Kisaki wasn’t certain it would work. In fact, she was mostly convinced it wouldn’t. But she also realized she was unlikely to get another chance like this.

Ichitiro was still blinded from Shitoro’s attack, but that was likely to buy her no more than another few seconds.

Pushing hesitation to the side, she lifted the quill and drove it into the daimao’s wide back, saying a silent prayer to whatever deities protected the vastly outclassed.

The tip of the quill somehow punctured Ichitiro’s thick armor and his equally tough flesh. It wasn’t a fatal wound by any means, barely a pinprick, but he threw his head back and roared as if she’d stabbed him directly in his black heart.

Kisaki sensed the counterattack a moment before it happened. She yanked the quill out of Ichitiro’s back and leapt out of the way as he blindly swung his sword at her. The blade itself missed, but the black flames caught her jacket and it ignited.

She barely had time to note the greasy black blood dripping from the tip of the quill when she was forced to strip off her jacket and toss it to the side before the rapidly growing flames consumed her.

Her arm got stuck in one of the sleeves, and when she tried to yank it out, the fabric parted easily as a translucent blade emerged through the cloth, freeing her. Gone was the quill, and in its place was the blade of heaven.

♦ ♦ ♦

Impossible!

Ichitiro had been wounded before, as had any number of his brethren. It was part of who they were as a warrior race. Most injuries were inconsequential. It was one of the daimao’s great strengths. Their flesh was tough, strong, more than enough to deflect a sword or spear, and Ichitiro’s was thicker than most.

On the rare occasion something did manage to penetrate, the damage would mend itself almost immediately. Indeed, he’d fought many a battle in which he’d let a foe deliver a blow simply to watch the triumph in their eyes turn to despair as his wounds closed up before their very eyes.

It had been eons since he’d suffered an injury which refused to instantly heal, but that was exactly what had been somehow dealt to him.

The girl’s unarmed strikes had been formidable, almost respectable in their speed and power, but they were nothing that would have felled a being such as him. A momentary amusement at best.

But now he could feel the small trickle of blood continue to run down his back. It wasn’t debilitating or even particularly painful, but that wasn’t the point. This creature, a hanyou of all things, had actually injured him.

It had to have been a fluke, some bizarre side effect of her mother’s blood – a momentary spark of power before being snuffed out forever. Or perhaps a hallucination, a foul miasma of the hanyou’s own that he hadn’t thought to counter.

That had to be it. First there was that feather, a fragile thing, yet seemingly able to deflect his own weapon, the Kaokatta. He’d forged it himself in the heart of a black flame volcano upon a dying world, had used it to cleave mountains in two. So to see it bested by a swan’s quill was madness itself.

Then there was the treachery of that accursed youkai, allowing the hanyou to stab him in the back like a coward.

Nothing more than tricks.

They’d picked the wrong entity to toy with. If they hoped their cleverness would save them, they were wrong, so very wrong.

Ichitiro shook his head to clear the sparks from his vision, then turned to face where he sensed his foe to be. He was intent on finishing this. Let her try to fend off his full wrath with a mere feather.

Instead, he found the girl holding that which he both desired and feared most, the Taiyosori. Its glasslike blade was leveled at him, the point upon it so sharp it seemed to almost disappear.

♦ ♦ ♦

The look of surprise on Ichitiro’s face echoed that on Kisaki’s, though she tried her best to cover it up. She didn’t know what the other daimao knew of the Taiyosori’s powers, but he seemed shocked to find it in her hands.

This was what Kisaki had hoped for, something to throw him off his game. She still wasn’t certain what advantage, if any, that gave her in the long run, but at the moment, she was counting every extra minute of life as a small victory.

She prepared to rush the daimao and test exactly how sharp the blade of heaven was, but then the roar of engines caught her ears.

Both combatants turned to see humans headed their way in news vans, police cars, and more, but that wasn’t all. Other vehicles, larger than this first wave, were closing in on them from off in the distance, a deep rumbling emanating from them that she could already feel beneath her feet.

Airships could be seen on the horizon as well – helicopters, Tamiko had called them – although whether to attack or observe, she didn’t know. If the former, she prayed they realized Ichitiro was the enemy here. She didn’t favor coming as far as she had only to be felled by misguided hands.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Ichitiro glanced back to her and smiled, his sharp teeth glinting black in the midday sun. “So it seems I have other witnesses to behold my victory. I have no further need for your kitten.”

Kisaki’s eyes opened wide at the implication. “Shitoro, run!”

Ichitiro held out his palm toward where the tiger demon stood, power gathering in and around his hand. “Now, youkai, learn the price of daring to annoy your betters.”

Kisaki didn’t think. There was no time. She just acted.

In the moment before Ichitiro unleashed his attack, she was on the move, throwing herself in front of him and trying to shield her friend.

“Two for the price of one?” he asked, bemused. “Very well.”

He let loose with a shimmering torrent of power.

♦ ♦ ♦

A wave of pure force, the same he’d used to devastate nearly half the town, issued forth from Ichitiro’s outstretched hand. It was as if one combined the power of a tsunami and an avalanche into one invisible wall of energy.

The street in front of the daimao exploded as the concussive blast tore through it, heading toward Kisaki and her companion.

“Mistress, save yourself! Get out of the...” The rest of Shitoro’s warning was lost in the cacophony of destruction that barreled toward them.

Kisaki’s first instinct was to grab up the little youkai, shield him with her body as best she could as the end came for them. However, the Taiyosori pulsed in her hand, seeming to disagree with that course of action. Though Kisaki was certain it was madness to attribute opinions to an object, she also realized her plan was good for only one thing: dying in a most painful manner.

She turned toward the attack, said a silent prayer, and held out the weapon before her. The outermost edge of the spell reached her, nearly sweeping her from her feet. It felt almost solid, an irresistible force against...

Solid! Maybe that was it, what the sword was hinting at.

Kisaki did the only thing she could think of. She lifted the Taiyosori and slashed down with it at the onrushing attack.

She expected it to be futile, for the power to plow into her with the same force with which it had leveled buildings, pulverizing her bones to dust in the process. What she didn’t expect was for Ichitiro’s spell to part before her.

It was as if there were a raging river hurtling past on either side, while she stood unmolested on an island in the middle. The power from the spell whipped past her, causing her hair and clothes to buffet as if she were standing outside in a hurricane, but that was the worst of it. Buildings on either side of her were pulverized, but she herself was left unharmed.

“Unbelievable,” Shitoro said from immediately behind her.

She dared a glance over her shoulder and found him a little disheveled, but otherwise okay.

“No, quite the opposite,” she replied. “I think it is time I started to believe.”

There wasn’t a chance to say more, for Ichitiro raced forward, his face contorted in a mix of rage and disbelief. He was upon her in a heartbeat, even faster than his spell had been. He swung his sword and she barely countered in time, the impact so powerful it jarred her to her very bones.

He followed up with a punch that she wasn't able to fully block. It was a glancing blow, but it felt as if her ribs had been struck by a sledgehammer.

Ichitiro spun, bringing his blade to bear once more, and she just barely managed to parry. Another, and again she only blocked it in the barest nick of time.

There was no talk, just swift and savage action, slowly driving her back, blow by blow. Soon her back would be against the wall, quite literally – the remains of the diner she and her friends had taken refuge in. Once that happened, she’d have nowhere else to retreat.

Her spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak, or weaker than her opponent’s anyway. That wasn’t all. Though she wielded the superior weapon, her foe was by far the more experienced swordsman. That in itself was almost a bad joke. Kisaki’s experience was limited to stealing the Taiyosori and a lucky shot upon Crag. Aside from that, she’d never used a weapon before.

She could feel the cold logic in her head trying to dictate her actions, her father’s fighting skills helping her stay alive. His knowledge kept her arms and legs moving, dodging, and swinging. Unfortunately, she sensed he’d been more a hand-to-hand expert. Where the sword was concerned, she found her movements much more unsure, choppy, as if she was figuring it out as she went.

Her opponent suffered from no such handicap. His blade moved as if it were an extension of his arm, striking and slicing as if he’d done so a thousand times before.

It was slow, methodical on his part now. Gone was his earlier arrogance, his presumption to end this in one blow. She’d done her part a little too well. He was taking her seriously now, forcing her back and chipping away at her defenses little by little.

A blow here, a kick there, a slice from his claws, all while his own sword continued to hammer away at her resistance.

Shitoro sent a continual wave of spells, both offensive and distracting, flying Ichitiro’s way, but the element of surprise was lost. The daimao countered them all expertly, each attack fizzling before it could touch him.

Within short order, Kisaki found herself faltering. Her arms felt like rubber and her body was covered in bruises and cuts, none of them fatal by themselves, but gradually adding up.

Eventually, she felt the crumbled wall of the diner looming behind her. There came another thunderous blow from Ichitiro and she nearly lost her grip on the Taiyosori. Though the blade of heaven itself appeared to be in perfect condition, her arms were a mass of contusions from the pummeling they’d taken.

Shaking from the exertion, she dropped to one knee, her defenses all but breached, but still unwilling to yield.

The great demon paused in his attack to look down upon her. “Impressive, but ultimately futile. Know that Ichitiro shows no respect to his enemies, only disdain, but you have come the closest in many years to earning that which I do not offer.”

Kisaki smiled tiredly and then echoed something she’d heard Stephen say earlier. “Bite me, bitch.”

“I would not dirty my tongue.” He raised his sword above his head, miasma gathering once more, a miniature storm forming around him. He meant to end this farce.

She’d done what she could. There was no shame in having lost to a superior foe. She’d saved her friends, done her best to stop him. She could only hope her mother and the other daimao would succeed where she had failed, and that her mother would one day forgive her for what she’d done.

Ichitiro backed up a step, gathering lightning around his blade.

“Get behind me, Shitoro,” she said weakly.

“Mistress, I...”

“Do as you’re told,” she commanded.

If she was going to die, it would be as one of her station, heir to her mother, Lady Midnite.

The little youkai stepped between her and the wall of the diner. Meager protection at best, but it was all she could do for him. She hoped it would be enough.

Power crackled all around Ichitiro as he prepared to bring down his blade. He began to swing the wicked weapon, the air ablaze with the smell of ozone.

Kisaki braced herself best as she could, and then the world seemingly exploded around her in a hail of thunder and fire.