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2. Hidekazu

2

Hidekazu

H

idekazu

and

Masanori

wove

between cutleaf maples and trampled through patches of maidenhair in the direction of the woman’s screams. Darkness laced the energy pulsating through the gardens, prickling his skin like cat’s claws. Hidekazu had experienced similar sensations a handful of times—all of them unwelcome.

Purple flashed behind a line of cedars. “No!” the woman shrieked, her voice travelling further away.

Masanori shoved the boughs of a maple tree aside, and they stumbled onto another garden path. Opposite of them stood a figure garbed in black robes, a gnarled staff in hand. A bleeding eyeball was mounted on top, violet tendrils seething from the dilated pupil. The unnatural energy coiled around a woman like wicked snakes, capturing her in their vile embrace.

The visual solidified what Hidekazu feared: corruption. Its vile aura thickened the air, constricting Hidekazu’s lungs as he took in the scene before him.

Ki that defied the will of the Dragon Goddess, Shirashi, and the laws of nature.

“Oh, look who came—the Genshu twins.” The figure’s whiny voice twisted the Seiryan words, mocking the language’s precise syllables. “Too late, it seems, or too soon? Hm, hm, hmm, who knows?”

Hidekazu rapped his fingers across his staff. The dazzling, azure light of water ki spun around the weapon on instinct. But in the wake of the sorcerer’s greeting, he hesitated. “Who are you? How do you know who we are?”

“You are not supposed to be here, supposed to deal with you

later

. Go, go.” The figure waved a dismissive hand, but Hidekazu and Masanori only raised their weapons higher. “No? Wish to play so soon?”

“We’re not playing. Let her go, and we can avoid further conflict,” Hidekazu said.

He wasn’t a fighter. He hadn’t been trained for combat; his art was of shields and defence, not blades and fiery attack. But this sorcerer was the enemy of all Seiryuu. How could they avoid confrontation with someone who blatantly defiled their sacred energies and attempted to steal away with a woman into the night?

“Oh, my silly Genshus. Never learn, do you?” A streak of lavender shuddered from his eyeball staff, flying toward the twins. Masanori ducked and rushed to face the sorcerer without a second thought, a battle cry in his throat.

Hidekazu forced his doubts aside. Now wasn’t the time to hesitate. “Masa, shield incoming!”

Blue energy twisted upward, and he pointed his staff at Masanori. He swung the wood in a memorized pattern, forming the mystical symbols—kigou—that allowed Hidekazu to control ki at will. He lacked confidence in fighting but not in his ability to keep his twin safe.

The Goddess’ energy in his veins responded, and ribbons of hot and cold rushed through him. Symbols scattered into dusty motes and collapsed into the nearby pond, pulling water and light into a beam headed straight for Masanori.

As Masanori swung at the shadowed figure, the watery barrier twirled around him in time to block a spray of blood from the sorcerer’s blinking eye staff. Crimson seeped through the liquid, thickening it into a brown sludge that slopped onto the cobbles.

A cold sweat broke out on Hidekazu’s back as he strained to maintain the shield. Compared to the energies he had experience defending against, dealing with corruption was like punching blocks of reinforced stone. His resistance crumbled beneath the intense pressure. Energy flitted from his fingertips in the wrong directions, and the barrier collapsed.

The remaining water doused Masanori, but he shook his shoulder-length hair out of his eyes and leapt over the dark muck toward the sorcerer and the captured woman. A fissure of plum-purple light cracked open behind the dark figure, distorting light and space. Masanori swiped, and a metallic ring sounded when his blade hit a translucent barrier that hadn’t been there a second before. Energy shuddered back at him, dashing any hope of rescuing the woman as ki threw him back and right into Hidekazu.

The twins rolled, landing in a heap on the opposite end of the path. Hidekazu roared as he bit his tongue while untangling himself from Masanori. Time wasn’t in their favour, and if they weren’t quick—as they looked up, the woman was disappearing into the portal.

Too late.

Hidekazu swayed. His failure hit him like a punch to the throat, and his whole nervous system revolted. This wasn’t the end. He wasn’t going to sit by and watch this sorcerer get away. Energy hummed around Hidekazu like fireflies as he reached deeper inside himself, seeking the ocean within to leverage the true strength of his ki—the power of someone who wielded all four elements.

“Stop. We’re not done with you yet.” Masanori raised his katana again, advancing while Hidekazu prepared a spell.

Alone, the robed figure tilted his head back to reveal a skull mask. Two ivory horns curled from the sides of his head, his dark purple eyes shimmering against the dark of night. Hidekazu recognized that mask, but he’d seen similar ones in person fewer times than corrupted ki.

“Too late, too soon, what does it matter? The games began oh-so-long ago, little Genshus,” the figure said, “and this time, you murdering xaortl can’t keep up, no, no, no.

I

will win.”

As the masked figure stepped into the fissure after the woman, Hidekazu’s ki ripped up the stones lining the garden path. This woman deserved better than two inexperienced teenagers as her defenders, but the twins were all she had right now.

Despite all the ki to Hidekazu’s name, only a weak spark flew to his fingertips. The energy latched onto his desperate attempts to shape his intentions and the stones into an attack. Ki warped and cracked beneath his untrained hands. His power evaporated into a cloud around him, useless.

By the time Hidekazu mustered sufficient ki to fling a single sharpened stone, the portal closed in a flash of dark light shaped like a black cherry blossom. The rock clattered on the path, splashing in the grimy water.

Fireworks continued to crack overhead, showering the puddles with reflections of gold and crimson light. Oblivious to the tragedy within the city walls.

A thousand questions teetered in Hidekazu’s mind, but the first one to come out of his mouth was what caught him off guard the most: “How did that monster know who we are?”

The question hung between him and Masanori for minutes before either spoke again. Around them, the Midsummer Festival carried on. The thrum of dance and drumbeats gave the city a heartbeat, the sky illuminated with enough fireworks to make the sun shield her eyes. But honouring their ancestors and the spirits of summer seemed irrelevant now.

A young woman captured before their very eyes. Both of them powerless to help her.

Hidekazu sniffed, and traces of dark energy still burned his nostrils. To create corrupted ki on accident was one thing—to

use

it, as this sorcerer had, was a clear violation of the Goddess’ gift. Violet misted from the sludge covering the path, where Masanori was poking at the brown muck with their mother’s sword.

“Don’t do that,” Hidekazu said as he climbed to his feet. “You don’t know how dangerous it could be.”

Masanori ignored him and kept sifting through the substance. “That mask—was the sorcerer a

kan’thir

?”

The image of the sorcerer’s dark purple eyes flashing through his ram skull mask sent shivers down Hidekazu’s spine. Kan’thir were goat-men that dwelled on the volcanic Yaotlan Islands far from the eastern coast of the Shimensokan continent. Their wickedness was well-recorded in Seiryan history, though Hidekazu had only seen a kan’thir once in his lifetime.

“Remember the time the bushi caught one in Meishoken?” he said.

Meishoken was a coastal city about a three-jun ride northeast from Tsukiko, where they were for the Midsummer Festival.

“Yeah.” A concerning mixture of revulsion and excitement tinged Masanori’s voice. “She lured children into the woods to use as sacrifices to Ozeki. When the bushi finally caught her, they paraded her corpse through the streets of Nagasou for

days

like a trophy.”

“I won’t forget how her grey skin matched the fur that coated her lower body and arms.” The images were stained into Hidekazu’s memories, far too gruesome and bloody a scene for a child. “They destroyed her mask, and we didn’t get a good look at this one’s body with all his robes, but he has to be...”

Stories like the kan’thir who once haunted the northern edge of the Silent Hills were similar to those about

all

kan’thir: they slew the faithful of the Dragon Goddess in honour of her dark brother, the Wyvern God.

A pair that were in eternal conflict. It had always been so.

Kan’thir ancestral masks were iconic, though. No other intelligent race wore the enchanted skulls of their forebears as a device to retain the knowledge and power of their family lines… often losing a fair bit of their sanity in the process.

“All the more reason not to mess with the residue from his corrupted energy,” Hidekazu said. “We must report this right away.”

It still bothered him how the kan’thir knew their family name

and

of them specifically. Although they wore the Genshu crest of dancing ravens on the backs of their haori coats, why would a kan’thir be familiar with the emblem?

“I can’t believe this happened.” Masanori finally stopped poking the gunk and rubbed the remains off the golden blade until the dragons etched along the sides glimmered in the moonlight. His movements were jerky as he re-sheathed the katana, the adrenaline of the encounter wearing off, though he still wore a brave face. “Okay, let’s go. The Tsukiko Guard barracks is just over there, isn’t it?”

They crossed the gardens in a hurry, light on their feet as they navigated streets filled with excited festivalgoers. The scent of baked sweet potatoes and spiced duck made Hidekazu’s mouth water, and his ears bathed in the melody of wild lutes and charming singers, but he didn’t let the draw of the festival distract him from the task at hand. For long, at least.

The kan’thir’s butchered Seiryan only made his deranged claims eerier: what

game

could involve kidnapping a woman at a festival?

Hidekazu had a nagging suspicion they were missing a big part of the story.

The Tsukiko barracks was a complex of three interconnected buildings around a simple square. An old bamboo fence obscured the yard where two large braziers illuminated a modest statue of the Goddess Shirashi, her human form draped in dragon scales.

A guard nodded to Hidekazu and Masanori as they slid open the door into an entranceway of tatami and rice paper. No decorations hung on the walls, save a single crescent moon, the emblem of the Tsukiko Guard.

At a desk on the opposite wall, a woman in an elegant black and white kimono rose to greet them. Noting the crest of their haori, she presented herself with a deep bow, keeping her face tilted down while she regarded them. “Good evening, Young Masters. We are honoured by your presence from our splendid capital. I trust the festival is to your standards.”

“Very much so, except for the kan—” As the woman began to address Masanori’s concern, Hidekazu interrupted him.

“We would like to report an incident.”

While Masanori was often content to rush ahead without considering the consequences of his actions, Hidekazu didn’t believe it a wise decision to announce what they saw. It was better to report directly to the Guard Captain first, with who they could leverage their clan’s rank to ensure the matter was investigated, not dismissed as two intoxicated teens who mistook festival wear for a monster and harmless fun for a kidnapping.

“Of course.” The woman gave a patient smile. “The Tsukiko Guard will investigate all reports of petty theft in the days after the festival. Tonight we must keep order in the streets—”

“A woman was kidnapped,” Hidekazu snapped, made impatient by the attendant’s dismissal. “You assume members of the Genshu family incapable of handling petty theft?”

“I meant no disrespe—”

“We will speak to Captain Todoroki Akihiro at once so we can detail the incident to him in person.”

Hidekazu didn’t know Todoroki Akihiro personally, but he learned the names of everyone important in Seiryuu. His father encouraged Hidekazu, as the scion of the Genshu clan, to connect with those who might forward their clan and assist them in maintaining peace throughout the nation.

Even if that meant sacrificing Hidekazu’s freedom by locking him into a betrothal he had no say in.

Masanori didn’t know yet. Hidekazu swore not to breathe a word until the arrangement was finalized with the emperor.

But watching his twin pine over the young woman Hidekazu was supposed to marry—even if he didn’t want to—grew more painful each day.

The attendant’s eyes crinkled with concern. “A kidnapping, you say? Were Captain Todoroki available, I would send you to him at once. However, he is not here.”

“Where might we find him?” Masanori said. “With your blessing, we will seek him out.”

She hesitated before bowing her head again. “I must request you to leave your report with me.”

Hidekazu and Masanori shared a look of discomfort. They were unfamiliar with the inner workings of a city guard, but this didn’t seem like the correct procedure. “Shouldn’t the Guard send search parties out immediately?” Masanori pressed.

“The Tsukiko Guard will look into the incident as soon as possible.”

“There is only so much time to spare. We’re not talking about a regular kidnapping. There was something out there—a creature, perhaps a kan’thir, one who corrupted the Goddess’ blessings for his sinister ends.”

The worry in the woman’s eyes flickered and deepened, but she held her stance.

Hidekazu’s jaw clenched. Leaving wasn’t an option. “Very well. We will tell you everything that happened.”

After describing the night’s events, Hidekazu and Masanori left the barracks with an exhausted, long-winded sigh. Reporting what happened and not being able to talk to the proper authorities somehow felt worse than not being able to rescue that woman in the first place.

Hidekazu knew they shouldn’t be expected to fend off a chaotic kan’thir on their own at their age, but they hoped to at least get the right people involved. Leaving the guard barracks without a single person by their side to help find her… well, that made Hidekazu feel helpless, and majyu were supposed to be the opposite.

Tomorrow morning, they would meet with Aihi and Torra and tell them what happened. No doubt, the true extent of their guilt would come out in full force. But what else could Hidekazu and Masanori do at this point?

Hang on. Hidekazu’s eyes lifted to meet Masanori’s.

Aihi was the crown princess of Seiryuu. They didn’t need to wait for a barracks attendant to decide the captured woman was a top priority, or for Captain Todoroki to return. Hidekazu and Masanori could go right above Tsukiko authority and bring the case right into the hands of someone who would care: Aihi herself.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Hidekazu said.

Masanori kicked a loose stone off the wooden steps. It hit the base of the Goddess statue. “I hope first thing in the morning isn’t too late.”

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