26 Progress

The door slams open, and Nurarihyon staggers inside, his face flushed and his smile silly as he promptly trips and smashes his face into the tatami floor.

"Please stop opening the door like that." I say tiredly, staring at the torn wooden hinges. "This is the eighth door you've broken." Nurarihyon mumbles incoherently, and I sigh. "Honestly, why do I even bother?"

So I take hold of a dango stick, and throw it straight at the old man's head. The stick blurs, its speed comparable to bullets. And yet Nurarihyon easily catches it between his fingers without looking up. "Ah, how rude!" He says, face still planted into the tatami mat. "Didn't your parents teach you to respect the elderly?"

"I did." I say. "That lasted only a month." He clicks his tongue and says nothing else. I sigh.

It's late at night, and I'm sitting in Nurarihyon's personal office, idly reading through another historical record about Shuten Douji. It's been a slow day today. It's exam season, and many students are scrambling about as they try to cram as much as they can. Akeno's doing the same, having practically barred herself in our room back at home to learn.

It's nostalgic, really. Reminds me of the exam season from back when Akeno and I were seventh graders. I can still remember the visceral terror Akeno had when complex algebra was introduced. That was fun.

"Not helping the young lady with her lessons?" Nurarihyon asks, finally pushing himself off the ground as he sits next to me.

"Not this time," I say. "And it's not like we go to the same school. I have no idea if what we learnt is the same."

That's a lie. It's the same. Japanese schools have a general curriculum. There'll be some slight variation here and there, but we're both learning essentially the same thing.

"That's right, your schools are different." Nurarihyon hums. "I keep forgetting that."

I'm still somewhat annoyed by it. Kuoh Middle and Kuoh High are both all-girls schools. Why? No one really knows. That was just how it was in the past, and no one's really bothered changing it since. Thankfully, Kuoh Elementary was a newer establishment and allowed both boys and girls to learn together. I can't imagine how different everything would've been if that wasn't the case.

So now we're in different schools. Akeno's a student of Kuoh Middle, and I am a student of Aramachi Junior. It's only a town away from Kuoh, but it's still annoying. Riding a train to get to my school's nice the first few times, but it quickly became a chore.

Thankfully, teleportation arrays exist.

I smile. "Are you admitting you're old-?" I quickly leap away just in time to see a hole conspicuously appear where I was sitting moments ago. "You do know this is your office you're destroying, right?"

"Bah, you can just regrow it."

My eye twitches. "That's not an excuse."

Nurarihyon laughs for a moment, before his eyes turn to the scroll I'd been reading through. "Shuten Douji, huh?" He smiles for a moment, lost in memory. "That damned buffoon. He could've still been around if not for that duel."

I frown. "You knew him?"

He nods. "Aye. A fine man, he was. Stubborn to a fault. Ferocious too. He led his people well, before that Minamoto took his head." He shakes his head. "A pity, really." He turns to me. "Why? Interested in his weapons or something?"

I shrug. "I was just curious about his story."

Which isn't false, but it isn't true either. That scroll was written by an Oni hundreds of years ago, and I was using it as a catalyst for my eyes. Yasaka had mentioned something interesting a few days ago, and I can't help myself.

The conversation tapers off after that. Nurarihyon's still very much drunk after whatever he did, and bringing up Shuten has only brought the old man deeper into his past memories. I leave soon after.

Before long, I come onto the streets of Kyoto. It's dark out here; the streets lit by sparse night lights and the many alleys shrouded in shadows. But I'm used to it. I've walked these streets many times before. By all rights, Kyoto has become my second home.

…

A lot's changed, and at the same time, not at all.

As promised, Akeno and I began learning under Yasaka and Nurarihyon. Our own training continues without hindrance, but we also make time to learn from them. We alternate between the two leaders week by week.

Not that we have any sort of structure to these lessons. They're pretty haphazard; Yasaka and Nurarihyon teach us whenever they can. If they're busy, then they'll lend some scroll they're keeping or have some trusted member of their faction teach us in their stead.

Inevitably, it doesn't take long before we're known to the Youkai. "Disciples of the Leaders," they call us, reverent and jealous and confused all at once. The two factions have remained separate for hundreds of years, and there's a slew of reasons as to why.

Our 'apprenticeship' under the two leaders; it's the first time in years since the two leaders have cooperated on something. It won't be the last. It can't be the last.

Because, as mean as it sounds, the Youkai can't hold up against the other forces in this world. They're strong, and diverse in abilities, but their lack of unity stifles the many possibilities the Youkai could've achieved.

The unity between the two factions must happen, and the first step to doing that is getting Yasaka and Nurarihyon to actually get along.

Outwardly, they're polite acquaintances to one another. Maybe even sportive rivals. That's all a lie. Their masks may be impeccable, but they're nothing against my eyes. There's distrust between them, born from conflicts both personal and political.

But I'm trying to slowly mend their relationship. It isn't easy; just trying to get the two to agree to meet was hellish on its own, but I've done it. Every Sunday, both of them will teach Akeno and I. It'll be the day when one can share what they've taught to us with the other.

It's been slow, but at least the two can stand in one room and not immediately assume that one is badmouthing the other in their-

I tilt my head, and a knife passes over my shoulder. It digs into the street with a pitched shriek, cracking the concrete slightly.

"Well now," I say, turning to meet my assailant. "That's a little rude, don't you think?"

It's a man with black hair and piercing violet eyes. He wears a tight-fitting black outfit, and over it a jointed plate armor. There's a pair of shortswords hanging from his hip, and a number of knives kept beneath his armor. He looks like a samurai, if less bulky and without the massive helmets they normally wear.

My eyes glow, and information floods my head. Himejima Eichi is his name, and he's-

Oh. Now that's funny.

"Here to avenge your brother?" I ask casually. He flinches, eyes widening as he quickly draws his blades. I smile. "So, how'd you find me?"

"I smell his blood on your hands, fiend." He bites out, lips curled into a snarl as he draws his swords, fire curling around their blades.

I hum. Surprisingly, he isn't lying.

Himejima Eichi is Suou's younger brother. He's always been jealous of Suou, and his brother's death only served as a chance for Eichi to ascend to a higher position. But that didn't happen. He wasn't like Suou; he wasn't as strong or as smart as his older brother.

But he was still tasked with finding Suou's murderer, and so he journeyed across Japan, using his blood connection with Suou to find his murderer. Suou's corpse may be gone, but the remnant of Suou's fate still clings to my hands, creating a thin string Eichi followed, leading him here.

Pity. He should've gone home and asked for backup or something. He would have proved a bigger threat if he did. Was it pride? Or was it the shame of returning to the clan to ask for even more?

Well, it doesn't matter.

Eichi leaps forward, his burning blades aiming for my neck. He's fairly fast, but I'm faster. I weave past him, and before he can react I backhand him and slam my foot into his gut. He cries out in pain, and quickly leaps away before I can do anything else. I don't move to follow.

He growls, the flames on his swords growing by the second. He readies himself for another leap, fire now licking his legs and his speed bolstered,

Only for a blast of white and blue to smash into his gut, right where I'd kicked him earlier. His stomach caves in, and Eichi gasps as he's sent flying back, his shortsword clattering across the streets as the flames on their blades snuff out.

I smile wryly.

It's a technique of mine. Through a mixture of Primal Energy and Senjutsu, my strikes can leave behind a 'mark', and at my call, an invisible strike mirroring that first attack will slam onto my enemy right on where I first struck.

It's not all that substantial on its own, and there's a number of defenses one can put up against it. I mean, even Akeno can use her own Senjutsu to dispel some of the 'marks'. But considering I can do so as many times as I want until I run out of energy, and that it'll be a secret to most of my enemies?

It works quite well, I'd say.

Haven't decided a name for it though. I have several ideas, but none seem to fit quite right.

…

Wait, Eichi's not moving.

"Is he-, is he dead?" I quickly walk over. And I sigh in relief when I see that he's still breathing. "Still, one kick, huh?" I whisper, smiling wryly as I stare at the unconscious man. "Guess that's why the gods didn't bless him."

I stare at the unconscious man for another good minute, before I throw him onto my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Yasaka should still be awake…" I mutter as I pick up the man's fallen swords.

And so, with an unconscious man on my shoulder, I begin walking.