Chapter XXXI—The Oni Returns

The sun had gone down almost an hour ago and the lantern lit streets of Shihon were bright and inviting. At least they were in this section of the city, Rōkura mused. They hadn’t been here but a little over a week and she had already seen the worst slums in her life.

The city was massive. On one street high-rise machiya dwellings loomed over the ambling hills and roads and small corner shops and businesses set deep into the street-level structures, and on the next street opulent wealth protected by guards and where silken pinions fluttered in the breeze would be.

She still marveled about that, and likewise, Rōkura had found herself in rich neighborhoods only to suddenly find herself in the poorest areas where fat infested warrens stinking of piss and garbage awaited her.

Not great for someone who liked going barefoot.

Still, her regenerative abilities probably fought off disease quite well. Right? I should ask Hans about that.

She almost got lost coming back, but then she recognized the surrounding area. The street loomed ahead of her, undulating over the hills. On both sides planters with ornamental trees that were clipped and trimmed to perfection lined the street and where stone steps from the town houses met the cobblestones with perfect regularity.

Their townhouse, or machiya they were called, was at the cull de sac on the left. The stone base provided a good strong support for the big wooden house.

The porch was strung with white and red lanterns and it was well lit. She swallowed with apprehension. Rōkura had gone back to look for her sword, but upon searching, she couldn’t find it—and she had looked for a long time!

That was why it was dark.

“If you find yourself out on your own—which I must say, Rōkura,” Hans had told her, “please come back before nightfall. This city is wonderful and majestic and full of opportunity—good people even, but the worst scum you will find skulking in nearby allies as well.”

She had snorted at that. Like “the worst scum” could bother her.

Even so, she didn’t want to upset her supporter. Hans had a way about carrying a situation with his intelligence and skill. That, and he was well connected with Ogai-sama, though the oni didn’t know the last time he had had contact with their patron deity.

She walked up the steps, her stomach growling like a beast had found its way inside her and curled up in her stomach, angry for something to eat. Gods, she could eat half a cow on her own right now.

Trying the door, she found it locked.

So she knocked.

And knocked again.

“Who goes there?” asked Hans from the other side, his muffled voice a call rather than a raised voice.

“It’s me—open up.”

There was a pause, then the door lock clicked loudly and Hans pulled the large door open with a squeak of hinges. It was one of those gaijin-style doors.

“More secure,” Hans said. He had secured this house years ago with funds provided by Ogai-sama.

“It’s you,” he said, sounding surprised.

She nodded. “Mhm!”

She stepped passed him and shivered a little. The night was warm, but even so, the house was warmer, and it did get a little bit chilly in the evenings, especially when you didn’t wear that many clothes.

“Where have you been?” he asked from behind.

She went to the kitchens, sniffing her way to the food. There was a veritable feast. Baked poultry, potatoes that had been mashed with milk—so strange—and some steamed vegetables and crunchy soft bread.

Rōkura’s arms moved almost of their own accord as she began stuffing her face.

“I asked you where you’ve been, Rōkura-san?”

She turned, mumbled something unintelligible and Hans rolled his eyes. “Wrsh Shinjoh-joh?”

Hans sighed, fully aware of what she was asking. “The steel swinger went out.”

She frowned.

Hans shrugged. “I am not you two’s father, I don’t ask—“

Rōkura raised her eyebrows with incredulity.

“No—that is different,” Hans argued with a finger pointed up toward the ceiling. “We have a lot of work to do, and you are a highly valued member of Ogai-sama’s children.”

She swallowed a huge mouthful and the food… didn’t go down. Her eyes widened. Oh no—not now!

Hans reached over and poured her a cup of water. Rokura gestured impatiently for it. “Yes, yes,” he said. “Here it is.”

She snatched it out of his hand and gulped it down. The pain that she felt. It felt like—“Hnngh!”—she hit her chest—like she had swallowed a rock too large for her throat.

It finally squeezed down and she gasped.

“Slow down!” insisted Hans. “You have enough bad luck as it is.”

Oh shit, that’s right. I have to tell him.

”I killed Sir Alaric.”

His eyes widened. “You did what, Rōkura?”

“I killed Sir Alaric,” she repeated. “I went the whorehouse and I asked around, found some things out. And I ambushed him.”

“Without backup? What were you thinking? Me or Shinjiro—“

She interrupted him by shaking her head and putting up a finger. Hans rolled his eyes. “Now you are acting like me.” He grabbed her finger and slapped it down. “Stop that.”

She smiled.

“Listen, Hans. It’s my revenge—not yours.”

“Tch!” he noised frustratedly and slapped his thigh. “All well and good, but Sir Alaric was was Ogai’s, remember?”

She nodded. “But he’s closely associated with the others… or, he was.” She sniffed with amusement. “Now he’s dead.”

Hans blinked his sea-blue eyes in astonishment. This girl… He was surprised and a little bit shocked at her behavior, at her ease by which she told him of what she did. She was laughing about it!

This is worrisome to be sure.

“Even so—” Hans persisted.

“Oh Hans!” she cried. “Stop worrying about me. She went to the cool box and brought out some milk. She drank it directly from the ceramic jug.”

“You should not drink from the ceramic, Rōkura, other people might want—“

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Are you afraid you’re going to catch some disease, Hans?”

He looked at her, trying to convey that he thought that she just might. “Good gods—you have become a willful, difficult slob.”

Rōkura laughed. She was a hundred times stronger than Hans and Shinjiro combined—she could do whatever she wanted. Having either of them around when she needed to kill people, to annoy her with their ideas of how things needed to be done, wasn’t something she needed.

Not for this.

Hans gaze traveled down her, over her breasts and to her waist. What is he staring at? Hans, don’t tell me you—

She realized he wasn’t ogling her, he was inspecting her, and quite thoroughly, it seemed. His face fell and her thought was cut off as his eyes become heavy-lidded. “Rōkura!”

Here it comes. “Yes?” she asked demurely.

“Where is your sword? Where is Kirai?”

“Uh… right. Hans, about that—“

“Tell me now.”

“It fell.”

“It fell?” he asked pointedly. “Where, down the chamber pot—what do you mean ‘it fell,’ Rōkura?”

She might be powerful, but the way Hans was looking at her right now scared Rōkura. Not because she thought Ogai-sama would come raining down with fire and brimstone upon her to torture her, but…

She didn’t really know why, but her resolve and arrogance melted and she hunched in on herself. “It was my bad luck, okay?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Rōkura!”

“It’s not my fault!”

The front door opened and they both turned.

“Shinjiro!” Hans called.

“What is wrong?”

He came into the kitchen.

“What makes you think something is wrong?” asked Rōkura.

The house was dark, but the moon which was rising just perfectly as to be seen through the parting structures in this part of the city, shined in upon them, lighting the samurai’s face.

Surrounding them on the table and up high were yellow tapers and lanterns providing a soft glow.

“Something is always wrong,” said Shinjiro, and his face was dour. “He set some bags down on the large table.”

Hans pinched the flesh between his eyebrows with frustration. He never thought he would be a father, much less the father of a teenager girl who seemed, evidentially, to have some problems with teamwork and authority.

But here he was.

Shinjiro waited for Hans to speak as he sensed something heavy about to drop. He tried not to do it, but his eyes flicked over to Rōkura, who was a picture of guilt. He said nothing.

“Rōkura, it seems,” said Hans tiredly, “has seen fit to off Sir Alaric on her own.”

Shinjiro raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” Despite keeping his calm, he was alarmed. He wanted to speak to Hans about that before… well before she killed him, and in her presence, but now it was too late.

They knew close to nothing about Sir Alaric, and now he was dead. Could she truly kill so easily? The samurai in some lands might have gone about with arrogance on their shoulders, ready to duel just about anyone who looked at them wrong, and indeed, parts of Kawashira were like that, but not Momori Kazō—and by extension, not Shinjiro.

His honor would not allow him to kill without good reason.

And yet…

He had abandoned Daimyō Hino.

What did that say about him.

Shinjiro kept his silence, waiting to see how this conversation would develop. It was clear that Rōkura would not obey or choose the right path because of their anger or disappointment with her.

She was…

A wild child.

But she was no child.

Rōkura is a woman.

“And?” asked Rōkura defensively. “It’s not like I needed either of you.”

Shinjiro shared a glance with Hans.

“And she lost Kirai.”

He glanced toward her waist, annoyingly aware of her deep cleavage. He smiled. “I see you still have your wakizashi I got you.”

She nodded with a smile. “Mm!”

Hans clicked his tongue as Rōkura reached about, still stuffing her face, though ore slowly now. “That not the point. Kirai is a priceless artifact—a gift from Ogai-sama. The blade has magical properties.”

“So you have said,” drawled Rōkura.

Hans was positively beside himself with surprise. “It eats the magical energy of your opponents and becomes stronger. The sword is—“

“We’ll keep an eye out for the sword,” interrupted Shinjiro. He was less interested about the sword, and more concerned about Rōkura herself. What was she thinking?

She could see it on his features, his concern. His disapproval. “What?” she asked Shinjiro, feeling a little annoyed.

He raised his hands. “I was just wondering if you did any poking around to find out about Sir Alaric before you…”

“Before I cut his head off?”

He paused, then nodded.

She smirked, feeling quite good about herself in this regard. “I did, actually. I found out some pretty harrowing things about it. Killing him was no trouble at all.”

Shinjiro nodded, then left the kitchen.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I’ve been walking all day,” he said over his shoulder. “I want to sit.”

Hans looked at her and then he jerked his head. Rōkura quickly grabbed as much food as she can, going mostly for the baked bird, though it was a little dry.

They sat down on the furniture in the living room. Rōkura took up a large chair, sitting atop her folded leg. Shinjiro was on his back atop the tatami mats. He glanced at Rōkura’s filthy feet with a displeased look on his face.

Glancing toward the little inset area where the door was, she noticed his sandals were there. He never walked inside with them on.

Hans sat on the sofa, his posture not one of relaxation in the slightest. No wonder he was so stressed.

The way she runs about, killing when she decides to kill, upending my plans when she doesn’t like them, and this recent turn of events—going out without telling me, is so stressful.

The thing was, Hans had a need to control a situation—and he was good at it. He liked plans, he liked to know the potential outcomes, the backup plans, the exit strategies.

Rōkura…

Well she didn’t.

The oni girl was spontaneous—something Hans was not. Shinjiro was thoughtful, slow to act often, careful and perceptive. He got along with Hans well in that regard.

“Now,” Hans finally said. “You mentioned your bad luck. Losing the sword… is that all that happened?”

Shinjiro sat up, worried.

She thought it would be best to just say it, like a crusty bandage, just take it off quickly before it become a problem by slowly pealing it away with the scab. Not that she really got scabs anymore.

“I fell off a gantry and I got tangled in some nets.”

Hans nodded.

Is he all right? “I was kind of high up…”

Something like a groan came out of Hans. Shinjiro glanced toward him, his own worry getting the better of him. Rōkura could see it in his eyes.

“Ugh! Would you two stop. My parents are dead.”

“We’re not your fathers,” Hans drawled.

“More like having two worrisome grandmas, actually.”

They looked at her and Shinjiro’s mouth quirked up in a grin. That made Rōkura smile and Hans actually snorted.

Then he put a finger forward. “Still not funny. Rōkura, can you please inform me before you decide to go off killing people again?”

She didn’t want to but… he expected it. He was waiting for her answer, and so was Shinjiro. “Fine—I’ll tell you. But what about Shinjiro?”

“Yes,” Shinjiro said. “What about me? I notice you didn’t include me in that statement, Cat Man.”

“What does a steel singer know about any of this? You’re a samurai with honor so far up your ass, you probably can’t take a—“

“Hans!” Rōkura interrupted, surprised. “That’s not like you to speak that way.”

He cleared his throat and tightened up his vest by pulling down on the hem. “Quite right you are, Rōkura-san.” He bowed. “Apologies, Steel Swinger.”

“Do not mention it, Milk Drinker.”

Hans shut his eyes with annoyance, but the truth was, they both liked to get on each other’s nerves quite often. Like two bickering uncles.

Rōkura almost laughed. Are they my grandmas or my uncles?

Hans sighed deeply and with a prolonged exaggeration. “Regardless, this Persistent Bad Luck state is quite troublesome.”

Shinjiro nodded. “I agree.”

“Sorry,” Rōkura said pathetically, her cheeks reddening. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You could sit in your room all day,” said Shinjiro.

She gave him a look. “No, no,” Hans said putting up a hand. Then he put that hand on his chin as he gave something some thought.

“What are you musing on?” asked Shinjiro. He bent over and grabbed some of Rōkura’s food.

Instinctually she wanted to jerk her plate away and tell him to go get his own damn meat, but then… there was a lot in the kitchen. She could just get more. And besides, she actually liked sharing with him.

“I’m thinking of a way to solve our problem. We have a lot of…” He didn’t want to say “assassinations to commit” so he finished with, “Work. We have a lot of work to do. This bad luck needs to come to an end, or perhaps be mitigated. We could… no, that won’t work. Ah—yes!”

The solution was obvious.

“What is it?” Rōkura asked. “Do you have something?”

“Just so, Oni-san.” He smiled. “I am aware of a certain gentleman. He’s quite the gambler, and famous for his good luck. I believe that, should he follow us, your Persistent Bad Luck could come to an end.”

“I am sensing that there is more to this story than you tell us,” Shinjiro said with amusement on his features.

Though he was worried about Rōkura, and he missed his parents and his friends, Shinjiro was quite enjoying himself in Shihon with Rōkura. And… with the Cat Man too. At times.

“Yes,” said Hans, “but if we can get him to join.”

He shook his hand as if trying to fabricate the solution as if by pure magical means. “It should be easy, right? We have a lot of money? And he’s your friend, right?”

Hans sniffed. “’Friend.’ Now that is putting it well,” he said, eyeing her askance. “It is decided then!” He stood.

“What is?” asked Rōkura.

“We’re going to his estate tomorrow. We may catch him, we may not. He is quite a busy man. But I think if we go during the day, we should be able to call on him.” He glanced between them. “All right?”

Rōkura nodded. “Mm.”

“Very well,” said Shinjiro. “A bad plan is better than no plan.”

“It’s not a bad plan,” corrected Hans. The outcome we want is unlikely to be sure, but I am certain we can affect an outcome beneficial to our needs.”

He moved to leave the living chambers, but then he peaked his head back through the doorway with a smile. “There is one more thing?”

“What?” Shinjiro and Rōkura asked simultaneously.

“Take baths,” he said. “You both stink—especially you, Oni-san.”

She shared a glance with Shinjiro and felt a hot flush hit her face. “WHAT?!” she shrieked. “I don’t stink! Shinji—do I stink?”

He recoiled. “Do not come near me.”

She sniffed herself.

“Okay, maybe I do need a bath.” She laughed with embarrassment.

The truth was, she was covered in blood, garbage, urine and all manner of city smells she had no idea came from where.

They had no servants, but Hans had said they would bring some trusted people—from where, she had no idea. Did Ogai-sama have a base or something?

She groaned, realizing she needed to wash her armor.

It would need to dry, and since it was leather, it tended to soak up water really bad. But she could just wear normal clothes in the meantime.

She still hadn’t gone to the market to purchase underclothes, much less things she could wear every day or even to bed. As it was now, she slept naked.

I definitely need to go to the market, but if I ask Hans for money, he’ll insist on coming with me. She hated the idea of buying things of a woman’s persuasion with Hans poking over her shoulder.

“Ugh!”