Chapter XXIX—Straight to Dessert

The dish was almost completed.

Withersbee peeled the potatoes, and then he heard a scream erupt from out of the basement. He turned, his eyes widening in alarm, but then he realized everything was just fine.

He turned back to his peeling and smirked through his mustache.

Rōkura shivered violently and slapped herself with her free hand now that she had dropped her sword. The… creatures, the monsters were on the ceiling! “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THEY WERE ON THE CEILING?!”

The creatures scurried, clearly agitated.

All around her they moved and scurried on the stone floor. Rōkura bent and grasped for her sword when one of the things lunged passed her, kicking the blade away.

She lurched back and fell on her behind.

When it came in to attack her with its sword, she swung the torch and it lurched away.

Wait—that’s not a sword!

It was a mandible.

The monsters were hideous brown things that stood on long spindle legs, their thighs thick and strong and they had multiple arms, the highest of which at their humped shoulders were spindly and had little hooks.

Their black eyes were shiny and unblinking.

The light of her torch reflected in those black, almost lifeless eyes. Rōkura shivered again, heat and anger rising to her face faster than her revolution. She got up and snarled.

“Now it’s time to die, pests!”

She lurched forward, but the creatures jumped and scattered away into the dark. Several of them jumped from the floor and flipped and over and ant landed on the ceiling where they walked with two legs or hung from their forward mandibles.

Something sharp struck her on the shoulder from behind.

She turned, smelt the blood dripping from her shoulder. She looked at the little monster, which stood about waist height with her and she swore she could see the thing laughing.

“You cut me…” She backed away. “You little shit—you cut me.”

The smell of her own blood was rapturous. She wanted to wipe it up with her hand and lick it up, go into her Oni Rage state.

Of course—if she did that, she would probably collapse the entire mansion, then they would owe Lord Asher Boone a lot of money. Or rather, Ogai-sama would. She wondered how he would take it.

Glancing up, she looked at the monsters with revulsion as she went for her sword.

The sounds of several of them dropping behind her where her blade waited cause Rōkura to turn around.

There were four of them.

Two struck at her with their little hooks.

She jumped, kicking the mandibles away as the monsters recoiled. “Ouch!” Wriggling her toes, she realized she was bleeding there too.

These little monsters didn’t seem that dangerous, but when they attacked, they caused her to bleed. At a safe distance, three of them watched her, smacking their mouths behind little flaps of skin—lips?—as they stared at her.

From the floor, her sword glinted in the firelight of her torch and she smiled, bending down. They moved, but she snatched the blade up and lurched back. With a triumphant laugh, she called, “Too slow, you villains!”

She looked at them.

They bristled and became more agitated, scurrying in all directions and many of them jumping onto the ceiling with their friends. Rōkura marveled for a moment. There must have been several hundred of them down here with her.

And they had been completely concealed until just moments ago, when they chose to reveal themselves.

“Now it’s my turn.

She jumped toward the ceiling, her sword flashing as sharp steel cut through brittle armor-like flesh and wet meat.

Body parts rained down around her and the monsters started chirping and shrieking. There was a loud flutter and suddenly she was attacked from behind—several scratched landing on her exposed flesh where her Mizu armor didn’t cover her.

The cloak she wore wasn’t good protection against their hooked mandibles.

Rōkura growled, turning and lashing out with her katana, she missed and the monsters recoiled, scurrying back in a wave.

The oni was uncertain before. She hadn’t known what she was dealing with. Now that she did, she could attack them with her full force—be done with this as quickly as possible and then go eat lunch.

One of them rushed her, screaming and bleating.

She cut in in half in an explosion of flaky outer skin and gooey inner core. She tasted something sour in her mouth and gasped, her eyes widening in alarm.

Rōkura spat and then licked the dry arm of her cloak, both to get the rancid sour taste out of her mouth, but to also keep from ingesting—

She blinked. I’m not going into my Rage state. The monsters bristled. Their blood must not activate it.

The more she killed, the more they screeched and bristled and became generally aggressive. That was fine.

She lurched forward, her knees bent and her feet angled back. She swung her katana, the blade flashing in the light of her torch as she destroyed entire swaths of the little beasts.

They cried and shrank back in waves, turning and navigating around her. The little monsters liked flanking, attacking from behind.

As she landed she whirled, swinging her sword without even looking. The monsters that were attempting to attack her from behind were severed at their waists, ten of them dropping down in spray of yellow blood as their pallid organs burst out of their body like sacks of bloated milk puss.

Squirming upon the ground, Rōkura stamped one in the head, crushing it into a milky pulp. Too bad they didn’t taste good, otherwise they’d have a lot of meat to eat.

They began shrinking back in waves.

Rōkura pursued them—massacring them in waves as they screamed and retreated into the darker recesses of the cellar and the tunnels that obviously led out of there.

As she destroyed another swath, she screamed,

“Annnd don’t come baaaaack!”

“It’s wonderful,” Hans said with a nod as she ate the cream sauce and partridge meat. Withersbee stood with his hands behind his back, watching, serving when the need arose.

Shinjiro looked at the food. He could appreciate gaijin foods, but this was rather heavy.

“It’s good that you’ve joined us, Master Samurai.”

“I must apologize,” he said, offering an explanation. “I was captivated with your mansion. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“Just so…” Hans said.

Shinjiro glanced toward the little man, but said nothing.

“And how do you find my lovely little home?”

“It is quite marvelous. And cold.”

“Cold?” Lord Asher pouted a little.

“I am more accustomed to more traditional dwellings, even if they are large in some cases. Cultural differences.”

“Ah—to be sure,” Lord Asher said with a smile.

In truth, Shinjiro had been sneaking about, searching for anything suspicious. But he had found nothing nefarious. Either Lord Asher was good at hiding things, or he really wasn’t so bad.

Lord Asher reached for more food. Withersbee jumped to do it for him.

“I can serve myself, you know.”

“Then why do you have a servant?” asked Withersbee under his mustache.

“I said I can serve myself—that doesn’t mean I want to do the cooking, the washing and the general day-to-day drudgeries, Withersbee.”

“Mm—of course not, my lord.”

Asher glanced up, enjoying his meal immensely when he caught sight of the girl interfering the dining hall. “Ah! You’ve returned.” He snapped a finger, eager to have her sit down and “recount” her experiences with the Kurri Warriors.

“Rōkura!” Shinjiro said, and stood up, but he hesitated at the sight of her.

Hans glanced over his shoulder. “Oni-san—this food is quite wonderful! You should—“

She walked past him and reached for a chair, her elbows kept tucked against her body. Withersbee and Shinjiro were there in a moment, helping her be seated. Withersbee pushed her chair in, his eyes wandering about her body just as Hans and the others were.

Hans chuckled nervously as his eyes also darted about the chitinous leftovers soaking her cloak and hanging about her body.

Rōkura was…

Angry and annoyed.

Lord Asher Boon smiled as he interlaced his fingers. “Withersbee—serve the young lady. I am sure she’s famished.”

“Are you certain?” Shinjiro asked her. “Perhaps we should clean you—“

She lifted a finger, shook her heard. Her stomach rumbled loudly and all three men heard it. They paused, incredulous at the sound, then their eyes went to her.

Rōkura was starving, but she didn’t know if she wanted to eat or retch.

‘Hmnngh!” she moaned.

Oh no…

“Ah…” Withersbee noised. He looked at Shinjiro and glanced down to the ice bucket with the cold brandy inside. He pointed, his movements hurried. “Ah—the uh…”

Shinjiro gave it to him.

“Not me—her.” Eyes widening and darting between Rōkura and the table. He grabbed the ice bucket and pulled out the vintage, dumped the ice over the tiles and thrust it at her. “In there!”

She emptied her stomach out in the bowl and Hans couldn’t keep from grimacing in disgust. She was an arm’s reach away from him.

Shinjiro watched and put a hand on Rōkura’s back. She found it comforting, but right now, nothing else mattered but this stupid bucket!

Oh gods!

Hans glanced down at his food, utterly done now.

“Yes,” Lord Asher said. “The Kurri Warriors are odorless, but if you ingest their blood—“

Shinjiro gasped. “Their blood?!”

“Or anything else mind you,” said Asher continuing, “then this—well it does tend to have that effect on people.”

I hate this. Rōkura made a pathetic sound between a whimper and a moan.

“Now, now,” Hans said, reaching over to pat her on the arm as Shinjiro fussed over her on her right.

“Well,” Lord Asher said, slapping the table as he smiled as if some business had been concluded, but of course, none had. “Shall we skip to dessert?”

Rōkura retched again.

“Good heavens,” Hans said.

Shinjiro said, “It’s going to be all right.”

She nodded.

Lord Asher clicked his tongue and shook his head. “My-my. That is bad luck.”