"Hahahaha! What's with the sour face? It's not like you didn't get a good deal, now, is it?"
Yorimitsu spoke with a calm, practised air as a servant girl knelt before him, tightening the silk cords of his lacquered breastplate. Across from him was Watanabe, who stood like a statue of iron, wearing his own armour of deep blue and midnight black.
"Yeah, I know that..." Watanabe muttered, his voice low. He watched the way Yorimitsu carried himself. "It's just... how are you so strong?"
Yorimitsu paused, letting a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I've had my own share of battles more than you could imagine."
"Battles..." Watanabe's thoughts churned as he adjusted his gauntlets. "It's hard to even wrap my head around what he must have gone through to reach this level. I can't fall behind. I need to work harder."
"So... how long do I really have?" Watanabe asked, the question hanging heavy in the room.
"Since I shifted your Karma, the time is ticking faster," Yorimitsu said, his gaze turning sharp as he reached for his Tachi and Katana, sliding them into his belt with a dual clack. "You have about one year. If we don't find and kill the Mother by then, the curse will realise what happened and kill you on the spot"
Watanabe went silent for a moment, then he straightened his back, his hand gripping the hilt of his own blade.
"Well, it doesn't matter," he growled, his resolve hardening. "All I have to do is find the thing and kill it. With the strength I have right now... I feel like I can do just about anything."
'Mmm... he's right,' Yorimitsu mused internally. 'When it comes to pure Reiryoku density alone, he might be on the same level as me.'
"Hahahaha! I guess that is alright then," Yorimitsu's voice rang out, steady and commanding. "You will be my second-in-command, Watanabe."
"What…."
Without wasting another second, Yorimitsu strode out of the dark, metallic air of the armour barracks. Outside, the squad was already waiting. Omaru, Gabimaru, and Okostu stood with disciplined stillness, while the shy Wabonoske kept his eyes fixed on the stone-paved ground. Two palanquins, held by sturdy servant boys, sat ready for the long trek to the North-South outskirts.
PAM!
A deep, resonating drumbeat shattered the silence. The sky was pale with a creeping, violet dusk, and a bone-deep chill swept across the Academy grounds.
"So, they are going to perform a cleansing rite, eh?" Yorimitsu mused, his eyes narrowing as he adjusted the hilt of his Tachi.
At the centre of the courtyard, the Hōsōshi emerged. He was a figure of terrifying authority, draped in a heavy bearskin that made him look twice his actual size. Over his face was the legendary Oni mask with four golden eyes, each one staring toward a different cardinal direction, seeing into the spirit world that mortal eyes could not reach.
He wore ceremonial black upper robes paired with striking vermillion hakama. In his right hand, he gripped a heavy halberd; in his left, a massive, inscribed shield. A devoted servant followed in his shadow, mirroring his movements with haunting precision.
The ceremony began with a low, rhythmic chanting, the ancient syllables of Onmyōji liturgy vibrating through the air. The Hōsōshi stepped forward, his voice a guttural roar that seemed to push back the encroaching shadows:
"I guard the four corners and all the bounds;
Evil spirits, depart and be unbound.
Oni and Mōryō, flee from this place,
By spear and shield, I seal your space."
The Hōsōshi moved with a violent, rhythmic grace, his voice a deep, resonant cadence that seemed to vibrate the very stones beneath Yorimitsu's boots, then continued.
"Boundaries firm, defilement flee,
By grid and corner, by spear I decree,
Spirits of plague, no longer stay,
Thus, the Hōsōshi guards the day."
As the final syllable echoed, the Hōsōshi and his servant froze in the centre of the courtyard. They raised the halberd and shield in a sharp, silent acknowledgement of the success of the rite. The spiritual pressure in the air settled, leaving the six warriors with a strange, metallic taste in their mouths.
"Let's go," Yorimitsu commanded.
The squad moved as one, flanked by the two servant boys pulling the palanquins. As they exited the Academy gates and entered the main thoroughfares of the capital, the atmosphere changed instantly.
Every step was met with the heavy gaze of onlookers. Merchants paused their haggling, and travellers moved to the edges of the road to give them a wide berth. It was a mixture of reverence and fear; in the Heian era, warriors of their calibre were seen as both saviours and harbingers of law.
"I want to be a Hiko! I want to protect you from the demons too, Mother!" a young boy's voice chirped from the crowd. His mother quickly hushed him, pulling him back into the shadows of a merchant's stall, her eyes fixed on the sharp glint of Yorimitsu's Katana.
"Hahaha... you aren't used to all this attention, are you, Watanabe?"
Gabimaru broke the silence, his voice light and airy, though his hands never strayed far from his weapons. Despite the casual remark, his stance remained perfectly centred, his eyes scanning the rooftops.
"No," Watanabe replied plainly, and the conversation was cut off.
Soon, the towering pagodas and tile-roofed estates of the capital were left behind. The dense, interlocking buildings thinned until they vanished entirely, replaced by a vast, rolling expanse of green. The air changed; it lost the scent of incense and charcoal, turning sharp with the smell of damp earth and cedar.
Suddenly, Yorimitsu raised his hand. The palanquins creaked as the servant boys came to a dead halt.
"All of you," Yorimitsu said, his voice cutting through the rustle of the wind. "Tell me something. What are your goals?"
"What...?"
The squad stood frozen. The silence was heavy, broken only by the distant caw of a crow. Okostu and Omaru exchanged a bewildered glance, while Wabonoske shrank slightly into his robes.
"Hah... I see you're a little confused," Yorimitsu said, his shoes crunching on the dirt as he paced forward. "If I were you, I would have chosen to go with Namikaze. He has the numbers. Why stay here with me?"
"What are you doing?" Watanabe's voice echoed sharply inside Yorimitsu's mind, "Do you want to start a mutiny before we even get there?"
"It's okay," Yorimitsu projected back, his mental tone sure. "I need to confirm something before we reach Kadono."
"Well," Yorimitsu continued aloud, "wouldn't it be better if we were transparent? Knowing what drives each of you will increase our teamwork, wouldn't it?"
"Hahahaha!"
Gabimaru's voice boomed, shattering the tension. He leaned back, a wild, playful glint in his eyes.
"You really are a strange one, aren't you, Taisho? Fine, I'll go first. I didn't join you for the Minamoto name or for some noble duty. I only joined because my gut told me that something interesting was going to happen if I stayed by your side. And so far?" He grinned, patting the hilt of his blade. "My gut has yet to be wrong."