Chapter VII—“Onward, to glorious revenge!”

“Hmmnnngh!”

Rōkura nearly emptied her stomach for the third time, but she managed to hold it in. The incessant rocking and listing of the ship wasn’t helping.

“Ah,” Hans said brightly. “Ever must we weather our battles, Oni-san. How are you doing?”

Moaning pathetically, Rōkura tried not to glance around too much. The more she released the ship heaved, the more her stomach churned, and she was tired of retching her guts out. I don’t know how much more of this I can take? Battle Ken-sama was more enjoyable than this.

“Not in a talking mood, then? Well, I suppose you wouldn’t be. Perhaps now is as good a time as any to give you a more thorough rundown of your abilities, Rōkura.” He waited for her response, hopping she would entertain him. Hans was an excellent character in feigning an easy air, but like Rōkura, he didn’t much care for this journey. Though he had no need to empty his stomach, and would never have such a need.

Would that he had a sickness potion for her, but alas—it was not to be.

Stifling a moan, Rōkura forced herself to glance up to Hans’ bespectacled face. He was sitting on a crate, and between them a brazier crackled. The smoke was heady and it burned her nose, but there was no way to get away from it.

The dampness of the ship never left her, and the only way to maintain any semblance of a dry environment was to have the brazier constantly crackling, constantly drawing the moisture from the ship’s foul air.

Their patrician was enclosed by canvas tarps. They had beds and enough space to stow a few backs underneath. “Hans,” she said, a complaint on her lips. “Next time… book us passage on a nicer ship.”

“Why, normally I would,” he said with a shrug and a smile. “But I was impatient to be off.” He sighed long and heavily. “It’s for the best. I have no doubt we stirred up quite a fuss back in Momori Kazō. Best not to longer, don’t you think?”

“Ugh.”

“Now now,” Hans said, lifting a clean bucket. He thumped it into the tiny table between them and some droplets of water at the bottom reflected the yellow candlelight in their space.

Outside of their patrician, other passengers mumbled in conversation. Coughing erupted from here and there. A baby cried. Children played. The smell of sizzling meet reached Rōkura’s nose and she couldn’t decide between being hungry—famished in fact—or uninterested.

Wait…

Yes—definitely not interested!

She bent over the bucket and emptied her stomach into the container. “Oh gods. Ugh. Somebody help me.”

“Hmm…”

“Hans, I don’t know if I can take any more of this.”

“It’s not far now. We should be in the capital in a day’s time.”

She shook her head. “I… I can’t.”

With a subtle chortle, he said, “You must endure, Oni-san.”

“Hnngh!”

The cloying ticklishness in her throat and stomach was the worst. She wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. None.

“It’s funny—you can be sent to another world as an isekai and your stomach is just fine, but the moment we get on a boat, you hurl your guts out.”

Needing a distraction, Rōkura asked, “Hans—what world is this? In my vision… when we were at Fujiwarai’s estate. I heard men speaking. It sounded like they were planning to betray my father.”

“Hmm,” Hans mused. What to tell her? He studied Rōkura for a moment as she bent over, her hand atop her straight black hair and her horns moving ominously. Despite serving a horned oni god, Hans never truly got used to seeing them. Fascinating. “Some world or other—does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“I am uncertain how to tell you the answer.”

“Try.”

“Well, it is a world people here simple call Sokoku.”

“Sokoku,” Rōkura said. “Homeland?”

“Just so, little Oni-san.”

“Fine. Where is my world?” She looked up at him, waited for an explanation, but the face he made was on exasperation and mild amusement. “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “Do I like look a god to you? Perhaps you should speak with Ogai-sama on this matter.”

“Uugh,” she moaned. “Hans. Distract me. Please.”

Chortling, he tapped her shoulder, then slid the bucket to the other end of the table. “It is time I told you more about your abilities.”

“Mmmm,” he moaned pathetically, sat back, and laid down upon her mattress. “All right.” Rōkura put the back of her hand on her forehead just below where her horns protruded, and closed her eyes as she took long, slow breathes—a think Hans had told her to two a day prior. It worked. A little bit.

Not really.

But it was distracting.

Leaning over her, Hans told her to move her hand. As she obeyed her supporter, he touched her head, and staring at the luminescent drop of magic he seemed to pull out of her forehead, she watched as Hans’ narrow cat-like eyes, sly and knowing, look over what was inside of her.

“Hmm,” he noised with amusement and deep thought as he turned, studying her. Rōkura didn’t move, but she watched him with her eyes. “What did Ogai-sama tell you about your abilities?”

“He told me…” She swallowed, feeling the sickly lump in her throat. She wanted to some water, but no matter how much she drank, the burning in the back of her throat at the sower taste wouldn’t go away. “He told me about my Rage stat and my Overpowered ability.”

“Ah, and did he tell you of the Fatigue debuff that falls over you afterward?”

“He might have mentioned that.” She closed her eyes. “I’ve experienced it enough Hans to know about it.”

“Yes well,” he said. “It helps to be thorough.” The second part he said with great amusement, but Rōkura wasn’t sure why he thought it was funny. “And clearly you know of your Blink ability and Kinetic Magic. I saw you use the latter upon Fujiwarai.”

Rōkura said nothing. She didn’t want to be reminded of that night at the Administrator’s estate when she had…

She pushed those thoughts from her mind. “Just tell me about my abilities, Hans. Enough about that night.”

“Oh… all right.” He looked at the magic, remembering Ogai’s quick explanations that came off more as an excited rant pressed for time. He delved deeper into her stats, and saw the No Dice ability. Now that is interesting.

And like she was reading his mind, the oni said, “Ogai-sama mentioned something about an ability called No Dice.”

“Indeed,” said Hans. “An exceedingly rare ability—you have a few of those, it seems.”

She snorted, thinking about her Persistent Bad Luck.

“Now, now,” he added. “Persistent Bad Luck isn’t as horrible as all that.”

“You try having it.”

“I have high luck stats myself, Oni-san. Surely that offsets your… lack.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. Actually, your luck is just fine,” he said, looking at it. “In fact, I would say your luck is a little higher than average.”

She would have snorted again, but images of her dead parents flickered into her mind, and all mirth was quickly extinguished. Rōkura said nothing.

“I know it may not seem that way, but where your Persistent Bad Luck gets in the way, it would appear that you have no luck at all, but it simply isn’t true.”

“All right,” she said.

“The No Dice?”

She nodded. “Mhm.”

“Well, as I said—“

“Yes, an ‘exceedingly rare ability—m’yeah?’” she mocked, sounded like him, or rather, a facsimile attempt of what Hans knew he sounded like.

With a frown, he said, “Indeed. Now there are positive sides and negative ones to the No Dice stat.”

Finding the strength, she sat up and leaned her body against the wooden backrest of her bed. Everything swayed to the left and right, up and down. The waves must have been very choppy—or was it that she was simply dizzy and sick?

“Whenever anyone does an action,” Hans said, “weather that is with a sword or trying to get a sense of where a person is located when you can’t see them, our inner focal point connected the the Gaia of the universe, plays a role. This is where skill and luck come into it. When we do something, we never do it the exact same way twice. Sometimes we do well, other times not so well. We call this our Dice Roll.”

Her eyes widened as she started realizing why Ogai-sama had marveled at her No Dice stat. She swallowed against that lump in her throat, her anticipation of Hans’ explanation increasing. “Go on…”

“Without a dice roll, you simply perform an action at your skill level. Where you excel, you perform actions at the highest level they can be without inadvertent negative effects.”

She frowned. “Except where Luck is involved.”

“It has a hand to play in everything.”

“Does that not negate No Dice, then?”

“Not exactly, since Luck is completely separate.”

“What about the my dice when Luck is involved?”

“Unaffected,” he said.

She felt confused. “So…”

“Let me put it this way,” Hans said. “When you strike with your sword, you do the most amount of damage possible, because you have no Dice Role affected to your Gaia core.”

“That’s good.”

“Very.”

“What about when I try to use my Sneak skills?”

“You are very low in that category I’m afraid…” That hung in the air for a moment as she rolled her eyes. “You will invariable do badly, but not to worry, since Luck can—“

She slumped back down in the bed.

“You must play to your strengths,” he said.

“Why didn’t Kenshi realize I was there in the manner house? At once point I was mere paces from him. I could see his shadow on the shoji!”

“Well, if he pushed out with his aura in an attempt to Perceive hidden foes around him, you would have likely been caught. Assuming this Kenshi was high enough in skill to actually detect your abysmal stealth abilities.”

Kenshi.

There was a memory there of him. Rōkura knew it was a memory of a time when she was in her Oni Rage state. It was short, a blur of pulsing rage, but she remembered his body flying through the air. I know that was me but… Whether he is alive or dead, I have no idea. But if I killed Fujiwarai the way I remember it, then he’s likely dead too.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Her eyes snapped back to focus and Rōkura shook her head.

“Good, because I have on last thing to tell you about No Dice.”

“What is it?”

“Your grown, is Static.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not. Growing is a tough nut for you to crack.”

“It’s a nut?”

“What I mean to say, Oni-san, is that growing and increasing your skills, will be like slogging through an uphill battle during a mudslide… whilst you wear training weights upon your ankles.”

“Great.”

“Not to worry. Your Oni Rage and Overpowered abilities are—“

“I’m not going to rely on those.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Chortling, a sudden worry came over Hans. “Rōkura-san… without them, do not misunderstand me. You are powerful—but you are not that powerful.”

“I don’t care,” she said firmly, resolved. The lump in her throat and the roiling in her stomach was completely forgotten as she sat up to look the sly little supporter in the eyes. “Hans—when I go into a Rage, I’m not aware of what I’m doing. I rampage about without any thought or compunctions for the moral repercussions. It’s mindless rage and hate.”

“Which is why,” he said slowly, “you cannot be blamed for such a state.”

Her mouth almost hung open.

“Indeed,” he continued. “There is no thought involved—no premeditation. Oni Rage is pure, unbridled rage, Rōkura. It is beautiful!”

The roiling in her stomach increased and she suddenly had the urge to retch. Snatching the bucket, she emptied her stomach atop what was already in there. It was disgusting, so much so that it almost made her want to keep retching for that fact alone.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, her face a cringing mess of extreme distaste and disgust. She pushed the bucket away. “Take… take it. Please.”

“Very well,” said Hans. “He picked up the bucket and tossed the contents out on the deck just outside their room.”

She frowned, whipped her gaze back to Hans with the back of her hand pushed to her face. “What-are-you-doing, Hans?!”

He looked at her intently. “I am having a conversation with my stupid oni master.”

What was going on? Was she in a fever dream—because she knew there was no way Hans was acting this way. Not like this. “What did you just call me?”

“You heard, me, Rōkura.”

She couldn’t understand why that enraged her so much. It was a mild insult, and yet, something inside her rejected that so strongly, she wanted to throw it in Hans’ face and scream at him, to claim his insolence and—

Rōkura leaned across the table and backhanded Hans in the face. “Shut up—commoner!”

Eyes flicking with surprise, he smiled. “Yes, Rōkura. Just like that!” He spread his arms exultantly. “This is your true self—where your real power lies. It’s in your blood—in your very bones.” The smile upon his face was toothy and malicious. “You god killer!”

A knife of apprehension sliced across her heart, which started beating from the evil little prod that Hans just stabbed into her. Why do I feel so dizzy? “God… God killer?”

Oopsy—I wasn’t supposed to say that part. Knowing that Ogai-sama would be very displeased with Hans for babbling her secret, especially while others could have potentially heard, he attempted to backtrack. “I am saying, Rōkura that you have the power to slay gods. Not really, but your strength… it is something to behold. Use it!”

Breathing in deeply, she had to take a moment to process everything. Hans had called her “god killer” and while those words we flung from his mouth, the look in his eyes. It was the look of lust and and greed and malicious ill will. The same look she had seen on the faces of other men and women. You can’t take it back anymore. But she said nothing. Instead, the oni reached up to touch her forehead and she moaned.

“Do you have any more potions?” she said weakly.

“I’m afraid that I only have—“

Someone was screaming, but Rōkura could hardly hear it. In fact, many people were screaming above decks as the ship listed. It listed, like it had for days, to and fro—but this time it listed a lot and Hans scrabbled back to keep from sliding off his bed while Rōkura glanced about with sudden terror. She rolled into the backrest of her bed, the wood thumping against her backbones.

“Ha!—Hans!”

People shouted in alarm from every quarter of the passenger deck, and as the ship continued its list, they began to scream. Oh no!

“Rōkura! RŌKURA—HOLD ONTO SOMETHING!”

Hans’ bed tumbled into the table, which slid across the deck and slammed into Rōkura’s bed. She screamed, her voice drowned out among the other passengers as anything not part of the ship, started falling across the deck.

There was a rumble and a creaking that seemed to travel through the ship, and then the sound of cracking wood as everything shook.

“We are landing aground!” screamed Hans. “Hang on!”

The water pushed passed them, filling up the entire space. It filled their cabin and bubbled up all around Rōkura. For a moment she was completely submerged.

Jumping, she swam for the surface, realizing it was far higher than a simple leak would have case to force upon them.

With a gasp, she surfaced—screamed, “HAAANNNNSSSSS!”

It was dark.

Water roiled.

People kicked and moaned and cried.

Everyone shrieked.

“No!—Nononono!—OH NO!” She thrashed to stay afloat. “HANS! HANS?! HAAANNS!!!”

In the dark and roiling space, someone surfaced beside her. “UwaAH!”

“Hans!” she grabbed him by the arm as he coughed and chocked. “Rō—Rōkura!”

“Stay with me!”

Despite her luminous Celestial Eyes, Rōkura was having trouble seeing in the pitch black dark of the roiling water.

“Oh no!” someone screamed. “Help! Hellllllppp!”

“Momma!”

“Here!

“Swim!”

There were too many voices to distinguish who said what as Rōkura’s reached up to grab hold of something, but what her hand thumped against was… the floor. Breathing hard, she kicked her legs to stay afloat.

“Hans?”

“I’m here!”

“I can’t see anything!”

“Hold on to me—I can see. I can see.” He sucked in a deep lungful of air and went under water.

“What are you doing?”

She glanced about, the horror of the dark and the cries and the screams all around her. Hans surfaced with a gasp.

“I found a way out!”

“Hans!”

“Come!” he called. “Come!”

He pulled away from her and she held onto him, allowing him to guide her. Someone screamed and grabbed her by the horn. She yanked her head to get away, but the man’s panicked grip was firm.

“HELP”

“Let go!”

“HELP ME!!!” He pulled, and her head was jerked down, her neck spasmed and her face went under the water. Bubbles exploded out of her mouth and all around her as she reached up and grabbed the hand on her horn and with her sharp nails, tore across the soft flesh.

Bubbles exploded all around her as she let go of Hans to keep from dragging him down and she kicked back up to the surface, screaming underneath the water.

Something grabbed at her hand and she recoiled from the silhouetted figure above her, that snatched and grabbed at her.

Rōkura realized that figure was none other than Hans himself, and she reached up, whereupon he took her by the arm and swam up. She kicked her legs and allowed him to guide her back to the almost lights surface of the bubbling water as the ship cracked and groaned. All around them thumps and bumps sounded dully under the water.

She surfaced with a gasp and kicked her feet, breathing in and out for air among the dozens of other people crying and screaming. Some few shouted orders, or commanded for calm, but there was no use.

Suddenly a bright light appeared further down the deck. “Here!” a voice called. “Here! I have light!”

Everyone screamed in panicked joy, that light their salvation.

“Rōkura!” gasped Hans. “Look!”

“I”—she kicked against the current inside the boat—“I see it!”

“Come on!” he shouted, swimming toward it in the sea of thrashing people. Some of them weren’t moving. Most were on the surface, but many were underneath the water, their bodies still, their crashing come to an end.

A baby cried.

“My baby!’ a woman screamed. “Someone help me!”

Rōkura gasped as she instinctually shipped her head in that direction. In the dark pocket of wood and debris floating everywhere, it was impossible to see. There was garbage; wooden casks, clothes, pieces of canvas. Dirt and floating straw.

Bodies.

“Help her!” someone called through the morass and the ruckus of shouting people. It was hard to distinguish any of the voices, including that of the baby crying, as the voices and the shouting made everything a jumbled mess of panic and anger and manifested fear that resulted in tangled limbs and accidental drowning.

“Hans!” cried Rōkura. “Hans!”

“I’m here,” he said, pulled forward as he kicked his legs. More than once his licking resulted in her taking a blow to the hip.

“Agh!’

“I’m sorry.”

“Watch out—“

Something hit the side of her head. It was a cask. She pushed it away, snarling frustrated as she swam with Hans. The ship groaned and heaved, listing slightly.

“Are we run ground?” cried a voice.

“Have we shipwrecked?”

“No—we’re sinking! Swim! Swim for your—agh!”

“Shut your mouth!”

“There’s a way out! Here!”

My heart soared as hope dwindled like a crack in the ceiling of a dark room that was my mental state. As powerful as I was, I could still drown, and probably as easily as the next person.

“Hans!”

“I see it!” he said. “Come!” He kicked. “Rōkura.”

“LIGHT!”

It was a man.

“Liiiight!”

“I see it—move!”

“I can’t reach… it!”

“Oh! Please hurry!”

The baby cried.

Everyone moaned and shouted and pushed, hoping they could be the first to escape as they swam and scrabbled through the floating debris.

Another crack sounded, and Rōkura heard it reverberate through the wooden hull all around them, but especially above as ringlets of reflected light from the water bounced and shimmers across the dark wet boards.

“You—with the light!” called “Hans.”

“Yes?”

As he pushed away the floating garbage and saw the other survivors floating and swimming, many of which held onto the mast of the ship that protruded through the decks, she saw fearful faces and soaking wet heads.

The woman with the baby held her child to her breast with one arm as she was supported by a man with his legs wrapped around the mast, his shoulders turned and his arm outstretched to support her so she didn’t sink.

There were others there, surrounding her, shielding her, and though Rōkura’s fear of dying in the passenger hold didn’t leave her, relief still touched her heart.

The oni smiled.

“Well done,” said Hans as he glanced up into the recesses of the ship’s hull, which, by Rōkura’s understanding, was the ship’s bilge. The compartment was large and deep enough for men to have gone down there when the ship was properly afloat so that they could pump it when leaks sprang.

“But how do we get up!” someone asked. “We’re stuck!”

Water fell in a torrent, both in a steady stream and in thick droplets. Weather that was from water inside the bilge pouring back down, or because the massive crack leading out of the ship into the open air was collecting rainwater, Rōkura didn’t know.

“Well,” said Hans thoughtfully. “I believe I can break a hole though that crack to widen it.” Rōkura thought he was speaking to himself, and indeed, he was. Hans had no intention of helping these people get out of the ship safely.

For Rōkura’s part, that was another matter entirely. “I can do it, Hans.”

“Oh?” he asked, smiling inwardly. Then you must hurry. I sense a great beast approaching. Indeed, the creature had already been to and among the ship, and those of the crew knew.

Or had known.

Now they were probably dead.

And it is returning.

“Hey!” a man accused. “How do you think… You’re just…” He seemed to notice what Rōkura was and gasped, his eyes going to her horns and his stare lingering on her luminous aqua-blue eyes. “I… I’m sorry.”

He clearly wasn’t a local man.

Rōkura frowned and let go of Hans. While she swam to keep herself afloat, tasting the salted sea water in her mouth, she told everyone to keep back. Then once it was clear, Rōkura sank down under the water, allowing the light of the man’s’ crystal to guide her.

Feet touching down to the bottom, she squatted, then jumped out of the water with extreme force, assisted by her high level. The water all around her burst up with her as she shot toward that crack.

She extended her arm, and her hand went through the planks. She grasped the other side and swung her hips so that her bare feet touched down on the wood while she hung there.

It was a very awkward position.

Rōkura let her feet fall as she grasped onto the each side of the wedge and pulled. With a loud grunt that she thought sounded like she was giving birth, the wood parted somewhat, but not enough.

She let go and crash into the water below.

“I knew she wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“Hush!”

“Watch your mouth around that demon.”

“All of you,” Hans said, glancing about. “Be silent.” Then he turned to Rōkura. “Let me try, Oni-san.”

She nodded, her shame of failure smarting.

“I believe I can manage it,” Hans continued. Or else, that creature would cover the ship. Or worse, drag it back out to sea, down to the depths.

There were two reasons Hans Bellefeuille did not mention the beast. The first being, that he did not want to set about an even worse panic. That would hinder he and Rōkura’s escape. But secondly, if she refused to use her Oni Rage state, then Hans would find a way to force it upon her. The girl must accept what she is. That his fortunate turn of events happened upon us feels, and so soon… Why, one might say it was divine intervention,

He smiled like a self-satisfied cat as he swam to the side of the hull, pushed off with his feet toward the interior wall behind them. He moved with such speed and agility, that he was able to kick off the wall and thrust his body up into an angled ascent.

Rōkura gasped with aw at his ability to simply jump through the water and off the wall as support.

“FIST OF THE GODS!” cried Hans.

Before reaching the cracked hull, his fist glowed with magical energy, leaving golden streamers in its wake, the light illuminating from the front of his fist casting the interior of the passenger hold in bright light and backlighting Hans so that he appeared as a silhouetted figure of mystery.

There was a thunderous crack and the hull planks burst forth a rumble and a shake that made the water under Rōkura’s cheek tremble.

The planks flew into the air, outward into the sky of roiling black clouds. Lighting flashed and lit the water broken up by thick and incessant raindrops.

Everyone cheered, their faces upturned into smiled of hope and joy, their eyes bright, including that of the oni girl’s. She could get out easily—and indeed, Hans was already swimming to chore, the people in the hold forgotten.

But Rōkura would not leave them there. She wondered why Hans hadn’t returned immediately, and deciding not to wait, she said, “We need to find a way out of the hold.”

“Yes!” said the man with the crystal. He took hold of a jutting piece of wood and jumped out of the hold with high-level ability.

Rōkura watched as the people gasped and pleaded, their terror returned as the ship listed and rocked, but the oni suspected it was only the waves.

Shivering, she glanced up into the sky, squinting into the rain and the clouds and the lightening as the storm raged. The survivors shouted pleas, the baby cried and the woman begged with her husband to save their child.

Turning to them, Rōkura put out her hand. “Do not be afraid. I will make sure you get out of the ship.”

They looked at her and swallowed, their eyes wide, but despite recoiling initially, they both shared a glance and nodded. She went to the protruding piece of hull and used that to launch herself up and out.

As she landed on the hull planks, she grunted, wincing with the pain of the barnacles slicing her feet like meat on a cook’s counter. “Agh!”

“Here!” a man called.

Squinting through the rain as her hair plastered to her face and neck, she saw the man with the crystal. He was holding something in his hand. A piece of rigging? That would do—if it has rope on it. She caught sight of Hans milling about on the beach near some palm trees. “Tch! Hans! Hans!”

He couldn’t hear her.

Pushing off of the hull and her feet taking another brunt of damage, she landed in the water. Rōkura glanced to her left and right and saw the large jagged rocks, the rocks that had cracked the ship, perhaps.

She met the man on the beach as he tried to untangle the rope from the rigging with one hand, unwilling to part with his crystal for even a moment. Rōkura assisted him, using her strength to snap the wooden rigging and untangle the rope.

With it, the stronger survivors could crawl out of the boat, and the weaker ones could be lifted after they secured some kind of pulley system.

Thunder cracked overhead, and she wondered if all the crew were dead.

From the beach, Hans sat down under a frond and watched as Rōkura assisted the man with the crystal. They fussed and worked, and called to each other, and Hans didn’t move a finger. I am no adventurer—not anymore. I couldn’t care one whit about these people. And besides…

He smiled villainously. It approaches.

Rōkura lowered the last survivor down from the razor sharp barnacled hull one arm length at a time until the fellow with the crystal that he now kept in his pocket, put out his arms to catch her.

All the while as she the others worked, she had cast glanced toward Hans, but he made himself scarce, and in the last few minutes had expanded outward with his magical aura to lure the creature.

Feeling disappointed that it didn’t make an appearance, he stepped out of the brush, confident that Rōkura had not sensed his aura. If she had, she would suspect something, because she knew that he would not be so careless with his power as to draw enemies nearby on accident.

Standing atop the hull, Rōkura’s feet had bleed and spilled blood, hot and irony to the smell. It practically wafted into her nostrils. The only reason why she still had feet was because she had brought up planks and canvas from inside the ship to lay out over the hull of the ship.

But still, her feet bleed. Normally, it was something that might worry her—the condition of her feet, but she had exceptional healing abilities.

Breathing heavily, she made a sound of frustration. “Tch!” Hans—you disappeared.

Rōkura was about to jump down into the water when she sensed something behind her. Just as she began to turn, something hit her in the back, and by chance that she caught what it was out of the corner of her eye, she glanced down at the protruding… thing sticking out of her stomach.

The pain felt like, she had been hit with a stick—not all together unbearable. Instinctually she reached down as panic began to take her, but she came up short of grabbing onto the bony spine-covered spear-tip.

Her eyes flicked up in search of Hans as her heart spasmed with fear. She tried to speak, but her vision shook and reddened, the blackness coming in on the sides like she was…

Like she was going into her Rage state!

What is happening? How can this be?

Glancing down in panic as the tendril began to writhe, threatening to lift her off her feet, the hot anger and rage poured into her and she howled at the sky.

Hans hid himself from Rōkura’s eyes, though he had seen what happened. The beast—it had pierced her through. Breathing hard, he reached up and put a hand on his chest, told himself to calm down. It’s all part of the plan, but Hans, you do play fast and loose. He laughed. Indeed, you do!

Rōkura grunted as her feet were lifted off the hull of the ship. The sky shook and tumbled and over and when suddenly Rōkura was hit in the back. Her world was submerged underwater as she writhed with her arms and legs, the pain in her back and stomach so complete, she felt it in her entire torso—in her hips and in her legs.

And she didn’t care.

Under the dark waters, she screamed her rage, grabbed the boney tendril sticking out of her stomach and yanked it forward. It wriggled, shaking and dragged her into the depths. As soon as that tendril softened, she tore it in held.

It spasmed and recoiled.

What followed, was the sound of something that would have put ice in her veins, that would have made her shiver with bone curdling fear.

Like a horn under the water, deep and throaty, and ponderous, yet full of anger and hunger.

The presence retreated before Rōkura could get a good look. Whatever it had been, it was massive and white in color. It receded, moving in a trusting, pulsing manner.

The oni howled with rage underneath the water, unable to rip and tear and to destroy. But deep in her mind, she knew of unsuspecting survivors, of the sound of their pumping hearts, their flowing blood.

Their pathetic existence filled her with rage.

She wanted to put her hands on them.

Around their throats.

And squeeze—to rip them limb from—

NO!

She grabbed the sides of her head and screamed, thrashing about underneath the water.

I have to…

Get away!

Rōkura—for she was still Rōkura, even now, swam to the surface. Once she broke the water, she gasped for breath and snarled, fighting the urge to swim toward the shore where those survivors were and—

“NO!” she howled. “NnnnGAh!!!”

Lurching in the other direction, she swam to the shore, and turning with bloodshot eyes that throbbed, where every part of her told Rōkura to kill anything and everything she saw, it was as if she were present within another’s body, that primal rage and need to kill—to rip and drink blood, plagued her simply for being present.

Rōkura slashed at the air and kicked at the dirt in frustration. As she bent to dig like a dog, she threw vast quantities of sand behind her. “Uuuunnnggghh!”

Standing upright again took extreme effort.

Thrashing, she forced herself to turn, whereupon she snarled and ran into the tree line, slashing at one of the palm trees that got into her way.

Lighting dared to cracked in the sky—in her presence.

She howled at it, unable to reach it.

With frustration she howled., fled into the trees, where every step she took she inhaled deeply and raggedly, her snarling and slicing of the air unstoppable.

Something stopped her, forced her into the ground.

Rōkura’s face hit the wet grass.

“GrrrraaaahhH!!!”

Tuirning, she grabbed the fool and lifted him, slammed him into the gorund.

No.

It wasn’t a him.

It was…

A rock!

She cracked it in half, flung it aside and screamed, clawing inward with her nails, scratching her palms and writing on the grass.

Something screamed, but not her.

It was…

A thing in the trees.

With a lurch of her muscle and an arching of her back, Rōkura came back to her feet, turned and howled, running after the coward.

It ran, squealing and darting in different directions, underneath brush and through thorns, between trees.

She ripped her sword out of its scabbard and blinked forward, cutting off the stupid fool from his cowardly retreat.

How dare he exist!

She slices down with her blade, the steal connecting satisfyingly with flesh as muscle was cleaved and hot blood spurted.

As well as her ability to spell the blood, her heightened senses and her extreme hunger gave her the ability to hear the blood.

The oni in her state, could hear the drop of a drip of blood from a dozen paces away. With the fool dead, she ripped it to pieces, drank his blood.

Feasted!

“YOU ARE MIIINNNNEEEE!”

His heart no longer beating, the oni grasped her katana in both hands and hacked the man to a thousand pieces in the grass until her anger and her rage was utterly spent.

Bored with the kill, she moved off, walking and stumbling, her vision shaking and throbbing, bouts of anger causing her to snarl at nothing and everything.

“I must…” she screamed, fell to her knees and hugged the tree in front of her as her katana fell into the grass.

There she breathed, in and out, as fast as the wind flew the fronds of the trees while the storm rumbled and cracked overhead, while the skies were lit with destructive energy.

Rōkura stayed like that, until the her rage subsided, until she was in full control again. The salty iron taste of blood lingered on her tongue and her hands were covered in wet blood as she kneeled in the rain.

“Hnnnnnghh,” she moaned, both in desperation, but also in residual frustration.

She didn’t know when, buy Rōkura lost consciousness as the Fatigue she now knew so well after a rage-filled rampage, took her.

The wild board had provided an excellent distraction, or rather, that’s what the oni would think once she awoke, dazed and confused, and yet remembering most of her time spent in ungodly tantrum through the forest.

Huddling under a bush with some of the survivors, one of them—the woman with the baby, had offered Hans part of her cloak. It was wet and sodden, and the baby cried incessantly, making Hans’ ears nearly split with grief.

And yet he was thankful to have a wet and sodden cloak around his shoulders as he shared heat with the husband and wife leaning up against the base of a palm tree. It was a miserable night, and Hans couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Rōkura had run into the forest in a blood fueled rage.

Glancing up into the storm clouds above, he said, “What a miserable night this is! I will see you tomorrow, Rōkura!” The sly golden-haired laughed. “Onward to glorious revenge!”