wind as he continued to canvass the darkness.  “You know better than that. The elders have always shown themselves right before,”

“Shut up, yer dick,” she replied, watching the flames as the heat bounced off her face, keeping her yellow painted cheeks uncomfortably warm. “I know how this goes already. I say the elders are wrong. I go out to prove them wrong. I come back the next morning with broken arm and a dead demon. Rinse and repeat; different limb each time.”

“Well,” he muttered, coughing to himself in a failed ploy to hide his discomfort. “As long as you understand, then we can stay prepared.” He began to vigorously scratch the back of his head, tracing the line of short hair above where his backbone resided.

“For what?” she snapped, keeping a sharp edge to her voice, angry more out of boredom than anything else. “Just because the demon may or may not probably exist doesn’t mean it’s gonna come tonight. Just because we’re ‘children’ and we have a fire doesn’t increase the probability of a demon appearing. We’ve been sitting here for hours, and nothing has shown up. Why are you even here anyway? You’re rubbish company unless you’re naked.”

Counterfeit anger really, but for good reasons. Her favourite show was on tonight, and she had to tape it on the half broken video recorder.

“B-because I am the youngest in the clan that can take care of himself,” Jez said timidly, trying to keep his resolve. The wind picked up, pushing the flame in his direction. He didn’t look young. He was around six and a half feet tall with sexy, muscular arms that would have glinted off the fires if he wasn’t wearing that dorky coat, yet he was only a month younger than she was. “Plus… w-we are married and all,” he said, sounding like he had proposed a joint suicide completely out of the blue. “Aren’t we supposed to watch over each other like this?” There was an uncertain apprehension in his voice this time. He honestly wanted an answer- but more importantly, she wanted to piss him off.

“Pfft, stupid clan and their stupid arranged marriages,” she mumbled, leaning back and trying her best to ignore the crickets, playing with the yang amulet around her neck. “Just because we started sleeping together didn’t mean they had to do this to us. It’s like reading a book y’know? Once you get told you have to read it for your final exam, you don’t want to touch it.” She grinned as he used a sudden coughing fit as an excuse to look the other way, becoming suddenly fascinated in the endless layer of black blanketed above them. The flames flickered a little too long and she braced herself. She must have been quite the distraction. He hadn’t noticed it at all.

“Listen, Tenma, I…”

“Shut up and be get ready,” she said calmly, flipping her legs forward, the momentum allowing her to stand up. “We can come back to your stupid angst half hour special after demons have been beaten up.”

“Demons? What? Where?” he said, now fully alert, his body instantly moving into a fighting stance, his calm nervousness leaving as the adrenaline flooded his body, ready for action. Tenma took her time to stretch the kinks out her back, wipe the grass off and yawn as he looked around. Always far too serious.

“Behind you.” she called out with a yawn to back it up, seeing him turn to face the nothing in front of him and gawking when he finally caught a glimpse of it. It must have looked kind of impressive, to eyes that sucked so bad that they didn’t even have magic installed into them as a mystical birthright- a shadow dancing in the darkness. He reached for a log off the fire, scorching his protected hands, to confirm that the demon was really there.

Even with his eyes, which were sharper than the hawk’s in boring normal human terms, he would only just be able to make it out. It was part of the ground, which seemed obvious now, seeing that it was a shadow. The only thing that made it different from a regular shadow was the way it was shifting, more like a plague snake in the desert sands than an absence of light, yet still confined to the light of the flame, dancing around in its changing margins.

“Want sssssome candy?” it asked with a ghoulish, high pitched hiss. The two lovers watched as three caramel fudges rose out of the ground and fired at them. Tenma caught all three, her hands moving in a blur that surprised even her. Opening her hand to look at the sweets it quickly dawned on her what had just happened.

“Hey, don’t do that!” she shouted at him angrily.

“Er…sorry, but I was holding the torch. I couldn’t catch them myself.” She threw them at him harshly, holding back a laugh as the third one stuck to his forehead and stayed there.

“If I want you to take control of my body, I’ll order it, understand?” she shouted though clenched teeth, bringing the commanding tone to her voice. “Now, keep the torch focused.”

“You’re not like the other kiddies, aren’t you not?” the shadow hissed again, flowing in a circle around the girl, as she closed her eyes and concentrated. “You were waiting for me. You’re more mature. I. Don’t. Like. That.”

“Zip it, freak,” she mumbled, bringing her hands together and beginning the prayer to a god only she could worship. Her breath slowed down, mentally shutting out the cold that had rushed in with the demon’s presence before reaching deep inside.

This was the bit to be annoyed by. It took time. She carried on her silent meditation and hoped that her movements would amuse it long enough for her to finish, the emerald crystals already starting to tear through her skin, droplets breaking out and growing down into the land below. She felt the twinge of pain that came with her eyes losing their natural green to the power, the life energy draining out of her.

“You kids should be more innocent. More playful. You don’t fight. That’s not right. You shouldn’t play in bed with others. That’s what adults do.” It continued, its voice rasping with whatever words it could, sounding like a helpful suggestion somehow. “Why not come play with me. And my friends. Just forever. Just until you can’t go on no more.”

“Friends?” Jez mumbled. She sensed two creatures pulling themselves from the shadow that was the demon. “Tenma. It’s brought company.”

“Then handle it,” she commanded, her voice sounding oddly distant. It was so easy for her to hate this bit, the loss of control, the choice to sap her own will. The ritual of Kotodama remained insane no matter how many times she did it.

Jez cursed under his breath. She made a mental note to tease him about it all night later. As he stepped towards the enemy, she could just about make out the man slamming the burning log into the ground before walking up to meet the newcomers.

“Greynock and Draynor,” he announced. “The elders will be pleased that we took care of you tonight.” She knew the names instantly. Greynock and Draynor were two of the most mindless, snarling demons one could ever hope to meet, and two of the most famous in her clan’s recent history. It was their mindless nature that must have made it child’s play for the Onikage to control them. Draynor, once but a mix of rusted iron and brand new, shiny steel, now lived with a large eye that filled its shifting body. The demon had no head, merely a hole on the top of its body that looked like you could insert a neck if you had the right size fittings. And its huge, muscular forearms looked like they could destroy buildings by being near them. Only its tiny legs that looked like they should have snapped long ago made it struggle to approach her.

Greynock didn’t have this problem, the velvet rope with pink and purple scales crossing each other a thousand times over darted straight towards her the instant it left the vortex of shadow, intending to pierce her with its arrow-like head. There was no need to even flinch though. An inch in front of her, the serpent rope was yanked back, snarling at her stomach as it failed to reach her smooth skin, jaws snapping as it spat acid at her. Jez had caught it on its way out, now holding it like he was in a tug o’ war. With no hesitation, he slammed his large fist into the nearest part of it, bringing it to the ground, before bringing it back around and whipping it into the Draynor, allowing the two to tie each other up.

She grunted slightly. She didn’t notice why.

Draynor looked to its partner, seemingly annoyed that it would be playing around at a time like this, and flexed its grossly misshapen muscles, causing the other demon to shatter onto the grass in a neon sparkle. Draynor looked around in horror of what it had done to its ally, howling out in fury from a mouth that did not exist.

Not wanting to blame itself, it looked around for the nearest possible cause and charged towards Jez, its tiny feet slowly getting the job done that its arms could do in a flash. Jez was bracing himself, unsure of whether to retreat or not, his own strength being nothing compared to the demon’s. She counted slowly to three.

Then, she stopped everything.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Tenma said, allowing herself to be cocky, the green emerald now encasing both her hands, shards coming out in all directions as they continued to grow out of her. Draynor looked to her with its one big eye, doing its best to turn around, to show its paralyzed protests through mindless violence, failing when it found its body refusing to move, freezing up, the emerald shards now embedding in its legs. “And just in time too,” she stated, looking underneath her. The Onikage was trapped, its formless mass halfway through absorbing her into the ground before it had been forced to stop, the emeralds embedded within it being quite insistent.

“Excellent work, my dear. Superbly…”

“Sealing demons. Continue to be quiet,” she called out, silencing him. Chanting a small incantation to herself, the words of which were so old and lost in time that not even the elders really knew what they were, her mind cursed those that made her do this every night. She tried to put it aside. The chant sealed demons. That’s all that should matter to her at this point.

Beginning with the two summoned demons, she started pest control. These types were easy to seal. She had done it a thousand times before. It was simple logic, no matter how dumb it was. They were the type of demon that brought themselves into this world through curses on certain objects, and slowly evolved around said object, warping the original forms until there was nothing but a grotesque replacement living in its place. Pulling her hands apart, she concentrated one on each demon. Both monsters started to sizzle away, screaming in ungodly agony as they bubbled and hissed their ways into the crystals that surrounded them. Quickly they soon became nothing but a corrupted form of what they once were. The gauntlet of an old, angry yet strong knight, now transformed with chaotic-looking spikes glistening on the bracer, and a hook that, she figured, once connected a swing to a tree, now a sharpened arrowhead connected to a sturdy, thin yet velvety rope that wasn’t very shatter resistant.

How such mundane items could create such monsters didn’t have time to bother her, and she turned her attention to the one underneath her. This one was nothing special either really. Just a moronic demon that hunted children for dumb, personal reasons. The idea of a demon having psychological issues like this made her laugh, and she pulled its entire form out of the ground without mercy, making the demon feel like it was being torn in two, its existence as much a part of the ground as the darkness and the light. It screamed immaturely in agony, like a child having its precious blanket taken away.

Sighing in annoyance, she prepped herself. The bit she hated most was coming now. The Onikage wasn’t bound to a material possession like the others and so was admittedly a bit more powerful. She’d have no choice but to store it in herself for the time being. It wasn’t the first time, but each time she felt one of these things touch her soul, she wished it were the last. She groaned as it flooded into her like water, pouring into the glass that held her soul, knocking it over and refusing to clean up the mess, staining the ground and revealing all within her to those who cared to look.

She hoped Jez wouldn’t notice. It was her own fault for not telling him sooner, but she still wanted to tell him on her own grounds.

Then it was over, the demon froze within her soul and she let herself collapse. Just for a second though, her foot stopping her descent even before she was halfway down. She couldn’t show too much weakness.

Bleeding from the Draynor, she noticed her hands also had minor cuts on them, but that was expected.

“It got you? But I thought I…” Jez said, full of his usual worry.

“It had an astral form, it looks like,” she grunted, standing back up to her full height, which was about two feet less than Jez. She could see his awe as she ignored the pain. This was nothing. Her bloodline was the strongest in the clan and showing pain, no matter how much she wanted to tell him, was practically forbidden. The man quickly ran to pick up the gauntlet and whip, before running back to her, a large goofy grin on his face that he only allowed during the times he forgot he was supposed to be the serious one.

“Well, regardless,” he said, looking like he wanted to bow like the servant boy he once was. “May I congratulation on another sealing well done. I…” As he reached her, he stopped dead.

“No. No, you may not,” she said jokingly, holding her stomach from the spiritual blow she had received. “I just want to lie down and stare at dreamy rock singers for the next two hours. But before that, I want…” She stopped, now realizing he was staring at her with that more than usual seriousness look.

“What?”

“You’re pregnant?!” he exclaimed, sounding like he wasn’t entirely sure if he was asking a question or speaking a fact. Her eyes must have bugged wide open. He looked bigger for a second.

“Ah crap,” she blurted out, turning around to walk away, not wanting to deal with such a minor thing, tonight of all nights.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, chasing after her. She couldn’t tell his reaction, but it was probably the usual, a mix of being not sure if he should be happy, or getting ready to accept her decision to abort it.

“Because dreamy rock stars are on TV tonight,” she replied, keeping the cockiness going. “I figured it could wait until the morning.”

“Wait until…” he began. “Do you know what will happen if you seal a demon when you’re pregnant, even if it’s only been a few days? Not only will it dilute the bloodline, but…”

“I know what it does, Jez,” she retorted, wishing he would shut up and go away. How dare he see her like this? A momentary slip just because she didn’t get a chance to tell him earlier, big arms wrapping around her and bringing her the warmth only he could? She should remove his eyes for even daring to see the tears fall down her own, showing the side of her she had wanted to show for all these years? He just stared at her, both wanting to help and numb with shock. No one had seen her cry before. She was Tenma! Of course she wouldn’t cry, but now… Something took the legs out from under her.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she heard him say, trying to reassure her as he grabbed her limp body and held it close to him, clearly trying to reassure himself as well. He was shivering like he was in the arctic and he was a retarded man holding a retarded woman because they had been retarded together for six hours non-stop a few retarded nights ago.

“I can’t be like this, Jez,” she stated. “Not now, my ceremony starts tomorrow. We have to…” He kissed her lightly on the top of her head, feeling her voice tremble into nothingness.

“I know,” he sighed. “We have to get going.” He went to pull away, thinking it was what she wanted. Instead, she grabbed him and pulled him in harder, never wanting to let go. She held him tighter than he could ever hold her. She didn’t want to admit it- given the circumstances, but it felt nice to be the one being held like this for a change, with him comforting her instead of the usual way round. She felt him bring his hand to her stomach, and held hers over his.

“Stupid kid.”