Nanashi watched her friend vanish into the inky darkness of the night, their silhouette swallowed by the shadows. She paused for a moment, allowing a flicker of emotion to cross her face before swiftly shoving it down.

"Well, that's quite the dramatic exit," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Time to get back to the real business at hand."

Nanashi's brow furrowed as she considered her next move. "I wonder if the old coot is waiting for me. And more importantly, am I really that power-hungry? Or is that just what they all say about me?"

She let out a long-suffering sigh, then in a flash, transformed into her sleek fox form. With a flick of her tail, she dashed off towards her mentor's lair, determination burning in her eyes.

“YOUR LATE!” she shouted, gasping for air, barely able to formulate a proper sentence.

“Good, seeing that you are willing to get your hands dirty and we are going a little primal.”

"I am so sorry, I promise that it will never happen again. Please forgive my tardiness," Hajimo said, bowing to her.

"Good, as long as you have learned your lesson and make sure it does not happen ever again, then all is forgiven." replied.

"Thank you, my student. You seem rather agitated. I take it you have met your enemy, or should I say, your old friend?" Hajimo asked.

"How do you know that?" Nanashi questioned.

"You forget, I was the former guardian," Hajimo reminded her.

"How could I forget, when you remind me every five minutes?" Nanashi quipped.

"Anyway, I have eyes and ears everywhere," Hajimo said.

"Everywhere!" Nanashi emphasized.

"Yes, every... no, no, it is not what you think. Stop it, and do not look at me like that. Show your teacher some respect!" Hajimo roared.

"Alright, alright, calm down. I said nothing. You confessed on your own accord," Nanashi said calmly.

"I see we are not in a working mood tonight, so we might as well go home. Good night," Hajimo said, turning to leave.

"Okay... okay, I apologize for uncovering your dirty deeds, but I promise you, I am in a serious and productive working mood, Sensei!’ Nanashi called in a whiney voice.

‘What?”

“Up my what?”

“Okay, that is it, we done.” Hajimo said and began to walk away.

“Sorry, sorry...sorry,” Nanashi mumbled, clinging to her mentor's pants and refusing to let go, forcing Hajimo to drag her along to their next target.

“Are you going to release me now that we're here?” Hajimo asked, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 'Honestly, you're such a troublesome student.'

“I think I make life more fun,” Nanashi retorted, finally releasing her grip. “So, what are we doing at this village?”

'Your next target,' Hajimo replied.

“Oh!' Nanashi's eyes lit up with excitement. 'What do I get to absorb today?”

“This is something you cannot absorb. You're going to have to kill it.” Hajimo stated grimly.

“Kill it? No problem, but why can't I absorb it?” Nanashi asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“Because your next target is not just a spirit. It's made up of mind, body, and soul, and it's going to put up quite a fight for its life.” Hajimo explained.

“Sounds interesting,” Nanashi mused. 'What exactly is it?'

“Look,'”Hajimo said, pointing at a figure walking down the street, the entity raised its hands in a slow, deliberate gesture, a sound unlike any Nanashi had ever heard before ripped through the night. It wasn't a scream, nor a growl, but a chorus of despair - a thousand whispers of terror emanating from the darkened windows that lined the street. A malevolent crimson light, thick and oily, writhed around the figure, its edges seeping into the very fabric of reality."Who is that?” Nanashi inquired, her eyes wide with concern.

“Yama, the earth and dream kitsune. He feeds on sadness and fear to grow stronger,” Hajimo replied gravely.

“Okay, so what do we do now?” Nanashi asked, her tone resolute.

“We?” Hajimo raised an eyebrow. 'This is all you, girl.'

“Fine, any advice?” Nanashi pressed.

“Nope,” Hajimo said with a shrug. “You're on your own.”

“Seriously?” Nanashi exclaimed in exasperation.

“You know, what they say, a grass hopper cannot eat a blade of grass if his mother eats it for him.” Hajimo replied, folding his arms and nodding impressively at his new found and profound knowledge.

“What crap it that, you suck.” Nanshai said, walking off ready to confront her pry.

"Oi! What are you doing over there? Are you so bored you can't let people sleep in peace?" Nanashi shouted.

"Huh?" The man turned his attention to her, his face contorting with disgust the moment he laid eyes on her. "Disgusting. My, aren't you an ugly fox. Did you fall into a pit of fire before coming here? Ever hear of conditioning oils, like tsubaki or avocado?"

"I have heard of them too!" Nanashi retorted, transforming into her human form and running her fingers through her hair.

"I highly doubt it. If you did, you wouldn't come here looking like a porcupine covered in crude oil. And did you really think that turning into a human would make you look better? Ha! Don't make me laugh. It's like a rat applying makeup to its butt, thinking it could smell better."

Nanashi scoffed. "Seems like I'm getting a taste of my own medicine."

"What?"

"Nothing, I just coughed in Chinese."

"Ugh, not only are you ugly but also disease-ridden. Go back to the red-light district, you whore."

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

‘Do not get angry, he feeds off it.’ Hajimo mumbled to himself.

A crimson fury boiled in Nanashi's eyes. "That's it!" she roared, her voice a tremor through the air. With a flick of her wrist, her fan unfurled, a monstrous crimson blossom thirsting for destruction. A whirlwind of fire roared into existence, a maelstrom of molten fury aimed to turn her quarry to ash!

Hajimo's scream tore through the cacophony. "No, Nanashi! Not in the village!" But his desperate plea seemed lost on the raging inferno his friend had become. The fan slashed through the air, a comet of searing heat. Hajimo's heart hammered a frantic tattoo against his ribs as the flames licked impossibly close.

Then, with a deafening boom, the target of Nanashi's wrath was ripped from the ground. Yama, caught in the fiery maw of the attack, found himself a helpless puppet flung through the air. Trees exploded like brittle twigs as his body slammed through them, a comet of pain arcing across the night sky. Finally, with a bone-jarring crunch, he slammed into a giant oak, the force enough to momentarily stun him into a dazed silence.

Nanashi, the crimson inferno momentarily spent, turned to Hajimo. A single, fiery thumbs-up flickered in the fading light before she whipped back around, her fury rekindled, ready to finish what she started. The forest, once serene, now pulsed with the ominous glow of an epic battle.

A guttural voice, laced with ice, echoed through the clearing. "You!" it boomed, its very utterance causing the temperature to plummet. Frost snaked across the ground, tendrils reaching for Nanashi like skeletal fingers. Behind the enraged figure, the air itself began to warp, reality cracking like a pane of shattered glass.

"You will pay for your insolence," the voice continued, a low growl that vibrated in Nanashi's bones. "Did you think," it hissed, its words dripping with venomous condescension, "that I merely subsist on the nightmares and emotions of humans? A mere scavenger?"

Nanashi scoffed, rolling her eyes dismissively. "Please," she drawled, her voice laced with a nonchalance that bordered on recklessness. "You're rambling on like a lovesick poet."

The voice cut through her flippancy with a snarl. "Silence, harlot! I am not limited to consuming their pathetic fears! I weave them into existence! Behold my true power!"

With a final, earth-shaking crack, the fractured plane of reality shattered completely. A monstrous wind howled from the abyss, a gale reeking of decay and death. From the gaping maw, one by one, nightmarish creatures emerged. Grotesque shapes, formed from the darkest corners of the human psyche, stalked forth, their very presence an assault on the senses. The clearing was no longer a peaceful haven, but a gateway to a terrifying, unimaginable realm, and Nanashi, for the first time, felt a flicker of genuine concern flicker in her fiery gaze.

"Fool!" Hajimo muttered under his breath, snapping from his trance. "That unholy horde won't be enough to best Nanashi." He cast a furtive glance around, realizing the stakes were rapidly escalating beyond mere spectacle. "But I can't let this cataclysmic clash put innocents at risk. Time to quarantine this arcane arena."

With a flourish, Hajimo weaved his fingers through the air, muttering an ancient incantation under his breath. The very earth seemed to thrum in response. The trees around the clearing, giants slumbering under the watchful gaze of the moon, stirred. A collective sigh rustled through their leaves as they rose, their movements imbued with an otherworldly grace. They stretched upwards, their branches intertwining to form a colossal emerald canopy, its circumference dwarfing the combatants within. Leaves, once still, danced in a mesmerizing rhythm, swirling and weaving a verdant curtain that sealed off the arena from prying eyes. The clearing was transformed into a mystical coliseum, a stage set for a clash of titans, unseen by the outside world but promising a spectacle both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The very air vibrated with anticipation, a silent promise of a battle that would etch itself into the legends of the night.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Tengu” Yama muttered

“What?”

“You working with him.”

"I work with no one, but I suggest getting your head from the clouds, for you are about to witness a spectacle that will crack the foundation of your reality."

Yama tensed, dark energies coiling around his grotesque form as he scanned their vegetal arena. Even Hajimo found himself frozen, senses honed for whatever fresh terror Nanashi was conjuring.

A thunderous rumbling erupted outside the living barricade, like the footfalls of a thousand-strong army converging. Yama whipped his head about, claws flexing in apprehension of the coming onslaught.

Then they came - a veritable sea of geckos flooding through gaps in the towering ramparts. Hundreds upon hundreds of the tiny reptiles swarmed forth, arraying themselves before their mistress in rigid legion.

At their vanguard stood one solitary gecko, adorned in a ridiculously oversized samurai helmet cinched under its chin. Gripped defiantly in its minuscule jaws was a blade of grass, brandished like a mighty katana.

The absurd sight sparked a convulsion of bitter mirth from the demon Yama. He collapsed in a wheezing, gasping heap, his raucous guffaws echoing through the sylvan colosseum as he clutched his ribs.

“Imori!, are you serious, what should, I take my shoe off for them.”

The mocking laughter withered on Yama's lips as Nanashi leveled her crimson gaze upon the gekkos. "You know nothing, defiler," she pronounced in ringing tones. "Have you not heard the ancient proverb - one must never judge the measure of a warrior by their modest visage."

Her words seemed to catalyse an ancient sorcery slumbering within the tiny reptiles. The assembled ranks began to shudder and convulse in macabre synchronicity.

Scales fractured like shattering emeralds, plates of delicate armor cracking asunder as something monumental, something primordial, stirred to wakefulness within their flourishing legions. Flesh pulsed and reshaped in grotesque mockery of evolution's intent.

Where once huddled a meek congregation of geckos, now rose a vanguard of towering reptilian humanoids - a terrifying fusion of cold-blooded predator and sentient warrior. Sinuous tails whipped the air as each assumed a battle-ready stance, cruel talons flexing around the hilts of wicked-looking blades.

The gecko standard bearer reared back, unleashing a guttural bellow that shook the verdant arena's walls. As one, his brethren warriors mirrored the motion, a resounding chromatic war cry issuing from their maws.

Then, as though controlled by the same hive-mind, each reached to their side and grasped the air...only for shimmering blades to materialize in their clutches, pulled from extradimensional sheathes.

But these were no mere steel weapons. Each falchion, each katana and gladius blazed with the eerie emerald brilliance of jade - an unmistakable aura indicating these deadly implements were forged to counter magic itself. Searing emerald flames danced along the cutting edges, hissing with arcane potency.

Nanashi's lips curved in a serpentine smile as her reborn huscarls brandished their anti-sorcery armaments, a forest of eldritch metal poised to reave apart Yama's conjured horde. "Now, vile harbinger, let my praetorian cohort demonstrate why their valor remains unmatched, even amongst the ranks of legend!"

“Are those magic cancelling blades, but how, I thought, there was only one of them and that it had been destroyed but..”

“Are you talking about this one’ Nanashi drew her blade and pointed it at him

“How!”

“I have my ways but that is enough talk, let us see, what your little dolls of nightmares are made of, ready men!”

“Hai!” they shouted in sync.

“CHARGE!!!!!!!!!!!!”, she said, swung through the air and the imori man, charged at the enemy.

“What are you waiting for go!” Yama roared.

Nightmarish maws stretched wide, fangs gnashing as the monstrous horde surged forward. Samurai warriors met the tide of grotesque horrors head-on, blades clashing against razored claws and snapping jaws. The battlefield descended into madness - a cacophony of steel on bone, inhuman shrieks, and the sickening crunch of rending flesh.

Nanashi's eyes narrowed as she watched the melee unfold, her grip tightening on the mysterious blade in her hand. "So, the dolls of nightmare have come to play," she murmured, a dangerous edge to her voice.

Beside her, Yama's features darkened, his weathered face etched with barely restrained fury. "Then let us see what mettle they are truly made of," he growled. With a curt nod, he broke away from the fray, Nanashi falling into step beside him.

“Now, that I have you to myself…”

“Huh, you would be surprised how many men, want me to themselves, consider yourself lucky.” Yama's lip curled with contempt as he glared at Nanashi.

“You are so arrogant, it sickens me,’ he spat. ‘I'll be doing those men a favour by killing you right here.”

With a resounding clap of his palms, Yama summoned two massive rock hands that surged towards Nanashi, their gargantuan fingers curling menacingly. “Let's see how you fare against this, little girl.” He taunted.

But Nanashi was faster. In a fluid motion, she leapt into the air, her bow already drawn and an arrow of pure lightning nocked and aimed straight at Yama's heart. Yet the seasoned warrior remained unfazed, a smug grin spreading across his weathered features.

Yama's eyes narrowed as he gestured towards the rock hands, whose fingernails were now transforming into razor-sharp spheres. With a flick of his wrist, the spheres shot upwards, hurtling towards Nanashi like a swarm of deadly projectiles.

Thinking quickly, Nanashi shifted her aim, firing the lightning arrow directly at one of the approaching spheres. The resulting explosion sent her hurtling backwards, crashing into the trees behind her.

“There's no use hiding from me.” Yama growled, his hands moving in a complex series of gestures. Suddenly, the swarm of spheres exploded into a hail of jagged shrapnel, raining down on the area where Nanashi had landed. "That's it for her," he muttered, turning away.

But just as Yama began to walk away, a crackle of static electricity filled the air, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Whirling around, he barely had time to react as a blinding light surged towards him, sending him flying through the trees with bone-shattering force.

“Guess, you are finished.” She said, or so she thought.

As the lingering smoke dissipated, her gaze fixed upon an enigmatic statue ensnared in the gnarled branches above. Within its hollowed eyes, a flicker of life stirred, unsettling in its persistence. With an eerie silence, the statue’s exterior began to fracture, revealing a metamorphosis unfolding. From within the stone chrysalis emerged a figure, resplendent as if adorned by the night itself, hair shimmering with a celestial sheen and skin radiant from the earth’s nurturing embrace.

“Well, that was a close call, but too, close for comfort, I think I should end you know.”

A defiant snarl ripped from Nanashi's throat. "Not this time, Yama," she spat, her voice ringing with newfound power. Just as the earth-shaker readied his next assault, Nanashi slammed the pommel of her jade blade into the earth. The ground pulsed with a surge of emerald energy, a shimmering circle erupting around them both.

Yama's eyes narrowed. “Foolish trickery! This won't hold me!” He roared, his voice cracking with frustration as he slammed his colossal hands together, unleashing a torrent of arcane energy. But the magic fizzled, dying a pathetic death before even reaching the barrier. Confusion clouded Yama's face. His power, the very foundation of his dominion, was inert.

Nanashi's smug smile widened. "Seems your reign of terror ends here, brute," she taunted, her voice laced with an icy venom. Yama's gaze darted around the circle, finally landing on the source of his impotence, the silent legion of imori warriors, their blades now embedded in the ground, radiating an emerald glow that hummed with an energy antithetical to his own.

A guttural roar escaped Yama's throat. “You've tricked me! But even trapped, I can crush you!” He charged, a monstrous blur of rage and frustration, his fist aimed at Nanashi with the force of a falling meteor.

But Nanashi remained unfazed. With a flourish, she brought a hand behind her back, her eyes blazing with emerald fire. As Yama's fist neared, a silent whisper escaped her lips, a mantra woven from years of arcane study: “Feel the flow, harness the counter, and unleash infinite the void.”

The world lurched. In a blink, Yama vanished, his clothes drifting to the ground like a discarded shroud. The air crackled with the aftershock of his sudden absence. Hajimo, watching from the periphery, stumbled back, his jaw agape in stunned disbelief. Where moments ago stood a monstrous tyrant, now remained a chilling emptiness. The silence that followed was heavy, pregnant with the weight of the unknown. Nanashi stood alone within the emerald circle, a solitary figure bathed in the eerie green light, the victor in a duel that defied explanation. The battle may have quieted, but the true test, it seemed, had just begun.

‘What sorcery is this? Has she raptured him, consumed him into nothingness?” Panic clawed at Hajimo’s mind, a torrent of dread at the thought of what he might have unleashed. His heart pounded, each beat a drum of fear, as he grappled with the possibility that he had birthed a monster. And then, slicing through his turmoil, a voice,could it be Yama’s?, echoed, a phantom call that sent shivers down his spine.

“Oi!, Hajimo, are you still there are you sleeping?”

“Yama, he is still alive!’Hajimo got up and looked down to find Yama waving at him.

‘I did it, Sensei, check out my new skin.”

"New skin, Nanashi? Is that really you?" Hajimo's voice trembled with disbelief as he stared at the unfamiliar figure before him.

"'Mhmm, are you proud of...” Nanashi's voice trailed off as her body suddenly lurched forward, crumpling to the ground in a heap. The elegant human facade she had been wearing shimmered and dissolved, revealing her true vulpine form underneath.

The captain of her imori army, Bunza, rushed to her side, his eyes wide with alarm. "My lady, are you alright?" he demanded, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.

Nanashi lifted her head, her usual regal bearing replaced by clear exhaustion. "I am fine, Bunza," she murmured, her voice strained. "You fought well today."

A flicker of relief crossed Bunza's features, but it was quickly replaced by a look of growing concern. "Thank you, my lady," he replied solemnly. "But I fear your strength is failing. You will not be able to sustain our human guises much longer."

Nanashi closed her eyes, a shudder passing through her slender frame. "I am sorry, Bunza. I am feeling... weary." She paused, her words hanging in the charged silence. "I will not be able to give you the power to maintain your human form."

Bunza's jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. "Do not worry about us, my lady," he said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You have given us the chance to fight once more after so many years. Now, you must rest. We will find a way to get you home safely." "Calm yourself, my old friend Bunza," Hajimo said, emerging from the shadows of the trees.

“Tengu, is that you?” Bunza asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Yes, it is I.”

"Do my eyes deceive me? We thought you were dead."

"No, not yet, I'm afraid. Could you offer me some help with her? After all, I'm the one feeding you the power to maintain that form."

"Anything for my lady," Bunza answered. He picked up his master and began walking home, Hajimo walking alongside him.

"I must say, Bunza, you have changed a lot, aside from your physical appearance, of course."

"How do you mean?" Bunza replied.

"I mean, when I asked for your help in guarding the forest, you declined my offer. You also refused Sasuke’s request, but now you are helping her."

Bunza scoffed, "That was your problem, and your former student’s."

"What?" Hajimo asked, puzzled.

"You wanted me to help you in exchange for what? You and your student were going to use us for battle and nothing else."

"But isn't that what you're doing now?"

“Indeed, but tomorrow holds a promise of joy,” Bunza spoke with a softness that belied his warrior’s exterior. “Our gracious lady will seek an audience with Akiza’s mother, requesting a simple basket. Within its woven depths, she will place us, not as warriors, but as guests of honor, and lead us to a banquet under the stars where the most succulent morsels await our indulgence.”

His eyes gleamed with a rare vulnerability. “In the guise of humans, we shall partake in the forgotten pleasures of life, savoring each moment as if it were our last. And little Akiza—oh, how her laughter becomes the day’s most cherished melody! It is she who reminds us of the warmth we once knew.”

Turning to Tengo, Bunza’s voice held a gentle challenge. “Tell me, Tengo, would you have offered us this semblance of peace? Or would you see us only as pawns in an endless game of war?”

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Hajimo, sighed heavily before he answered, “I guess not”

They reached the burrow, a dark, gaping maw in the earth. Bunza gently lowered Nanashi, her unconscious form a pale weight in his arms. Hajimo, his face etched with a worry that didn't quite reach his eyes, summoned a tendril of emerald energy that lifted Nanashi deeper into the cool, damp darkness.

"There," he muttered, the word hollow. Hajimo turned to Bunza, a tense silence stretching between them.

"Will she be alright?" Bunza rasped, a tremor running through his normally sturdy frame.

Hajimo's smile was a thin line, not reaching his eyes. "Of course, just overworked. Nothing to fret about, old friend."

But the endearment felt hollow, a stark contrast to the urgency that had coloured Hajimo's voice moments ago. Bunza wasn't buying it.

"Stop the charade, Tengu," he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "I felt it too. The way she drained us, all of us. Even with your...technique, I can barely hold this form. It's not a simple absorption, is it? Nothing I've ever encountered."

Hajimo's smile vanished completely, replaced by a steely glint in his eyes. "That's quite enough, Bunza," he said, his voice like ice scraping against stone. "I have urgent business to attend to. We'll speak later."

Before Bunza could protest, Hajimo vanished in a swirling vortex of emerald leaves, leaving behind a lingering scent of ozone and a chilling silence.

Bunza stared after him, a knot of unease tightening in his gut. What was Tengu hiding? What had Nanashi unleashed with that borrowed power? A shiver ran down his spine, cold despite the setting sun. He knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that this was far from over. With a heavy heart, Bunza shrunk down to his tiny gecko form and darted into the undergrowth, the weight of unspoken secrets clinging to him like a shroud.