"Master Bushido, wherever are you rushing off to in such haste?" Yasumasa asked, a soft, infuriatingly serene smile playing across his features.
"You insolent brat... do not play dumb with me. You were the mastermind who instructed that old witch to perform the seance, weren't you?" Bushido spat, his single, scarred eye aggressively scowering Yasumasa's relaxed posture.
"Who, me? Never. Why would I ever do such a thing?" Yasumasa giggled, fluidly raising the wide, silk sleeve of his fine kimono to obscure his mocking smile.
Yasumasa's gaze then drifted slightly behind the older warrior. Resting against the veranda was a colossal, heavy staff completely swathed in thick layers of sacred sealing paper (Ofuda).
"You are actually taking that primitive relic with you?" Yasumasa pointed a delicate finger toward the weapon.
"Tch. What choice do I have?" Bushido grumbled, his voice low and annoyed. "I need to reach the Shumai as soon as possible. Seeing how I lack the ability to utilise that flashy teleportation technique of yours, this remains the fastest method at my disposal."
The moment Yasumasa casually reached out and grazed the weapon, the sealing tension snapped. The dozens of paper talismans binding the shaft instantly tore open, shredding into the wind. Revealed beneath was a massive, unseemly wide, crimson iron staff. Its tips were aggressively banded with thick black lines, and the raw stuff continuously hissed, exuding violent, erratic sparks of golden lightning into the air.
"Ohhhh…" Yasumasa whispered beneath his breath.
Heaving the massive iron weight onto his shoulder, Bushido adjusted his footing on the wooden deck. A soft, sudden breeze kicked up, rustling the courtyard trees as he shifted his stance. He extended his opposite hand forward, opening his palm like an archer aiming down a sight, subtly pivoting his frame until a wild, feral smile finally broke across his weathered face.
"Hmmmmmm... there it is!!"
Ssssssssssssss!
With a thunderous roar, Bushido hurled the crimson staff straight into the open sky. The weapon cracked the sound barrier with immense speed, transforming into a streak of red lightning as it whaddled away into the clouds, with Bushido preparing to follow its destructive trajectory.
"See you later, brat!"
With a deafening crack of thunder, Bushido vanished from the wooden veranda. Moments later, thousands of feet in the air, his heavy form materialised cleanly atop the crimson iron staff, crouching balanced upon the weapon as it tore through the upper atmosphere, screaming in a direct northwest direction.
"Mmmm... to think he actually set off on his own accord," Yasumasa murmured, watching the sky fracture from the sonic boom. "I suppose Minamoto's potential truly is that immense... if Bushido is willing to leave this place after so long."
Leisuredly interlocking his hands behind his back, Yasumasa stepped forward across the courtyard. He looked out toward the horizon where the red lightning trail was rapidly fading, curling his thumb and forefinger into a tight, precise circle to peer through it like a spiritual lens.
"It truly is a magnificent art, to be capable of traversing the realm at such a staggering velocity. By the Hour of the Crow, I am certain his boots will have touched down upon that wretched island," he sighed, taking a deep, calm breath.
This forbidden travelling method allowed Bushido to move at the absolute speed of lightning, but it possessed a fatal limitation: it could only travel in a perfectly straight line. Before launching himself, Bushido had to meticulously calculate a path containing the absolute least amount of physical resistance. Yet, the topography of the land is ever-changing, and the mountains possess their own rugged terrain. If a mountain peaks directly along his trajectory, Bushido does not swerve. He strikes it head-on, boring a clean hole straight through the solid rock. It was precisely this reckless, terraforming methodology that earned the old warrior his other terrifying moniker:
The Right Hand of Creation, Bushido.
"You truly are the unluckiest soul I have ever encountered, Minamoto no Yorimitsu," Yasumasa smiled faintly, dropping his hand and turning away from the sky. "To think that on your very first campaign into the wilderness, you would uncover the secret laboratory of the immortality-obsessed demon... Orochi."
…
Back within the depths of the Sanctuary.
…
"Ohhhh... it seems that young commander is rushing straight toward my chambers," the silhouetted man mused, his unnaturally wide, bored white smile stretching in the darkness. "He will make the most magnificent raw material for my crucible. And yet... There is something about the resonance of his soul that feels intensely familiar to me. I simply must have it."
The Master let out a low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated through the floorboards.
"When was the last time my heart beat with such lively anticipation? Come along then, boy... show me the absolute limit of your powers"
…
On the rooftops outside, Yorimitsu was pushing his body to its absolute threshold.
'I truly have no choice but to unlock the restraints,' he realised, his teeth gritted against a sudden, surging internal pressure. 'I can sense the aura from here. That creature possesses a level of power that might even rival my father if not eclipse him entirely.
As Yorimitsu bounded fluidly from ridgepole to tiled roof, the intricate, sacred markings branded into the flesh of his hands began to pulse with a violent, blue light. He was dismantling the lines of the seal. With each layer of the seal he tore away, his Reiryoku skyrocketed, the ambient air around him fracturing and warping under the sudden influx of gravity.
"Mmmm... that makes three," Yorimitsu panted heavily, steam rising from his overheating skin. He forced his hands closed, stopping the release. "It seems this is the absolute limit of what I can unlock without completely losing my reason and falling into madness."
Stepping off the final rooftop, he arrived at the outermost perimeter of the grand pavilion.
The structure was entirely different from any architecture Yorimitsu had encountered across the island. It was colossal, its tiered roofs towering so high into the mountain fog that it seemed to scrape the heavens themselves. Polished green jade stones were meticulously embedded into the walls, gleaming through the dark with a dazing, hypnotic stupor that made the mind wander.
Taking a deep, stabilising breath to steady his racing pulse, his eyes narrowed.
"I am ready."
He leapt down from the precipice, his sandals landing softly upon the pristine courtyard stone. His steps were slow, heavy, and deliberate as he closed the remaining distance toward the grand entrance.
Grrrweeeeeeeeeeeeh...
Without a single hand touching the iron rings, the giant, towering golden doors of the pavilion slowly groaned open of their own accord, parting to reveal the pitch-black abyss within.