"Puuuuuh."
A thick plume of white smoke drifted into the cool mountain air. Bushido sat perched on a weathered stone, his posture deceptively relaxed as he drew from his Kiseru. The pipe was a work of art, deep purple wood with ornate flower paintings, its silver tip glowing a fierce, ember-red with every breath he took.
The smoke didn't just drift; it curled and twisted, momentarily taking the shapes of prowling tigers and cute dogs before dissolving into the wind.
"Raijin-sama."
The voice vibrated with a resonance that drew Bushido's attention. He slanted his head just a fraction, pulling the pipe from his lips and glancing back over his shoulder.
"Yasumasa, you brat... I told you to never call me that," Bushido barked, his voice like the grinding of tectonic plates.
"But why, Master? It's the official title you were given by—"
"Don't tell me anything about those Imperial bastards!" Bushido's face flushed a deep, angry crimson as veins began to throb at his temples. "I see I have been far too kind to you lately, seeing as you think you can talk back."
"Pffft. Sekiryū... he really does look like it" Yasumasa chuckled under his breath, watching his master's predictable explosion with a mix of amusement and respect. Bushido's face did look like that of the shade of a ripe pomegranate.
Bushido took another long puff, the smoke working its magic to settle his temper. He exhaled a final cloud and turned his gaze back to the horizon. "So, brat... why did you call me out here?"
"Haaaa..." Yasumasa sighed, the laughter vanishing from his eyes. He looked up at the daytime sky, where the stars were invisible to most, but not to him. "I was checking the stars... and it seems another Deity Gate has been opened."
The stern, hardened look that replaced Yasumasa's smile told the whole story.
"Hmmmm." Bushido's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around the stem of his Kiseru. "So that's why my blood was rushing today. It felt a hum in my marrow."
He stared towards the southern path of the capital, his gaze cutting through leagues of distance.
"Who did they get this time? It's no wonder I feel my blood boiling earlier as if someone was calling for me?"
'Mmmmm. I thought as much... it must have been the call from the blood of Fūjin since those two share a fate.'
Yasumasa Kimono fluttered as he took a seat beside Bushido, uncorking a gourd of plum wine. The sweet, sharp scent of the fruit cut through the smell of earth that always clung to Bushido.
…
Back within the Kekkai, the red mist finally settled, bringing forth the Silhouette. The voice came from a refined state. The jagged, spikey bone armour was gone, replaced by a smooth, grey skin that seemed to swallow the light.
It was tall and slender, standing with a haunting elegance. Two massive Ox horns curled from its forehead, and its fingers were like long, obsidian needles. From its back, two heavy, black-feathered wings sprouted, twitching with a life of their own. Most disturbing was its tail, a thick, muscular snake that coiled around a large, ornate Koto.
"Mmmm... those flames. I know them," the creature hissed, its eyes fixed on the blue flicker at Yorimitsu's fingertips.
"Yo, Taisho... why doesn't it seem like—"
"Yeah, you're right," Yorimitsu cut Gabimaru off, his voice tight. "It doesn't just look like it; he fused with those other two... what's more, it looks like it has other souls compressed inside itself. It will be hard to figure out its Onmyōdō."
"You have a plan, right?" Watanabe asked, his knuckles white as he gripped his katana. "Is that why you're doing that weird stance?"
Yorimitsu was balanced low, his feet shifting in a circular pattern that ground the bone-shards beneath him into powder. "Yeah. But it'll take time. I need you both to hold him off. Just for a moment."
An awkward silence fell over the group. Gabimaru and Watanabe exchanged a glance, facing a Fifth Stage Yokai, with their level of ability was no different from an ant attacking an Elephant.
"Oh, come on!" Yorimitsu barked, a drop of sweat hitting the bone-dust. "I didn't say defeat it. Just don't die until I'm done!"
"Are you finished discussing your strategy?" the creature taunted, its snake-tail plucking a single, discordant note on the Koto. The sound sent a ripple of nausea through the group. "How will you do this? Altogether? Or will you feed yourselves to me one by one?"
"Tch. It's mocking us now," Gabimaru hissed, stepping forward as the red mist swirled around his ankles. He glanced sideways at the swordsman. "By the way... I've never seen you use your Onmyōdō. What powers do you have?"
"Ah... about that. I can't use it for now..." Watanabe's eyes shifted, refusing to meet Gabimaru's gaze.
"What? What kind of useless shit are you?!" Gabimaru barked, his annoyance flaring.
"Who are you calling shit... You shit!"
'It's Yorimitsu's fault anyway he said, I shouldn't use my spirit technique or the curse might activate.' Watanabe thought to himself.
The two began to bicker, a brief, frantic release of nerves, but the sound died instantly as the creature's murderous intent leaked out.
"Tch. That is a thorough monster," Gabimaru spat, digging his heels into the bone shards of the floor.
Watanabe followed suit, raising his katana high into the air. As he drew his breath, the atmosphere around him plummeted in temperature. A layer of frost began to creep across the skulls at his feet, crystallising the blood-mist into ice.
'Mmmm. Just like I thought... this guy is talented,' Yorimitsu mused from his ritual stance. Even without using his Onmyōdō, Watanabe's raw Reiryoku was so potent that it could freeze the environment.
"Oh? It seems you are taking this seriously now," the creature spoke. It reached back with its snake-tail and stilled the Koto, placing one long-fingered hand behind its back and beckoning with the other. "I will not use my technique yet. I wish to fight you properly."
"From Isehara... Gabimaru no Ishe! I will defeat you!" Gabimaru declared. His entire demeanour had shifted; his arrogant self was gone.
Watanabe took a deep, steady breath that came out as a puff of white vapour. "From Tsubonouchi... Watanabe no Tsuna!"
The creature's head tilted, its ox horns catching the dim light of the domain. It giggled a dry, rattling sound.
"Oh, I oblige," it whispered. "From Yamashiro... I am called Harumichi."
'Harumichi...' Yorimitsu's eyes narrowed. 'So it is him.. the Temple master that killed all his students, he should be over two hundred years old now?!'