Before I realised it, we were passing by a building in the Residential District that I remembered well. Though its wooden façade was innocuous, and a quaint sign above the door plainly read “Dollmaker’s Workshop”, I knew that I was staring at the mouth of a Spider’s nest.
“Mitsui,” I said curtly, not using the proper suffix as was demanded when speaking to someone of a higher stature.
The Samurai Lord looked at me with a clever glint in his eyes. “Do what you have to. We will wait here for your return.”
“Thank you,” I replied, and made for the door.
“Let that old Tanuki[1] know that him and his bastard son will be united in Hell before dusk is due.”
I stopped with my hand on the door and turned to look at Lord Mitsui, who was smiling at me innocently. That sneaky devil! I thought to myself. He knows exactly where we are and who lurks below this shop.
I flashed him a fiendish grin, “Better yet, I’ll tell him that their blood will be united on the edge of my blade.”
Mitsui laughed in response, and I could still hear his laughter as I slid the door closed behind me and strode across the dark shop, while trying to avoid the dolls that hung from the ceiling and crowded the shelves and tables.
Two steps down the staircase, my Sight kicked in and amber lights crawled across every surface like hungry little worms devouring the darkness. A few seconds later, when the darkness had become a perceptible grey and all contours were visible to me, I spotted the decrepit old man huddled over a book in the back, just like the first time I’d come here.
“Not many willingly enter a den of wolves,” he said, his voice echoing off the basement’s stone walls.
“I know you’re by yourself,” I replied, as I made my way down the last few steps.
He cackled. It wasn’t a nice sound.
When I started advancing across the floor, he spun around in an instant and flung a knife at me, but I easily deflected it.
“Nice try,” I jeered.
An exhale, possibly one of annoyance.
Only five metres lay between us.
“Don’t you want to know why?”
“I already know,” I replied.
“It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“I’d believe you if you hadn’t put a bounty on me.”
“It was simply a precaution. It can be undone.”
The wounds cannot, I thought, but didn’t say.
“If money will sway you, we can—”
I’d heard enough. I lunged forward and impaled Genzō by his throat, straight through his wrinkled Adam’s apple as though I was an archer trying to score the most points possible. The momentum carried my blade into the stone wall behind him, where it got stuck. A startled and guttural sound emerged from him. The old bastard was still trying to speak even now.
“What do you think your adoptive psychopath of a son will say when he finds out you’re dead? Do you think he will smile?”[2]
I exhaled through my mouth slowly, then inhaled through my nose. I let tension build in my muscles, and then, in one fluid motion, sheared through Genzō’s windpipe and jugular as I ripped my blade through him and the stone it’d gotten stuck in. Maybe as a result of his frail body, or perhaps due to my lack of restraint, his head snapped off cleanly when he fell face-first on the dirty basement floor. The amber lights of my Sight clung to the dismembered head as it made its way across the room in a lazy and lopsided roll, and the only thought that struck me in that moment was: I never did find out how he saw so well in the dark… and of all the things I’d done today and the last many days, this was the only thing that really bothered me. Something so utterly mundane. Was it a side-effect of the Shigurui-no-Kumo that I didn’t care? Or had I already become entirely desensitised to murder?
I didn’t have the time to properly contemplate these questions, as sounds of clashing blades from above pulled me from my thoughts.
In a frantic sprint, I bounded up the stairs, taking three steps at a time, which proved to be a bad idea as I missed a step just before reaching the top, and nearly left a perfect indentation of my teeth on one of the wooden boards, but I thankfully caught myself and only lightly bruised my forehead.
I knocked over a couple of dolls on my way out, but still took the time to slide the door open, instead of kicking it apart, which wouldn’t have been difficult considering its flimsy construction. Outside, Mitsui’s unit was fighting another group of relentless Wolves, though they were holding their own, thanks in large part to the support from Hanada’s archers, who seemed capable of exploiting every possible opening, and Hanada himself even managing to hit someone in the eye by deflecting an arrow off the rim of his shield. I was glad there wasn’t any immediate danger, and Lord Mitsui even had enough of an oversight to greet me upon my return.
The Samurai Lord took a look at my blade, and upon seeing the blood, smiled gratefully. I guessed he was relieved he didn’t have to kill the old man himself, after all, it wasn’t a very honourable deed, but I wasn’t as beholden to the ideal of honour as him, nor were our enemies in white it would seem, as they fought tooth-and-nail, jumping onto blades just to take someone down with them, though after five minutes had passed, we’d cut them all apart.
“It seems we won’t get much time to relax,” Mitsui observed.
“Tell me abo—”
A three-note horn sounded from just up the street,[3] freezing everyone in their tracks, and as one we looked at the incoming group, which was several times larger than the two we’d fought already.
“Brace for arrows!” Mitsui yelled, and those of us with the quickest reflexes grabbed either the shields or the bodies scattered around us and covered ourselves. I heard a groan from the White Wolf, whose torso I was currently borrowing, as an arrow lanced him through the shoulder. Several of the men around me fell, and even Mitsui caught an arrow through his calf.
“Come closer you fucking cowards!” I yelled from beneath my blood-dripping meat-shield, and, surprisingly, a second volley never came, instead the ground shook with the disciplined march of the group of probably a-hundred-and-twenty Wolves descending upon us.
We all prepared to face a battle we’d no doubt lose, but then they suddenly stopped only a few metres from us. It was kind of bizarre to be honest, but I quickly realised the cause.
“You should introduce me to your new friends,” he said, his voice muffled by his mask and distorted in that weird way that made me think he was speaking through clenched teeth.
“Hear its blissful laughter. Let it complete you,” the voice in my ring suddenly announced
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Long time no see,” I quickly replied to Jirō, wondering if anyone else had hear the strange voice. Its presence meant that someone, most likely the Masked Psycho, was carrying a cursed object like the Weeping Blade or the Claw of the Forlorn Shadow.
“I wish you would’ve told me you preferred the colour blue,” Jirō said, feigning indignity.
“And I wish you wouldn’t have tossed me to the wolves the first chance you got… and yet, here we are.”
“What do you say we make this a bit more interesting? You and I will have a little duel, and the losing team will surrender.” Jirō basically spat out the word ‘surrender’, and, judging by the looks on his men’s faces, it was clearly the most humiliating and disgraceful thing they could imagine. But I noticed that one of the soldiers, a White Wolf located somewhat in the middle of the group, wasn’t scowling like his fellows. In fact, the entire middle of their column was just staring blankly at me and Lord Mitsui. The weirdest part was that I could’ve sworn that I’d seen some of the those faces before.
Then one of them whistled a tune and the entire White Wolf unit began devouring itself from within, as its core turned on their fellow soldiers, chopping and stabbing as many of those around them as possible, before they had the chance to defend themselves or get out of the way.
Jirō turned around, and despite his face being obscured, I could tell he was surprised, I mean, heck, even I was.
What the fuck is going on? I thought to myself. Then the Lunatic started laughing, steadying his mask with a hand to keep it from falling off.
“Hayato! If you wanted to play… YOU SHOULD’VE JUST SAID SO!”
The Masked Man jumped into the fray and Mitsui quickly gave the order for us to exploit the opportunity given to us.
The White Wolves, although outnumbering us more than five-to-one, were fighting a battle from both within and without, and it was clear that they didn’t quite know which of their friends to target and which to ignore, making them very easy pickings for us. Before a minute had passed, the unit was completely torn apart, with less than half remaining, and a large chunk of that half seemingly on our side.
“It always surprises me…” Mitsui said in-between chopping a guy in half with his Uchigatana and repelling an eager Wolf to his right, “…what the Seiryū Shinobi are capable of.”
That’s when it finally clicked for me. I had a brief flashback to the time when I’d seen two of Mori’s Shinobi don the armour of the Vermilion soldiers we’d slain. This was Hayato’s and the Azure Shinobi’s speciality: Infiltration. I never knew a skill such as this could be so effective, but it was clear that it required a lot of knowledge to pull off effectively, especially considering how Hayato and his men had replaced at least twenty of the White Wolves’, though perhaps they were vulnerable to this kind of strategy in some way, since I found it unlikely that most people wouldn’t notice that twenty-odd men suddenly were suddenly replaced.
The battlefield had changed significantly, as the remaining Wolves were fighting mostly each other, letting Mitsui’s unit and Hayato’s Shinobi quickly tear them down, leaving only Jirō. Although, using the word ‘only’ to describe the whirlwind of death that the Laughing Swordsman had become, was truly an injustice. Before Mitsui or I could step in to help, Jirō leapt on one of the disguised Shinobi, who put up his shield to save himself, but the Laughing Manic simply leapt onto the shield while stabbing his sword straight through it, killing the man beneath it, and then kicking off the shield and pulling his blade with him in an impressive front-flip that carried his blade down onto another Shinobi, tearing through his shoulder and separating it from the rest of his body. From there, Jirō ducked under an incoming blade, pushing himself into an incredible low stance, from which he sprang up and stabbed his attacker through the gut, before whirling around and drawing his blade outwards at an odd angle, cleaving bone and flesh with incredible strength. In fact, it seemed as though he became stronger with every kill, because, by the time he’d killed eight of the Shinobi, he was capable of splitting a man’s skull in half with his blade… which is the gruesome way that Shinobi number nine went. By now, Mitsui, Hayato, Hanada, and I, as well as the remaining archers and footmen, were all focused on the lone Killing Machine, but it seemed futile, as he cut down anyone who came too close, feeding on their strength and becoming even stronger. Arrows that hit him penetrated only a few centimetres deep, barely even drawing blood, and some didn’t even manage to stick despite hitting him head-on.
Then suddenly Hayato pushed one of the Shinobi into Jirō’s way, ducking left just as the Laughing Swordsman seized on the bait. As Jirō lanced his Dao through the ribcage of the man, Hayato surged up from down low and buried a knife deep into his flank, making the Masked Man scream in pain. But before the rest of us could seize on the opportunity, Jirō simply let go of his sword and spun around, smashing Hayato’s skull into a pulp with his fist and sending him flying into a nearby building, where he collapsed, all broken and mangled. The Great Shinobi was dead, his face a shattered, unrecognisable mess.
“No!” I screamed and flung myself at the Lunatic Swordsman. Jirō retrieved his blade swiftly and swung it at me, and I was surprised at how easily I performed a Deflect in response, almost like I was falling into my Dance of Death. But then, as our blades met, the bones in my wrist were shattered by the force of the impact, and though his blade was deflected away and opened him up for a brief instant, I had to back away.
After backing behind the line of footmen and Shinobi that still remained, I quickly pulled one of the two ‘Weak Healing Potions’ free from its loop on my sash and gulped down its contents as fast as possible, nearly spitting it all back out when my over-eagerness triggered a cough.
I heard Mitsui shout something, and, in response, every last one of the footmen and Shinobi charged alongside their leader, perhaps betting on the chance that their numbers could overwhelm the Demon. About that time is when I noticed that Jirō’s movements had become sluggish and stuttering, which the clever Lord Mitsui had most likely picked up on as well, deciding to test his luck.
When my wrist was fully healed, I returned just as Mitsui managed a slice across the Laughing Swordsman’s left arm in a spectacular show of skill and speed, the sword in hand flowing gracefully in-between each cut and thrust. In his youth, Mitsui would no doubt have been capable of matching Jirō’s speed, though as it stood, he wasn’t capable of keeping up with the Laughing Monster, who immediately adapted, blocking and countering every single attack afterwards, forcing the old Samurai to repeatedly back away.
A couple of overeager footmen followed me as I ran to reinforce Mitsui, but before they could even bring their swords to bear on the Laughing Man, he’d regained his speed and lunged for them, slicing the two men apart in three quick strokes.
“I have a plan,” Mitsui said briefly when I drew near. “I will hold his attention, and then you jump from out of my shadow and deal the killing blow before he can react.”
I wasn’t given the chance to ask any questions, as Jirō immediately seized on us. I dodged left and Mitsui leapt backwards. As I bounded through the air, my eyes caught on the blade in the Maniac’s hand. It was glowing. Like an orange one-hundred-percent-cursed-weapon-guaranteed kind of glow.
My feet carried me forward as soon as I landed behind Jirō, who was fully focused on Lord Mitsui. In a moment of inspiration, I came on a plan in which Mitsui’s strategy could be deployed.
“Hey Jirō, did you hear? Did you hear the pathetic screams of your father as I cut him down?”
As soon as I knew he’d caught on the bait, I charged straight at him, and just as he spun on his heel and swung his deadly blade at me, I jumped far into the air, with the kind of agility not possible anywhere else than in a fabricated world like this. Mid-air, as I passed above him, I let loose a Quick Draw, which slashed him across his face at a lopsided angle, cleaving his mask in two and sending hair from his white wig flying everywhere. In that same moment, Mitsui returned his blade to its sheath and fired off a vertical Quick Draw of his own, which carved a deep, bloody groove down the back of the man, who only cackled insanely in response to the pain.
I landed behind Mitsui, but, by the time I’d regained my balance on the uneven road, Jirō was already turned towards us. None of us moved as the shorn mask-and-wig fell away from Jirō’s face, and the most repulsive grin I’d ever seen stared back at us, the mouth pulled so far into the grin that his skin was ripped and every last tooth exposed, which, coupled with his dark, concave eyes made him look like a Jolly Roger.[4]
Mitsui moved directly in front of me and thrust his sword into Jirō’s gut, at which point my body moved on its own, carrying me right around the Samurai Lord and, in a leap, I hammered my obsidian blade tip-first down through the Laughing Swordsman’s neck, the blade graving a line in his clavicle and piercing so deep that it ruptured all the way through his most vital organs, killing him in an instant. I let my sword rest in his flesh and walked a few steps away, letting my stamina replenish, while the adrenaline dissipated.
Then I noticed. The bastard was still standing. Actually, it almost looked like he was leaning on Mitsui, who also hadn’t moved. When I went to shake the Samurai out of it, I saw that Jirō’s Dao had punched through his chest and that Lord Mitsui was just as dead as the Monster whom his own blade rested in.
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[1] The Japanese word for “Racoon Dog”. Thanks to Japanese folklore, “Tanuki” has become a word for anyone who is deemed a trickster. Depending on its use, it can be both an insult or a compliment, though I assumed it to be the former in this case.
[2] I don’t know why I was taunting the guy, to be honest. It wasn’t like he could answer me anyway…
[3] Seriously…
[4] Correction: A Jolly Roger … but with the skin still attached…