Chapter 67: Mysterious Ailment

[Yachiru POV]

One week has passed since my induction as Shishō's disciple. Every day has been beneficial to my growth. Although the time we've spent on sparring has been negligible, I happen to enjoy our training sessions. The simplicity of our balance and resistance routines always baffles me, though not in a rude sense of the word. 

I'm baffled by the noticeable improvements I've harvested. On numerous occasions, Fu-nee has called me a 'monster'. I don't agree with the sentiment, yet Batsu-nee's silence has led me to believe I am ailed by something abnormal. It is challenging to discern whether their antics are sincere or mischievous. Fortunately, their work suspensions were lifted by Shishō, leading them to moderate their frivolities.

Inklings of their sincerity emerged when the hateful man's subordinate arrived one afternoon. Supposedly, this Sasakibe Chōjirō was dispatched to deliver crucial information about an ongoing investigation. His succinct report drew Batsu-nee's attention. 

The Autumn chill reached an all-time low that night. 

Fu-nee spent the entire evening comforting Batsu-nee. To my knowledge, there was no update on her grandmother's whereabouts. Her hardened eyes did elicit something in my heart.

Since my father's disappearance, it's been difficult to relate to Batsu's plights. Nevertheless, I did my best to alleviate her workload the following day. Such a little gesture had caused her to shed tears. The confessions I heard that day carried true sincerity.

I can still feel her arms wrap around me…

Unexpectedly, I felt exceedingly sensitive and protective that day. 

These symptoms flare up when Fu-nee or Batsu-nee handles unsavory fools. 

Or when Shishō is pestered by hussies…

Fu-nee's vernacular has been influencing me. 

It must be the ailment. Yes, it must be. What else could elicit such funny… irritations?

Working in the teahouse has been quite informative. Customer service seems to come naturally to me. However, it would be false if I claimed that every interaction has been flawless and stressless. While infrequent, I do find myself in uncomfortable situations. Whether it be soliciting men or… thieving cats, I have been respectful while resolving differences. 

Fu-nee and Batsu-nee relish these petty moments in excess. More so when I deal with seedy bitc-… working women. 

I feel oddly infuriated when I ponder on it.

It must be the ailment. 

Besides the awkwardness of attending to people's needs, I've come to learn about sycophancy. The number of flattering customers has been shocking. Neither Fu-nee nor Batsu-nee pays it any mind, yet still, it astounds me. Each day, new and old beggars plead for Shishō's assistance. Seldom times, I receive requests for loans or violent intervention. The latter aroused my interest, yet when I asked Fu-nee about it, she refused to entertain the request. 

That day, her violet eye glinted with an ominous severity, imparting wisdom of profound value.

"If souls vanished tomorrow, will the world stop fighting? No. Even if blood-sucking humans die out in the World of the Living, life will continue to fight. Insects will swarm over a rotten, shit-stained chunk of fruit. Ambitious snakes will rob eagles of their eggs. Fish will devour their school if they starve enough. There is no end. So, relax. Focus on getting stronger. If you keep your eye open long enough, you'll see a fight coming your way. No reason to go looking for it. Trust me."

I heeded her words and declined the patron's request. However, I was left unsatisfied. Fu-nee and Batsu-nee may bid for passive confrontation, but I cannot. Such practices leave me feeling alienated from my heritage. The very meaning of my false name contradicts a pacifist's integrity. 

Left unfulfilled, I let my delusions fester. I know well enough that my youthful weakness could not prevent my sudden parting with my father. I know my noble journey has devolved into a degraded existence bent on swordplay and blood.

I know this. 

But I cannot care less. I've no qualms about the corruption that will befall me. Whatever cursed reality awaits me, I'm willing to meet it. 

It's quite simple really, if there is a sword in my hand, I will live. I will breathe unto my last.

Still, I sometimes wonder about another life. One where my father allowed me access to the outside world. One where I met Fu-nee and Batsu-nee as actual sisters. A life with…

It must be… 

It must be the ailment. 

It's strange how deluded fantasies can make your heart race.

Settle down. Settle down.

"Yachiru?"

A soothing voice enticed me away from my musings. 

Oh no…

My scar is warming up.

I can't be caught staring again! But I can't stop.

Why do I feel so greedy?

I have to stop! 

Look at that wall. Wow. What superb construction. The texture. The surface. Its face is quite… striking. 

"Yachiru? Is everything okay?"

"Y-… Yes."

"Is there something behind me?"

"No."

I don't know. I don't know what's happening anymore.

I have to leave!

"Shishō, what are we doing here?"

Why can't I leave?!

My vision drew back to his figure. We were alone, sitting inside the kitchen. A faint frown expressed Shishō's troubles. His eyes sharpened into a knowing look. Two eyebrows knit together, adding to the severity of his next words. 

"We're gonna talk about how you feel."

*thump* *thump* 

*thump* *thump*

The sudden confession left me in distress. Palpitations sent my heart into a turbulent state. Emptiness swamped my mental faculties. Dryness choked my throat. Words failed to mold into sentences. 

Every second I gazed upon him, his burdened black eyes, his small frown, the more I realized my ailment may be more life-threatening than I had first assumed. His lips split apart to speak, but my heart drummed within my abandoned consciousness. 

*Thump* *Thump* 

*Thump* *Thump*

Finally, his voice cut through all other distractions. 

"I appreciate your self-control…"

The flattering remark made my skin boil in mortification. I'm sure a healthy shade of red has flushed my face. Before I could defend myself, he continued to shame me. 

"It must've been tough, keeping it inside."

*Thump* *Thump*

Not wanting to suffer this humiliation, I hopped up from my seat and reclaimed my dignity. I won't spoil this opportunity I've been given! I may voluntarily trudge through ruination, but I will not allow myself to be expelled as a disciple! My mouth steadily avoided the notions that my mind constantly imagined. 

"Shishō, I will discipline myself. I apologize for my lack of maturity. Please forgive me."

I'll bow for good measure! Lower your head Yachiru.

Shishō acknowledged my guilt, but his subsequent words led me further astray.

"It's okay Yachiru. I understand. It's hard to control your passion. As your master, I'm here to guide you. You can always come to me for help. Always, okay?"

P… P-PASSION!?

*THUMP* *THUMP*

*THUMP* *THUMP*

I was beginning to feel light-headed. The scar on my chest smoldered with intense warmth. My stomach lifted with an airy tingle. I slowly sat back in my seat, resolved to face his bold proposal.

I prepared to respond, prying my cracked lips apart. Yet once again, he steered the discussion as he wished, shattering the illusion.

"I understand. It must be frustrating, being cooped up instead of fighting."

"…ehh?"

"I was the same way."

"…"

"At one point, I solely lived for the sword. It was the only thing that kept me from death's grasp. I was bound by a calling. A duty to endure everything no matter how degrading, no matter how disgusting. It was my calling. From devotion to my comrades… to my own continued fraudulent subsistence, the sword was my instrument. There is no shame in surviving Yachiru, not when you're alone. Not when you've been left behind. When there's no one there… we learn if we truly want to survive. Comrades… or parents, we end up surviving for them… not for ourselves. This is your sword. This is your greatest fight. No matter how much you intend to conceal it with irrational cruelty, this is your truth. Do you know that Fu-chan and Batsu worry about you? Do you know they've been trying to become your sword? Your truth? Do you know that?"

"…"

"I've heard the stories. About you and your savior. Can you imagine never receiving your savior's blade? You would've never met Fu-chan or Batsu as you did that day in this teahouse. You wouldn't be here, right now. We wouldn't be having this conversation. The way I see it, this is an opportunity. It's a chance to grasp another truth. I'm not telling you to forget about your first truth. I'm telling you; you have permission. You have the means. A second sword is within reach, you just have to grab it. And trust me when I say those two idiotic swords will rend the realms for you. Understand?"

"…"

"Why are you so quiet?"

His question lit a dark flame under my foaming heart. I started to wonder if misunderstandings were a common theme between us. Well, it's Shishō's fault for using such language in the first place. 

I'm not upset. No. I'm just not very… amused. 

"Oh? Should I say something then?"

"Yachiru, did, uhh~, did something happen?"

"Oh no. Nothing at all. I was simply thinking about something."

"O-ohh. I- I just thought you sounded a little passive agressi-"

"What would give you such a notion? I'm perfectly fine. Thank you for your kind words, Shishō. I'll be sure to discuss things with Fu-nee and Batsu-nee. For now, I'll be returning to my chores."

"Dinner's…  almost ready though?"

"Of course, Shishō. How silly of me. Still, I have matters to attend to. I wouldn't want you to… misunderstand my responsibilities."

"Uhh~, sure. Don't be late…"

"Thank you Shishō."

I stood up and strode out of the kitchen. A flurry of sensations assaulted my mind. Ranging from veritable gratitude to utter frustration, I found myself in a psychological vortex.

While Shishō was being thoughtful, he wasn't. While he was impressive, he wasn't. And while he was striking my weaknesses, he most certainly wasn't…

How confusing.

I see, I must be upset. I feel unstable. 

How can something be so irritating?

It must be my ailment. 

Yes, my ailment.

Whatever it is…