16 Contingency (2)

*CLUNK Clunk*

Clashing sounds of the bokken, the wooden katana replicas, were heard outside Daija's dojo, a spacious training hall near busy Shibuya. If he wasn't in Kakuriyo, he would be here. 

He would rent the hall out to the human instructors for their daytime and evening classes. Yōkai training sessions and meetings are regularly held there in the early mornings of the weekdays, when most humans were fast asleep.

Same as always, the waxed wooden floors with the fresh grassy smell of the rolled up tatami mats at the side. The little kamidana, a dual god housing for Takemikazuchi-no-Mikoto and Futsunushi-no-mikoto, both gods of martial arts, sat quietly on an elevated wooden shelf in an east facing corner towards the windows. A quick, respectful bow to them and I turned left towards the duellers. 

Daija and another kitsune were sparring with the bokken.

*THUNK*

A quick slam of Daija's bokken and the kitsune fell.

"Get up, Shintaro," Daija said.

So this is the awkward-looking kitsune, Shintaro, which Masakage had hired Daija to train.

Daija had compared hopeless Kouki to Shintaro. Nicknamed 'Shatter glass' by Daija for his speed to slice any opponent or object until they resembled shattered glass. In short, good with torturing, not too experienced with real fighting. 

Damn it Kouki, you better be as good as Shintaro after Sojobo and Kanamura are done with you.

"Daija sensei," Shintaro asked. "Again?"

"Actually…" Daija paused. 

"Spar with Kuro. No bokken. The real thing."

Daija was using me to get rid of poor Shintaro here. While slash wounds are nothing to us, it is still bothersome to regenerate and heal. It is also the perfect excuse for him to size me up without lifting a finger. 

Smirking at him, my hand reached into Kakuriyo with one arm and dragged out the two swords tied to a special customised leather belt - my katana with the shorter wakizashi. Shintaro went into the storage area to rummage for a spare katana. 

"Are you sure that you want to fight in a pant suit…" Daija watched me remove my jacket to belt up. 

"Why not? Better than the bothersome hakama pants. Unless you want us to start the spar with the tatehiza stance."

"Nah, do what you want." Daija shrugged. 

Shintaro was in front of us. His hands gripped the tsuba, the hilt of the katana, and tested the katana with a swift swing. 

"You don't want to start with the katana sheathed in a saya?" I asked. 

The katana saya, its wooden scabbard, is the only blocker he had against my double swords. 

"Nah, I will be good with this."

Fine. Quick and easy, then. Shintaro and I walked about 4 meters apart. His katana is in position while I drew the two out.

Ah, the smell of Shintaro's inexperience from charging a few lousy ronins in the day. Humans now glamourized those ronins of the old day as the 'wandering samurai' and with the power of films, 'great' swordsmen. 

Before the Edo period, the ronin were the samurai who lost their lands and their masters. That alone speaks volumes of their incompetence. If they were the proper samurai, they would have died with their fallen daimyo masters. Those little shits were so bad in every aspect that none of the daimyo clans wanted them. 

Yeah, come to think of it, even the younger Japanese were not aware that the samurai were over-glorified employees of the daimyo, the feudal lords of the day. 

'Hey baby, I descended from a samurai clan.' Heard that cheesy line countless times from the young human males, desperate to impress their potential female prey, in Yako's clubs. 

"Come on, I haven't got all day," I yelled at Shintaro. 

"AARRRRGHHHH."

This kitsune watched too many movies. So much drama in his battle scream. And the way he held the katana while charging straight ahead. Too theatrical. Hilarity in the making. I could call it the anomaly system of fighting. 

Inches before his katana reached me, a side step on my part. 

*CLANG*

Blade countered by the katana in my right hand. A quick upward slash of the wakizashi at his torso and a loud yelp as he fell down. His katana slid towards Daija.

"Still got it in you," Daija smirked. 

***

Daija looked at her hardened face with those cold, killer eyes. He could sense her cautious stance against him. Kuro has partnered with him for centuries, yet the trust was still lacking. Unlike her father, Yamata no Orochi, whom he still visited in a little unknown shrine. 

Perhaps it is for the best that she remained this way. 

The once innocent serpent and beautiful yōkai had grown up fast amidst attempts by others to swallow her power. Kanamura, for one, broke the last straw on her back. Daija tried to warn her back then. Yet Kuro, in her stubbornness and admiration for Sojobo's grandson, refused to heed. 

I can only do that much for Yamata's daughter, he thought. 

"Nurarihyon came with news," Daija mentioned. "The anonymous sender is a ghost." 

"Then the rules of the yōkai should be known to him," Kuro said. 

"He was not inducted. A problematic vengeful one."

"Don't tell me… is he one of our executed assignments? We always took precautions." She mused. 

Daija shook his head. "Not with you or the others but with one of Yako's men."

"Those damn kitsune are always trouble," she muttered. 

Yako was getting complacent with his men. When the yōkai killed humans, they had to make sure that their ghosts could take no revenge. Through either enslavement, consuming their spirit, or ensuring that Death took them away according to schedule.

"This fellow his took down was an exorcist when he was living," Daija added. 

She added, "Yako consumes the spirit before it can take the form of a ghost. Odd that he never trained his men in that."

"His man didn't. Now, Nurarihyon has given the kitsune the notice to resolve the problem fast or else we come in." Daija said. "The kitsune will have to pay."

"Death won't be happy to hear about this," Kuro grumbled. "It pulls me in each time it gets an unscheduled death."

"Nurarihyon feels that if the kitsune can't cope, then it is better for you to talk to Death to release the shinigami on this one, since you have a better relationship with it."

That was the best method. Death had the shinigami, minions, who are effective hunters for soul collection of an evasive target. How they worked was a mystery, but they are a common sight in the mortal realm. Smaller black wisps capable of taking a human form. 

The yōkai had never interfered with them.

Even if they tried, the yōkai were powerless against the shinigami, who are immune to their powers and spells.

Not to mention, the shinigami would not communicate. Daija knew that when they took his first pet away. Even in his former god form, he could not fight Death. 

It was pointless to keep another human pet. Attachment to the mortals only brought a pain of absence later when their lifespans were up. Besides, he had the company of Kuro to cure his boredom. 

"Yeah. Death and I have such a good relationship… right. We go out on sudden dates and he leaves me paying the bill in the mortal world." Her tone was sarcastic.

"Up to you, Nurarihyon said that he would guarantee the contingency fee."

"Well, then. Hmmm. Any amount?" 

Daija nodded. "As long as it is reasonable. He and the kitsune know Death is difficult to deal with. Besides, I didn't know that you and Death are…"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP."

Daija struggled to keep himself from laughing. Her reactions are always so amusing when he teased her.