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Chapter 3: 金継ぎ: 'Golden Joinery'Chapter Text

Over the week reprieve that we were given by the Elder, Mother and I have become closer. With my acceptance of her came a level of attention I was unprepared for. It seems that the void from the death of my father is being filled with me now, or alternatively, she is simply that bored. We reached something resembling a normal mother-daughter relationship. If you squint. Hard.

Whatever the case, I have more important things to consider. The Elder is my grandfather, by his own admission. From the spectacle of the Trial, I'm not naive enough to think this grants me protection but it is an opportunity. As his descendant, he will want me to be the strongest and as long as I am, he will support my growth.

From what I remember of Japanese mythology, Oni-kind Youkai were renowned for their brute strength. Beyond that, there were anecdotes of limited regeneration, an implication of shapeshifting, and the idea of being undefeatable in direct combat.

From what little I have experienced in this life I know that the weak will be crushed underfoot of the strong. Every time I close my eyes I see the man and the children, dying once more. Clenching my hands into fists hard enough to draw blood, I make a vow. I shall reach the heights of strength in this world till I may move unfettered, unchallenged, and unwavering. So drawn, in words and in blood, I give this oath to the world.

In short order, we arrive at the Elder's compound. After a greeting, his servant ushers us to the dojo, where my training will begin. The Elder is sitting in seiza in the center. He is wearing a simple black keikogi held closed by a golden belt. I would have guessed he was meditating were it not for the heavy fog of malice that lay in the air.

Meditation is used to center oneself, to find balance in turbulent emotion. What the Elder is doing is reveling. Taking his anger and stewing in it, growing it in a perversion of meditation. The primal part of me recoils in fear, wanting to flee from the source of this oppressive aura. Instead, I walk forward.

With every step, I close the distance between myself and the center of the room the aura thickens. By the halfway point I'm sweating. Two-thirds there I've begun shaking. By the time I reach the center my vision is fading but still, I execute a shallow bow and join the Elder in seiza.

Abruptly the aura fades. Gulping in the air, I catch begrudging respect enter the Elder's eyes before he mercilessly crushes it. The corners of my lips twitch before I'm hit with a vicious backhand, knocking me down. Sitting back up I move to spit the blood from my mouth on the floor but think better of it and swallow.

"Bow lower next time. You lack respect. Your fortitude is adequate yet your attitude must be tempered. This dojo shall be your home till you are worthy of my teachings. You will eat, sleep, bleed, and sweat in this dojo." He pauses, assessing me with his eyes.

"I will shatter this weak form of yours. Do you see this tokkuri?" He brings forth a jug of sake. The jug has artful lines of gold along it moving in indiscernible patterns. "Over decades I have broken it many times. Each time I repair it, it becomes more beautiful. This I shall do for you. I will break you, constantly. In the end, you will either become something beautiful or I shall leave you in pieces."

Seemingly remembering he's talking to a child he rephrases, "You will be beaten down, day after day. What you learn will be up to your determination and instincts. I will not coddle you, no forms will be taught, no kata will be practiced. Every month you will be thrown back into the pit with a new opponent. You will win or die. Am I clear?"

"Yes." I grind out, tempted to snarl at him.

"Good, now let's begin." That is all I hear before my world goes black.

Waking back up my head pounds in agony. Brushing my hand across my head I cut myself on the jagged edges of a broken horn. Blearily looking around I catch the Elder arguing with my mother at the side of the dojo.

"You bring her here for what? My son at her age at least moved his eyes before I had lain him out. Give me a reason I shouldn't just kill the two of you now!" Rage wells up inside me as I push myself onto my feet. With the full strength of my will, I shove my body into motion crossing the distance.

Leaping, I take a swipe at the Elders back but he catches my hand in an iron grip. "Hm, quick recovery, and excellent aggression. Perhaps, she does have potential." Saying so he flings me at the wall.

My back explodes in pain and stars erupt across my vision. As I fall to the floor, I manage to stay conscious, even if just barely. Struggling I move to stand once more. "Spirited… but spirit alone isn't enough."

I feel him put weight on my back even as I struggle to push myself up. The more I push upwards, the harder he pushes down. Snarling I force every ounce of strength out of my muscles, tearing them in exertion. Even still, with this burst of power from my young body, I find myself forced to the floor.

"Push yourself and grow strong." My reward for my efforts is the Elder painfully gripping my hair and violently slamming my face into the floor.

My routine continues like this for a time. Within the first week, my horn grew back. It was then broken as I was powerless to stop it. My anger grew beyond what I ever thought possible and I saw no change in my abilities. This all was a pointless exercise in sadism! What could I possibly get out of being beaten within an inch of death constantly?

Waking up in this dojo has become my own personal torment. Each morning I am forced to clean the dojo of my own blood, lest it stain my new 'home'. The afternoon is me being beaten until I pass out from either pain or stress. My evening is my mother bathing me and telling me how proud I make her. My meals taste like ash and my sleep is fitful, unfulfilling.

Today after cleaning the dojo my routine is broken. The Elder walks into the room and inspects the job I've done cleaning. I learned early on not to miss anything, washing and scrubbing have rapidly become my superpower. "Come. Today we see your progress." Without another word he leaves. I stare at the spot he was for a moment before hurrying to follow.

It seems a month has passed in this hellish cycle as we head to the temple once more. This time when I'm lowered into the pit, I'm alone. Soon the 'opposition' is dropped in as well. A young girl who can't be older than fifteen is lowered down. Her wiry build, sharp eyes, and shifty demeanor all say she is a street rat.

Noticing me she looks up to her captor questioningly. The Elder sighs then, surprising me, tosses a knife that lands at the girl's feet. Fuck, why is this even happening? My body still aches from yesterday's training, luckily I don't have any recent head injuries. Maybe that was by design.

The girl eagerly grabs the knife. Looking at me pityingly she advances, cautiously. When she gets close I realize she has a clear advantage in reach. I dodge her probing slashes and stabs. Compared to the Elder this girl is barely moving. I may not be fast myself but my perception is enough to see all her movements with ease.

She overextends when she stabs which puts her off balance. With that in mind, I wait till she repeats the mistake and grab her hand halting the movement of the blade. She tugs in an attempt to pull back yet I stay unflinching. Marveling at this I think how weak humans must be. No, how weak I was.

I glance up at her face and see fear, fear at me. Everything about the situation comes back to me and hits my conscience like a hammer blow. Stumbling back I let go of her. We're both victims here, why are we fighting?

Before I can think of an answer a burning pain sears into me. Backing up I notice the knife sticking out of my arm and the girl smiling wide, feral, in front of me. God, I'm an idiot. There are no victims here. Only the victor and the dead.

Ripping the knife out of my arm I throw it at her with all my strength. It embeds itself into her leg but the force behind the throw snaps her leg back in a sickening crunch. She screams as she falls forwards. Once on the ground, she scrambles backward over herself, her leg dragging grotesquely. Her eyes are flowing with fresh tears from the pain or perhaps the image of me stalking towards her, hatred burning in my gaze.

Hitting the back wall of the pit she starts pleading, begging me not to kill her. I feel that same pang of empathy crawl up but I ignore it. All it takes is a glance back to my arm and the blood flowing from it to remember where that got me last time. I climb up her body and she tries to beat me off with her arms. Compared to the Elder her hits are like feathers.

Soon I stand on her chest, eyes boring into eyes. Something inside her cracks and her eyes dull slightly, sensing the inevitable. This image of the broken girl I take in full, putting it beside the ones of the dead infants and the broken man.

I will carry your grudges alongside mine. Fueling my rage they will be what ends this senseless slaughter. You may hate me or curse me but I will tear this down once I hold the power. With that thought, I thrust my claws into her chest, watching the light fade from her eyes.

Traveling back to the dojo is a silent affair. Not due to mourning, simply there is nothing to say. We both know my error and know I will be punished tomorrow, it is fact. I lift my hands towards my face, the girl's blood is starting to dry and flake off them. Soon, even this will be naught but a distant memory. It shall remain as such but not fade further

My routine altered slightly over time but stayed identical in its essence. My hatred for the Elder swelled. My bond with my Mother grew firm. My body grew strong. My instincts were steadily sharpened. As time passed my opponents changed to become more skilled or simply more. They died all the same. Mercy was a commodity I had not the luxury to pass out, so the pile of grudges grew.

In this way, the seasons changed. Flowing from one to the next they passed, in their transformations never altering. In a pique of rebellion, I began learning archery from my Mother behind the Elder's back. Her style resembles traditional Kyudo and I found the practice to be quite calming after a long day of tort- erm, training.

I learned that the Oni have an outrageously strong lifeforce when the Elder tore both my arms off before a duel in the pit. While the pain and lack of limbs were disadvantageous, I ended up tearing my opponent's throat out with my teeth. After bandaging the arms back on they were reattached in time for training the next day.

Today was the day of my next Trial, the Trial of Weapons. It had been four full years since the last trial and I was unsure what to expect, besides choosing my martial path. The Elder had forbidden my mother from giving me hints.

The last few nights there have been dreams reaching out to me once more. I've been stricken with images of a massive sword cut from bone, my mind recoils at the image but I feel a draw to it all the same. The only other thing I've been able to recall is a blood-chilling smile in the dark. The smile is terrifying… yet it almost feels approving.

Instead of back to the pit, the Elder takes me to a place I've not seen. At the southernmost edge of the village, we approach a forest. Reading the gate as we enter I understand what this test will be, survival. The forest is named the 'Den of the King of Beasts'.

In a small clearing, there is an array of armaments; there are spears, swords, axes, kanabo, kama, kusarigama, and a single unstrung bow. Moving to the section with swords, I'm drawn to an Odachi. The sword is twice my size so the idea of using it is stupid yet it won't leave my mind. After I pick the Odachi up, I notice the Elder and I are no longer alone.

Ten others of varying ages from adolescence to adulthood approach and grab weapons of their own. Confused I glance to the Elder, "Are they having Trials as well?"

The Elder laughs, a condescending thing full of malice. "No child they are part of your Trial. They will enter the forest a day after you do. Your goal is to hunt a tiger and bring its pelt to this clearing. They will work to prevent you from doing so, by any means necessary. You have five days. Begin."

Grabbing my sword I run into my Trial. As I envision the blood bath to come a broad smile appears on my face and I laugh, unrestrained and slightly unhinged. Finally, a chance to kill some of these bastards.