Shinggggg!
The dull wooden blade sang through the forest air.
A young cedar shuddered, split cleanly along its grain, and fell in two halves with a heavy, dignified thud that echoed between the trunks.
"Huff… huff…"
Yorimitsu lowered the practice sword slowly. Sweat rolled down his temple and darkened the collar of his simple hemp kosode. His breathing was heavy, but steady.
"It took two months…" he murmured to himself. "But my body is finally listening to me."
He looked at his hands, no longer the soft porcelain of a neglected noble child. Fine cords of muscle had begun to form beneath his skin from the secret, relentless labour he performed in this forest every day before dawn.
"Now what remains… is the scale of the White Snake… and the core of a third-rank yōkai. Then I can finally perform the cleansing rite."
He let the blade fall to the mossy ground.
Yorimitsu folded into seiza.
He closed his eyes.
Slowly, he began sealing the pores of his body with deliberate breaths, imagining each one as a tiny gate shutting tight. The spiral mark upon his brow began to stir. It writhed faintly beneath his skin like ink trying to return to a brush.
The half-wrinkled, aged side of his face trembled as the spiral shifted away from his cheek and migrated toward his forehead. A deep blue aura pressed outward from him.
The grass flattened. Leaves rustled violently. Nearby birds burst from the canopy in alarm, and animals retreated into the underbrush with fearful urgency. Dark wisps of stagnant karma began leaking from his skin like smoke escaping a cracked kiln.
The shrivelled shell along his left cheek cracked, peeled, and fell away like dead bark, revealing smooth skin beneath.
"Mhh… the karma that clogged my flesh is finally gone. My body feels light… hahahaha."
He raised two fingers before him.
"Spirits of the wind… lend me your piercing might."
Behind him, the still air began to whistle. Leaves and dust lifted from the forest floor as a tight vortex spiralled into existence.
Yorimitsu stepped forward and vanished, a violent pressure wave tore through the grove.
Several trees shuddered and split as if an invisible blade had passed through them. When the wind settled, Yorimitsu stood alone amid falling leaves and drifting dust.
He exhaled.
"This is enough for now."
He stood and began walking towards the manor, but as he approached the Minamoto estate, his pace slowed.
His gaze was drawn towards A carriage that stood before the gates.
It was not a common noble carriage. It was large, lacquered black, adorned with gold fittings and drawn by enormous black oxen whose horns were capped in polished lacquer. Their long manes trailed near their hooves like silken banners.
Servants rushed about in visible agitation. Some carried trays of river fish and lacquer bowls. Others hurried with basins of water and folded silks toward the guest residence.
Yorimitsu's eyes narrowed.
"What is happening here…?"
His gaze lifted to the symbol on the carriage.
His breath caught.
"Someone from the capital…?"
He paused.
Memories shifted into place.
"…I do remember this. I saw guards like these once from the mountain path. I paid them no mind then… but they were coming here….?"
Yorimitsu turned sharply and hurried toward his room.
He began searching frantically, tossing scrolls, cushions, and folded garments aside.
"Where is it… I know I made it last time…"
His eyes caught a faint corner of yellow beneath a floor plank.
"Yes."
He pulled out the narrow talisman. Yellow parchment, written with careful red ink strokes. It hummed faintly with preserved power.
He pressed it to his forehead.
The paper melted into his skin.
His body followed.
He became translucent.
Then nothing.
No scent. No shadow. No sound.
He walked through his own home like a wandering spirit. He then slipped into the great audience chamber just as the last servant bowed herself out.
His father sat formally across from a court official.
The man wore layered black sokutai robes embroidered with silver and gold thread. A tall eboshi hat crowned his narrow head. His thin moustache split to either side of his lips, giving him the appearance of a rat peering from a burrow.
Yorimitsu activated his divine sense.
And felt cold.
Tch… unlike Father's clouded aura… this one is already pitch black. It's like looking at a demon wearing a man's skin.
Through his spirit-sight, Yorimitsu could see what his father could not.
A long, thin, hairless tail swayed lazily behind the folds of the man's robes.
"Minamoto-san, how have you been?" the official asked smoothly.
"I endure," Yoshitomo replied, picking at a carefully carved fish shaped like a flower. "Though lately my thoughts have become foggy. My illness worsens."
"And the medicine we have been sending you?"
"It is the only thing keeping me sane. After my wife fell ill, we searched everywhere for healers. Without your assistance, I would be helpless."
"Mmm. In that case, I have brought a new version."
The official gestured.
A lacquered black box slid across the tatami by itself and came to rest before Yoshitomo.
"Forgive me for using such arts in your esteemed house."
"No.. no, I understand," he waved his hand.
Yoshitomo lifted the lid, and a dark cloud burst forth and struck him in the face. His body stiffened, his eyes bulged then his pupils vanished, replaced by a deep, sickly yellow.
"Inoe," the official said calmly, dropping all politeness. "Tell me the progress. I expected you to have taken this old cook's body by now."
Crack.
Crack.
Yoshitomo's neck twisted unnaturally to face him.
"Commander…" an unfamiliar voice emerged from his father's mouth. "I am close. I have been crushing his soul, but his will is stronger than expected."
"Tch. No excuses. Do it by year's end if you do not wish for the Master's anger. We need that girl… Hikaru, soon or, all our plans will be ruined."
At the sound of his sister's name, Yorimitsu's composure shattered.
A sliver of bloodlust leaked into the room before he forced himself to suppress it.
"Did you feel that, Inoe?" the official asked, scanning the room.
"Mm… perhaps I am sensitive. But I felt killing intent." He gazed down and poured all the sake from his cup.
"This mission is too important. We cannot let this Divine Body slip away as well."
Silence fell.
Then Inoe spoke again, eyes closing.
"How about we involve the Minakaze?"
Both of them went still, communicating wordlessly.
A slow, cruel smile spread across the official's face.
"Mmm. A wonderful idea. Losing his son would crush what remains of his resistance. Let us do it your way."
The official stood, and in the same motion, his tail lashed out with the speed of lightning toward the very place Yorimitsu stood.
BOOM!