Yokai Calling

14. Hidekazu

9

Hidekazu

Under Aihi’s orders, Tsukiko entered a state of emergency. Rather than only alerting potential victims as Barame had, the city issued warnings to everyone; safety had to become a community effort. Aihi re-coordinated the Benri clan troops with the Tsukiko Guard to increase patrols and overall defences. Meanwhile, Masanori and Hidekazu attempted to help but were instead regulated to hauling supplies for builders to reinforce the city’s watchtowers. All twenty-five of them.

After two long days of running around, Hidekazu dug the back of his head into the tamashii tree’s trunk. Bundles of pink and white blossoms covered the tree’s rope-like limbs, swaying with the flow of ki in the air, the wind and sea coalescing into a silent tune only the tree could appreciate.

His notebook and bushido textbooks lay discarded in the grass. Their presence perturbed him; he needed to study, but he thought of the missing women every time he looked at the covers. Had it been the right decision to turn down Meki Barame’s offer to attend Tsukiko Academy?

It had to be. Unless the investigation continued for months, the academy wouldn’t prepare him to face that kan’thir again. A few days wouldn’t make a difference.

With nothing to do but read and wait, doubt was ever-present in Hidekazu’s mind. What if finding the kan’thir did take months longer? Though a brief message to his family through a mirror in Aihi’s royal travel house that morning earned him and Masanori more time in Tsukiko, it wouldn’t be long before their father attempted to drag them home.

Worse, staying or leaving didn’t change how his father expected Hidekazu to prepare for and pass the Majyutsushi Exams, the notorious test to determine who was worthy of bushido. In Genshu Dano’s words, Hidekazu was to take the exam and claim the prestigious title of bushi.

Or die trying.

The test was dangerous, his father dramatic, but the point stood that falling behind because of the dire situation in Tsukiko wasn’t an excuse.

Passing the test was the only way for him to follow through with the proposed marriage to Aihi—the only way for him to become worthy of the shōgun title that he would obtain when she became empress. To take the position as shōgun, candidates were required to have experience as a bushi or an honourary equivalent. Anything less was an insult to the role as a military leader.

Masanori and Aihi slid through the grass, their bamboo practice swords clattering as they went through their drill routine. Having trained with all sorts of weapons throughout her life, Aihi’s movements were fluid and quick: the child of wind and water, but sturdy as stone. Masanori bumbled about, more rigid and robust in his strikes, but strength without precision knocked him off course.

A delicate flick of Aihi’s sent Masanori’s bokken sword spinning into the grass. “See? It is for the best that you do not use your mother’s katana. You lack the grip needed to keep your practice sword, let alone Jouten.”

“The best warriors lose their blades all the time! It’s those who overcome insurmountable odds—” There was a thump as Masanori’s back hit the ground. “Ow, come on. Even with a kan’thir on the loose, you won’t let me spar with steel?”

“There are still years of practice ahead of you. Unless there is no other choice, you had best use your other talents as supplements.”

Masanori crossed his arms. “Ki-engineering and bushido are incompatible. It has never been done before.”

“So? Why can you not be the first? Use that innovative mind of yours, dear Masa. Do not let it go to waste because of your spite for the situation you find yourself in.”

The pair argued back and forth about the logistics of using the two at once, oblivious as ever to Hidekazu’s attempts to study. Their constant banter cracked the barrier of his concentration, and he glanced up to witness a moment where Masanori gazed at Aihi as though she were the moon, sun, and stars personified. At times, Hidekazu had noticed Torra staring at her in a similar fashion.

The ones who wanted Aihi, barred from her through position.

And then Hidekazu, who did not want her at all, pushed toward her because they shared a birth during Dragon’s month—Shirashi’s most sacred time of year—and their power to control all four elements. A near-perfect match, if the priestesses were to be believed.

Hidekazu didn’t want to marry Aihi or anyone. Unlike Masanori, who you would be hard-pressed to find outside the presence of an attractive young lady until this last year, Hidekazu found no appeal in those types of relationships.

If only Hidekazu’s parents made their decision years ago and gave him more time to acclimate. Now he had less than three years to overwrite that label of ‘sister’ he held so dear. He wasn’t sure that was possible.

Despite his promise not to breathe a word, he couldn’t keep the betrothal from Aihi, at least, for much longer. This marriage affected her future, too, and it was wrong that the choice was being taken from her.

Hidekazu gathered his books into a neat stack, taking Combative Ki Techniques: Volume I and flipping to a dog-eared page near the centre. To stay on track with his studies, he needed to finish this next chapter on kigou variations and begin practical application. There was still time to receive Aihi’s feedback on his form before returning to the city later that evening.

Several into his readings, his mind wandered back to more prominent worries: the significance of his new training and the position his parents desired for him.

The war with Kairo in the south had ended the night all warlocks died without explanation or cause, taking the Warlock Empire with them. Half a century had passed since, and the tensions between Kairo and Seiryuu were alive and well. Wyvern God sympathies were on the rise in the Tajidain Sultanate in the east, and so thus did Seiryuu face another potential enemy.

The Reunification Wars, where Hidekazu’s parents had fought to re-establish order in Seiryuu, had ended only twenty years ago. Rifts already showed between fragile clan relations. Worse, the lacking communication between the noble families victimized by the kan’thir sorcerer made all of them vulnerable to worse outside threats. So filled with distrust for one another, they preferred to suffer in silence rather than cooperate.

Without more information about the attacks, there was so little Aihi, Masanori, and Hidekazu could do. They needed Captain Todoroki’s files to make the best of their drive to find connections between disappearances and cross-reference witnesses from various families.

Aihi knocked Masanori over again, reset her position, and settled into another offensive stance. Her sword pointed at him as he rose to his feet, but her gaze lingered on Hidekazu, meeting his own restless eyes.

Did she ever worry about her responsibilities as princess and heir? How would she protect the people of Tsukiko from the kan’thir who terrorized them? Or, beneath the tamashii tree, did she manage to wash away the weight of her duties?

Hidekazu ripped his eyes from hers. Maybe she didn’t know of their shared responsibility yet, but she wasn’t oblivious to her future. When he mustered the willpower to tell her what he knew, she would understand.

Masanori tried to imitate Aihi, but his grip was too firm, and his tight wrists caused the bokken to appear awkward in his hands. Five seconds passed before she attacked. Her first swing aimed for his hip, and he deflected the blow. When the wooden swords clashed, Aihi’s slid along the length of the blade and, in a broad sweep, smacked him in the belly.

“You will learn nothing if you sleep on your feet.” Aihi stepped back, waiting for Masanori to adjust before launching another assault. Each of her strikes was direct this time, and he fell into a rhythm as he blocked her hits one after another.

“No slouching. This is not the Jyutsu Laboratory; you must be straight and alert. Keep your stance further apart, too, for stability and power.”

“Like this?” Masanori said, followed by a smacking sound. “Ow! Okay! Not like that.”

For a while, they went back and forth. The sound of clashing wood droned in symphony with the tamashii tree’s branches, and as Masanori listened to her suggestions, the smack of wood on flesh came far less often.

Hidekazu fell into his usual study routine. He recorded each new kigou from the textbook into his notes alongside the lists of obscure symbols he’d discovered over the years. At the top, underlined with crimson ink, was one of his favourites: kengen. The combination of kigou meant something like ‘the power beyond what he could use,’ a concept he found intriguing because it implied the potential for expanding the usage of ki.

As of yet, he hadn’t found a use for the symbols, but as he expanded his capabilities, he hoped the combination would come in handy one day.

Below the cliffs, the golden water of the Kin Sea splashed the rocks. Two seaweed-coloured, scaly yōkai raced to the beach, a pair of gamishiro with eyes set on two cucumbers in the sand. Aihi must have tossed the offering to the creatures before Hidekazu and Masanori arrived.

The gamishiro dug into their snacks with vicious claws and beaks before jumping back into the water. The same two yōkai had lived in the cove as long as Hidekazu could remember, and whenever Aihi brought cucumbers, they appeared. What if they utilized similar logic to corner the kan’thir?

“A trap,” Hidekazu said.

“Excuse me?” Aihi blocked one of Masanori’s strikes and knocked him over.

“The kan’thir targets exclusively noblewomen who are also majyu. This particularity offers an opportunity to corner him under a controlled situation.”

“We would require a volunteer to lure our mark from the shadows. We do not understand the kan’thir’s power well enough, nor have the authorities discovered a way to jam his teleportation. Until then, such a plan would only result in another victim. It’s too dangerous.”

Masanori climbed to his feet and rubbed his chin, where a bit of stubble had started growing. “But what if we had the bushi on our side? Why can’t any come to help?”

Aihi shifted in place. “An issue with Sānlóngguó. I must not speak of it.”

Diplomacy. Sānlóngguó was a kingdom to the west, across the Kaminari Sea, but they’d always been an ally of Seiryuu. In fact, before learning of his potential betrothal, Hidekazu had expected Aihi would marry one of the many princes of Sānlóngguó.

Whatever the conflict, it would trump a retaliation against the kan’thir in Tsukiko unless the situation threatened the nation rather than a single city. Hidekazu eliminated the possibility of immediate backup until they proved otherwise, and that wouldn’t happen until the captain of the Tsukiko Guard, Todoroki Akihiro, showed up.

Hidekazu retrieved his minimized staff from his kimono, silver ki sparkling around the sapphire head as the weapon extended to full length. Brown, inky energy followed his staff as he painted tsuchi, the kigou for earth: a short horizontal line, struck through with a vertical line, finished with a longer horizontal stroke across the bottom.

The ground beneath his feet released a breath, subtle vibrations rising from the earth. He created the new symbols he learned from his textbook, and the soil shifted, stone slivers rising and shaping into needle-like daggers.

What if the kan’thir did attack again, and they still couldn’t stop him? Hidekazu’s arms shook, ruining the last in the sequence. Each carefully drawn kigou dissipated, and the rocks around him returned to the ground. Just like when they fought the kan’thir, his nerves got to him.

All of Hidekazu’s anxieties were in his head: what he needed was better focus. Shields were easy. Attacks could be easy, too.

Taking another deep breath, he redrew tsuchi. Even after memorizing the new kigou, Hidekazu’s instincts were to direct the rocks to rise as a barrier. He re-drew the next three kigou, hesitating before beginning the final symbol. A flash of purple blared behind his half-closed eyelids. He winced, and the stones faltered and bumped the tamashii tree’s branches.

“Novices are taught to use chikara next,” Aihi said.

Hidekazu jerked away, startled by her sudden proximity, but didn’t lose control of the earth. When did she get so close? A moment ago, she and Masanori had been joking around in the grass.

Shifting stones moved closer to Hidekazu. “The kigou for strength,” he said once he recovered his bearings.

“But you cannot be a novice any longer, dear Hide. Try this instead.”

Her words banged a gong inside him, and he remained in place, insides shaking, until Aihi raised her wooden sword. She sliced the air, leaving grey strokes to form two new symbols.

He leaned in. He’d seen her use those before.

“When manipulating ki for combat, you must be direct and assertive. Hesitation is your enemy,” she said.

Lifting the staff, Hidekazu replicated Aihi and called to the pebbles and dirt. Warmth settled in his bones, spreading like the roots of a tree and deeper into the earth. He nudged the elements around him, extending a gentle request for their aid.

Thermal energy surged from within him, spreading into the surrounding atmosphere. His arms tingled as needles carved from stone rose and flowed around him in slow circles.

“It worked.” After a lifetime of conjuring shields and protective spells, attacks always seemed so unnatural to him. But following Aihi’s instructions, controlling earthen ki with the intent of attacking never felt so easy.

“Now, gaze beyond the tree’s domain. Send the stones flying, but ask the earth not to spoil the branches or flowers as they pass through.”

A bead of sweat dripped down the curve of Hidekazu’s neck. The floating needles trembled with his hesitation.

“Hidekazu, Aihi,” Masanori shouted, running toward them.

His urgent tone stole the concentration Hidekazu poured into the spell. The stones twirled about before returning to the ground.

“What’s the matter—” Aihi started, but she stared past Masanori, toward Tsukiko.

Smoke billowed from the city, flames licking rooftops. A wave of cold energy shot toward the tree, and the sinister rigidness made Hidekazu recoil. Someone used corrupted ki to set the fire. The kan’thir’s last attack had been silent, almost leaving without a trace. The fire had to be something else. But this ki...

Aihi hurried toward the horses. “We must help!”

Her declaration made Hidekazu stiffen. Should they, three teenagers, rush into the city? The bushido code taught them to value justice and courage, but unlike Aihi, Hidekazu and Masanori weren’t warriors; they weren’t ready to fight.

She mounted her horse and galloped toward Tsukiko.

“Wait, are you sure this is a good idea—” Masanori said, but she was long gone.

Hidekazu and Masanori followed her toward the smoke and flames.