Chapter Eleven—Swords in the House

“Huuuuaaaahhhh!” Haru screamed from the depths of his throat as blood rushed to his face, his hands around his katana, stones of murderous resolve. He rushed into the kitchen with his blade held high.

As he saw Adrienne on the kitchen floor kicking her feet with a man in black atop her, he simultaneously caught movement to the left, where another figure was hiding from view of the entry.

As the samurai entered, he turned to face the most immediate threat and swung his blade, slashing the man across the front as he put up his hands in defense. He cried out and died on the tiles as Haru turned to attack the second man atop Adrienne, but his vision snapped in a white flash and shook as his body involuntarily swung to the side, his balance lost. His sword clattered to the tiles.

He blinked, momentarily unable to think due to the ferocity of the blow that had landed on the side of his face. Little white flecks still danced inside his vision as he struggled to rite himself.

“AhhhhhHHHH!!!” Fuwafuwa screamed as loud as he could, his tiny heart beating hard enough to give him wings to fly. He was scared for her, but his screaming was mostly for the reason of alarm, which had worked to bring Haru here.

Snapping her teeth, Adrienne tried to bite the man, but when Haru came screaming into the kitchen, the man redoubled his efforts and practically smothered her. Pain flared into her nose as she wondered if he had broken it while pressing down over her face so hard.

Meanwhile, she continued to kick her feet, to grasp at her rapier in its sheath. As she pulled it out, the man atop her continued smothering her and she struggled not only out of a need to escape his grasp, but also for air.

She managed to free the sword.

“Watch out!” she heard Feng snarl.

The man moved, but she hit him in the side of the head with the rounded pummel and he cried out. His grip then loosened and she was able to suck in a deep lungful of air—and with that air she screeched, “Fuwafuwa! The other—“

The hands pressed back to her mouth.

“Shut her up!”

All went to black as something hit her in the head.

Fuwafuwa ran, maintaining his invisibility so these monsters couldn’t see him as he ran for the stairs. Each step was a challenge as he used every bit of his strength to hop them three at a time, screaming all the while.

Footsteps slammed after him, but he didn’t turn to see who was pursuing.

*

As they continued searching the bedchamber of Mei Ling, Hiro’s attention was momentarily stolen as he thought he heard something peculiar.

“What is it?” Ujiro asked.

“I do not know. I thought I heard something. Screaming?”

They listened. “Probably children outside,” Ujiro suggested. “Keep looking for evidence.”

And then something inside the house made a noise, a high-toned whale, desperate for help. Both of the samurai jerked upright, their hands moving to their swords, not out of thought, but out of pure reaction.

“Is that…?” Hiro began.

“It’s Fuwafuwa!” Ujiro barked, and he lunged for the door in two strides, flung it open and glanced toward the stairs. The sounds of Fuwafuwa’s cry for help clear in his ears as he charged down the runner and took the steps four at a time.

As Ujiro slammed down behind him, Fuwafuwa suddenly appear, just as a man came after him. “Adrienne and Haru need your help! Quiiiick!”

Glancing up to the man charging up the steps, Hiro saw the glint of a blade. His thoughts barely touched on confusion, but as Adrienne’s little yōkai screamed for help, his trust was completely in the little pet and anger instantly assailed him.

Ujiro cried out behind Hiro and forced his way past. “HaahhhhhH!”

The man in black lunged at him, but the older samurai caught the blade with his staff, jerked the weapon aside and then pulled back before smashing the front of the weapon forward into the man’s chest multiple times, each hit making a solid thump and their attacker flailed for balance.

Unfortunately for him, Hiro slammed his blade down across his chest and he went down in a spray of blood. There was a quick pause as they glanced at the dead man and his wicked little dagger, which resembled a deformity with its slithering-arch design.

“Where are they?” Ujiro growled.

“In the kitchens!” Fuwafuwa squeaked as he bounced before them, his fluffy little body disappearing into thin air.

Both samurai ran down the stairs with Hiro taking the lead but only managing to put a distance of a few steps between himself and the older man as they raced to the kitchens.

*

Blinking, Haru glanced about the kitchens. They were shaded and the windows let it very little light from the grey afternoon. Adrienne was gone and his heart started beating harder, his stomach roiling with the bile of his failure.

Where was his sword?

Searching with his hands first, he brought his gaze to the dark tiles as the servants from the main antechamber continued screaming and stamping out. Three or four of them ventured deeper into the manor while others clearly went outside screaming for the guards.

Guards! he thought suddenly. Oh no.

As he found his katana, he took it in one hand and grunted as he righted his body, his head spasmed as he did and his vision swaying. He shook, expecting to regain some clarity, which he did, though it was little.

“What is happening?” a guard came into the antechamber. “What is the disturbance.

“The—the guests!” A servant howled. “They are attacking!”

“Sound the alarms!”

Just as the guard ordered a general alert, two men came screaming down the stairs. Haru stalked back out of the kitchen unsteady legs, his hand in front of him for balance.

The guard spotted him and lowered his pike, but then he jerked to his right and Hiro and Ujiro charged him. In trained hands, a pike man was no easy target, especially if he was careful to keep himself out of reach, which this one did, but Hiro’s blade slashed through the air so destructively that the pike went clattering out of the guard’s hands.

His eyes widened as Ujiro rushed forward and kicked him in the stomach. The guard tumbled backwards, rolled across his own back and fell with a heavy grunt. Just as all seemed quiet boots thundered up to the front doors, revealing Yo and the other gate guard as well as the second door guard.

More were on the way, Ujiro thought, as he looked on at their new opponents, but instead of readying his weapon, he said, “Yo!” and put a hand forward. “Wait! You do not understand—“

But Yo’s mandate, weather he was part of what was going on in the manor or not, was to protect the manor and its lady. His brows knit further, his eyes wild. “Kill them!” he growled.

The three men pushed into the antechamber just adjacent to the main reception room. Ujiro sighed, but it did not matter now. He pushed forward, his staff whipping and lashing forward, just like a pike—a shortened pike without a deadly blade—but the thick wood of the staff was still a useful weapon.

But before he could manage to knock any of the guards unconscious, Hiro screamed and lashed out, swiping two of the piles to the side, whereupon he whirled into the midst of his two attacked, cutting one across the arm and bringing his forehead into the face of the other.

As the first man went down to his knee with a grunt of pain, the other went fully sprawled onto the rugs as Hiro rounded back to the second man and kicked him in the face.

Yo was the last guard standing, and his eyes widened with apparent shock and disbelief. He recoiled, angling his pike to defend himself from the two rōnin.

“It is time to surrender!” Ujiro called.

Buy Yo only bared his teeth and screamed. “In here! They are in here!”

Two more guards made their way up the steps, undoubtedly the two that had manning the tower. But no further alarms were sounded—no bells, no calls to the men disguised out on the streets of the neighborhood.

Ujiro said no more as he lashed out with his staff, the wound knocked aside as Yo parried with his blade. The sharp edge put nicks into the wood as Ujiro retracted his strikes, lashing out like a poisonous serpent.

Then he hit Yo in the neck and the man’s eyes bulged as he dropped his pike. It clattered heavily to the floor as he grasped himself. His eyes then rolled into the back of his head and he fell back.

“You are making me angry!” Hiro snarled, and rushed his guard. The man brought up his pike, but the muscular samurai brought his long blade under it, using the backside as a place to use for pushing as he slammed his weapon forward. The pike staff went into the guard’s face just as Hiro brought his knee up between the man’s legs.

As the other guard reacted, Ujiro struck out and harried him from the side with his staff, prolonging his ability to react. The guard Hiro was dealing with grunted loudly and fell to his knees with his hands between his legs. He then went down completely to Hiro’s fist in his face.

By the time the man Ujiro fought reacted, Hiro whirled on him with his fists and he was left unconscious on the floor.

“Mm!” Ujiro noised deeply with a nod, then he turned to Haru. “Where is she? Where is Adrienne?”

Hiro grasped the samurai by the arm. “Tell us.”

“I do not know!” he said, his eyes wide and his face a mask of purple and black on the left side. The hit he had sustained had been a strong one, that much was clear to Hiro.

“In here!” a voice squeaked.

When Ujiro led the other two samurai into the kitchens where Fuwafuwa sniffled in distress, they glanced about.

“Where is Feng?” Hiro asked.

“He was the one who hit Haru,” Fuwafuwa said. “I saw him do it! And now… and now Adrienne is gone!” He then cried more loudly.

“Wait,” Ujiro said, glancing down at the floors. “What is that?” He pointed to a mark on the floors. It was subtle, more of a difference in the reflection of light rather than an actual mark.

Something had been dragged.

“I don’t see anything,” Hiro said, his tone gravely and deep.

Ujiro bent low. “You have let the line upon it.” He pointed again. “Do you see it? That was her boots—as she was dragged away.”

“Follow it!” Hiro said.

Haru sighed loudly. Hiro glanced at him quickly, saw that the young man’s eyes were rimmed with red. “Do not blame yourself,” he said.

“I allowed her to be taken!”

“No!” Hiro snarled. “And even if you did, it does not matter now.”

Haru looked at him, the surprise and outrage clear on his face. How could that not matter? And then as if in answer, Hiro said, “You must help us get her back.”

Swallowing thickly, Haru forced himself to not as he gripped the hilt of his katana more tightly. The blade was still covered in fresh blood. He glanced at it. He would put more blood on this blade before the day was over.

And they would get the girl back!

Still following the very subtle trail, Ujiro found himself at the pantry door. “It leads here.” He opened it and raised his staff as he pushed forward. The pantry was deep and lined with shelves. All manner of foods and herbs sat about the shelves. There were wine kegs, rolls of dough kept soft and moist. There were bulbs of garlic and thick green leaves in bundles. Among these things were grains and oils and other kinds of foods and ingredients.

The pantry was mostly dry, and a lantern hung from above, giving off a subtle glow. All was quiet, save for their footsteps upon the dry and flattened leaves spread across the floor from some shedding foodstuff.

“Where could they have gone?” Hiro said, the surprise in his voice evident to even his own ears.

“Look” Ujiro said, pointing his finger as he raised his staff. “It goes deeper.”

“Then we follow!” Haru said, his voice thick and angry.

“Mm,” Ujiro nodded.

“I’m…” Fuwafuwa began with a sniff. “I’m cold.”

They turned on the little yōkai. “Stay here,” Hiro said.

“No!” he snapped, though because his voice was so small and squeaky, he came across as much more adorable than he did intimidating. “I am coming.” He hopped up and down near Ujiro. “Let me up.”

“Mmm,” he growled, and put his hand out flat. If the little fur ball wanted to come along and ride harmlessly on Ujiro’s shoulder, he woud not be one to deny the little yōkai. He lifted his arm and Fuwafuwa perched atop his shoulder. His weight was very little and his fur tickled the samurai’s neck.

Hiro stepped forward as he held his blade forward. “I noticed something,” he said. “While we were fighting.”

“What is it?” Haru asked.

“My blade… it drags. My martial skills… It is like they are slipping.”

“It is not that,” Ujiro said tiredly. “It’s the drawstones.”

“What?” Haru asked.

“The drawstones. The Twin Cities have special stoned that draw magic. They prevent sorcery from gaining power within their area of influence. There are large temples and an entire order protecting the stones.”

“Ah,” Hiro said with a nod. “That explains it.” He turned and ventured deeper where there was a turn. Once they reached it, he saw immediately how Feng had escaped with Adrienne in his possession.

“They went down that hatch?” Haru asked.

“I think so,” Hiro said.

“They cannot have gotten very far,” Ujiro said. “We will catch Feng easily.”

“What about Lady Lanchiu?” Haru said. “She may still be in the house.”

“So?” Hiro asked. “Why do we care?”

“She may be in league with Feng.”

“Oh,” he said dumbly, as if the idea had just come to him. “Or,” he said, raising a finger, “She does not know about, any of this.”

Ujiro growled. “Now is not the time to wonder about these things. We go after Adrienne together. We are stronger as three.”

“Hai!” Haru said.

Nodding, Hiro said, “I will lead then.”

“After you, Muscle-sama.”

Hiro smirked. “You still owe me a drink old man.” He pointed, dragging his finger from Ujiro to Haru. “You both do.” Then he turned, and holding his massive katana broadsword in one hand, he went down the stepladder.