Hougu Wars

A myriad of tablets hung, some forgotten and some shattered, and a few idols sat tarnished along the ash-paved hall—texts and features nigh unreadable. Tombs lay scattered across this foreboding scene, having painted the destruction wrought with time, leaving only a narrow, gravel path cutting across the center. One could pry a stray shard of a lone bone or two from here occasionally, if only they'd squint their eyes hard enough.

Crossing amidst this earthen strait led to the gates marked with skulls and emblems; skulls of brass, carved with gems of ruby for its beady eyes; and emblems fostered from the bones of the fallen, etched like burnt ashes.

These were revealed by an incandescent lume raised from the lantern riddled with kanji, representing an olden language of the far east. Scribbles of these gargantuan gates had then elicited a sheen of gold and ivory.

"The highest tier has been pacified." A firm tone cut through the serene silence of the dead, the girl in her seeming teens turning to the lady beside her. "With this, Mistress, you may proceed with ease of heart."

A contour of the lips were curved high, the black-garbed woman's long locks remaining as still as a curtain when she had raised her lantern. Reminiscent of the night's sky, one wouldn't be able to see these locks from the front, for they'd blended so well with the unlit hall. As the blue frame of a hologram faded away from the smartwatch of her attendant, nothing but the drips of blood had reached her ears.

"Hoh, that is good to hear." A finger of the older of the two had met the gates. "'Tis but the former vessel of the *Hourai* that remains."

Her eyes were fixated on the symbols bored therein, drawing a line from up to down with the tip of her finger, drawing dust and black as blood sank through. No doubt, the exterior was jagged, almost lost to the naked eye—not that she cared.

A division between the skulls and emblems was forged between the handles.

"These gates of *Hihīrokane* shan't cease my march," she declared so with finality.

Her blood was unlike others, after all.

The gates were enveloped in a faint glow, now invested with the essence of an *elderly* lineage. Slender strips of white had unfolded from its edges, racing to the far ends of the walls as the chamber woke to life, shuddering! Was it quivering in fear, or celebration? But to the teen companion, it was a mere greeting to whom she called the *Ruler of the Night*, who had soared through the tumultuous sea and the barren lands to find what one would call an ancient dwelling.

A home of the dead.

"Come, Mimori," the woman stepped forward, having lowered her lantern, "the Bejeweled *Leaf* awaits."

The gray-haired girl strode by her side.

"Yes, Mistress."

Meanwhile, at the streets of the marketplace far outside—

"Have you heard about the clash in *Hakagawa Street*?"

"Yeah, getting rowdy up there, huh?"

This was an exchange between a middle-aged vendor and a slender man in black. The former had a holographic board listing his stock for sale. A great portion of this had consisted of fruits and vegetables, each with understandably mundane names. But then the foreigners passing along were curling their brows, peering over this assortment of nature to be festering with buzzing flies and crawling worms.

The rancid scent that accompanied it hadn't made it any better, not for the younger-looking man who towered over the kiosk, nor the entirety of this commercial street. That said, they were *long* used to it by now.

Aside from some random drones humming over the wares amidst the hustle and bustle of the place, enthusiasm filled the atmosphere with the variety of adverts playing off numerous boards of Augmented Reality, coupled with the calls of the many hawkers running their stalls. It was a tough world in itself to eye over, one could certainly *smell* the competition here.

"Ah," the young man had turned away as a thought had occurred to him, "no wonder they told me to keep the kids away from there." 'Well, it's far away, anyway.'

"Aye, get 'yer folks on a leash. White Robes runnin' 'bout. They want blood," the vendor was all but huffing, a foul breath adding to the gamy air, "and they want it bad."

The one in black just wore a nervous smile, one mixed with a shred of apologeticness. His arm tightened across the bag he held. "I'll warn the kids about it, but I doubt they'd—"

Heads craned up to the blanketed heavens shrouded in gray, voices quelling across the street. More specifically, the denizens were now facing the distant mountain in the west, just as he did. Terse flashes emanated, thunders of the arcing lightnings were heard only as distant grumbles born of nature's whims. Or were they?

"…Wanna bet some fat nutcase of an utter arse bothered the great monk *Acala*?"

"Perhaps he's just angered over a lack of offering?" He gave his shoulders a jerk, now the smile wearing off altogether. "I have condolences for whoever's facing his wrath though. As for whether they'd leave alive—"

"Not even in seven hell's name they can!" The older man struck his nose high, eyes closed in surety. "What fool would even bother?"

"Even just crossing those mists to get there…"

"Yee, that's why we hawkers give and take." His index finger was rolled as he spoke in a matter of factly tone. "It's how it is here in Kamui, Foreigner: don't trot to the forbidden ST☆R of *Naraku*, the *Castle of Death*, the *Holy Mount of Penglai*, and whatever 'ya know flays thy hide; you follow your *Lane* like the *Leylines*."

"Right, right." The apparent customer nodded, stopping himself from raising both his arms lest he'd drop his bag. "I'll keep that in mind, Mister."

Just about everyone he'd shared words with had this saying to share. *"Follow the Lane like the Leylines do,"* or some variation of it. He shook his head on his way out of the marketplace after thanking the vendor, heaving a sigh.

'The Temple's out for someone in Hakagawa…'

The image of children playing their games to pick their playgrounds flashed through his mind and his head was perked. Even before that, there *was* that shady area around here known as *Susukino*.

'What if—?'

"Suppose a detour's in order."