Volume 6 Chapter 20 The World of Blue and White ②
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Before the sun could break the horizon, two young men paced slowly across the practice grounds, their figures blurred by the rising morning mist.
”I’ve gotta say, I’ve really been in your hair for quite a while now, haven’t I?” Kazuramichi Naoshi said.
”It felt like a heartbeat to me. I’m only sorry I can’t convince you to stay longer,” Touma Yukinojo replied.
”Well, I’ve got my own messes to clean up back home. If you ever find yourself out Kansai way, look me up. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
”I’ll hold you to that. Should the opportunity arise, I’d be honored.”
Even as the words left their lips, both knew the chance was slim. Their duties tied them to their respective soil, and more than that – the world was shifting. The era of peace was fraying. It wasn’t just the evidence piling up; it was the honed instinct of elite exorcists ¹. They could taste the coming storm.
”By the way,” Touma Yukinojo asked, his voice low, “have you heard the whispers regarding the Bureau of Onmyo ² and Kyoto?”
”Ah, you mean that blatant bit of scapegoating? The old ‘cutting off the lizard’s tail’ trick. What’s the word on the street? How bad is it really?”
”A secret pact was made, no doubt. A trade of favors… but the silencing came too swiftly. The only people with the answers have already crossed the Styx.”
Inside the Bureau of Onmyo, two of the Kamo clan’s kin – officials within the ranks – had met untimely ends: one a suicide, the other a suspicious death. Both left notes hinting at the Metropolitan Incident, but they were hollow words, designed to lead investigators into a cul-de-sac. Meanwhile, in Kyoto, the former head of the Kadenokoji family – a branch of the Kamo – was declared dead of sudden illness. A convenient diagnosis, to say the least.
The only man left standing was the head of the Tsuchimikado and the reigning ‘Suzaku ³.’ He denied everything, of course, but he’d stepped down as a gesture of deep regret, taking the fall for the Kyoto Omyoren’s failures. His son was acting as a proxy, and the seat of Suzaku sat empty. To the common folk, it was just bureaucratic reshuffling. But to those who knew the balance of power, it was a massacre. Four first-class exorcists to guard the Kyoto capital had always been overkill; now, the wall was crumbling.
”The Tsuchimikado patriarch over here died in the line of duty, didn’t he? How are the two houses holding up?” Kazuramichi Naoshi asked.
”Recovery is a distant dream. The Tsuchimikado heir is roughly our age, but…”
”Never heard of the guy. Any good?”
”He tries. But I doubt he’ll ever see the rank of first-class.”
”Bleak. And Kamo-san?”
”Worse, perhaps. He was stationed in the north during the defense of the base. He spent the entire conflict in the reserve ranks – never even drew his blood. And now, with the rumors of a spy in his own bloodline…”
Whether the Kamo were actually complicit or merely incompetent didn’t matter. In their world, the perception was the reality. The Kamo were no longer a power to be reckoned with. They weren’t a cure anymore; at best, they were a lingering poison.
”In Kanto, the old ties of blood are thinning,” Touma Yukinojo noted, “but that only makes the remaining clans more defensive. More desperate.”
”Biding their time while nursing their wounds,” Kazuramichi Naoshi muttered. “A dangerous combination.”
Hardship breeds desperation, and desperation makes men dull. Could the Kamo and Tsuchimikado – the once-proud pillars of Onmyodo – keep their honor while drowning? The path ahead looked pitch black.
”Information is the problem,” Kazuramichi Naoshi sighed. “Can’t we just call up a medium ⁴ at Mount Osore and ask the dead ourselves?”
”In another age, perhaps…” Touma Yukinojo offered a grim smile. Even if they ignored the ethical nightmares and international protocols regarding the privacy of the deceased, information gained from the beyond held no weight as evidence. It was a high price to pay just to confirm a conspiracy that was already over.
”Suppose there’s no helping it then.”
”No. We have to make do with the living.”
Kazuramichi Naoshi nodded, looking up at the gray sky with a heavy sigh. “It’s going to get ugly out there.”
”You think so?”
”Of course it is,” Kazuramichi Naoshi shot back. “I’m an outsider and even I can feel the friction. You’ve gotta feel it too, Yuki-kun.”
”I do. It’s a shame.”
”But hey, I don’t think the timing is all bad.”
”Oh? Why’s that?”
”Because you’re here, aren’t you? The strongest exorcist in Japan – hell, maybe the strongest in history. Can’t ask for better backup than that.”
They completed their circuit of the grounds and came to a halt.
”Thank you, Nao-san. Hearing that from you… it actually gives me a bit of confidence.”
”Don’t play modest with me. As if you’ve ever lacked for confidence.”
Touma Yukinojo laughed softly and walked toward the center of the misty field. The dawn breaks earlier in Kanto than in the west. Kazuramichi Naoshi watched as the eastern sky bled into a pale, bruised white, then followed.
”Nao-san – thank you for everything. Truly.” Touma Yukinojo stopped and bowed deeply.
Kazuramichi Naoshi waved him off. “I had to work for my room and board somehow. I was just settling a debt.” He shrugged, his tone airy, but Touma Yukinojo’s face had already shifted. The playfulness was gone.
Two yards of misty air separated them.
”Well then,” Touma Yukinojo said.
He drew his blade in one fluid motion. The steel was razor-thin, trailing a wake of light like running water, seemingly sharp enough to slice the fog itself. He took the Seigan stance, the point of his sword leveled at his opponent’s heart.
”Yeah.”
Kazuramichi Naoshi’s voice dropped an octave, devoid of its usual levity. He settled into a low, half-turned stance, his feet positioned in the shumoku style. His left palm was raised high, near his brow, while his right hand hovered at his hip, palm down – the Tenchi stance of Heaven and Earth.
Touma Yukinojo’s eyes narrowed. Within those ice-blue depths – the Divine Eye ⁵ – a cold, silent flame ignited.
No words had been exchanged about this. No formal challenge had been issued when they left the house. Yet, here they were, drawn together by a silent understanding.
”Kazuramichi Naoshi, Head of the Kazuramichi Family.” He claimed the name of the challenger.
”Touma Yukinojo, Third Head of the Touma Family.” The response was devoid of pride, filled only with presence.
””Now!””
Their voices clashed. No signal, no referee, no audience. Only the two of them.
””BEGIN!””
The air screamed.
A sharp, crystalline ring echoed across the field. Touma Yukinojo’s breath hitched. A flash of pale green – his beloved blade, which had reaped a thousand spirits, had been stopped dead for the first time in years.
Kazuramichi Naoshi had moved with a god-speed that rivaled Touma Yukinojo’s own ‘Lightning Strike’ specialty. It was a direct, flat-hand thrust aimed at the chest, and Kazuramichi Naoshi had caught the returning blade between his elbow and his knee.
He was grinning. A cruel, jagged expression. This wasn’t the flippant man from the breakfast table; this was a predator who had finally found worthy prey.
He’s going to break it, Touma Yukinojo realized. Not just the sword – the momentum of the entire fight.
In the heartbeat that followed, Touma Yukinojo didn’t pull back. He swung. He threw his entire weight into a rolling arc, using the friction to whip the blade free. He slipped away, but the movement exposed his back. He felt it – the cold prickle of death on his spine. The sudden surge of spiritual pressure.
”HAA!” Touma Yukinojo yelled.
Touma Yukinojo didn’t hesitate. He dropped low, turning his forward momentum into a violent, 360-degree spin. He became a whirlwind of steel, the blade’s arc clearing the space behind him a fraction of a second before death could strike.
The pressure vanished. Kazuramichi Naoshi had leaped back, resuming his Heaven and Earth stance at the exact distance they had started. Touma Yukinojo reset to Seigan.
It had been a single exchange, a mere second of contact, yet white steam was already pouring off their bodies – spirit energy boiling into the cold air.
On paper, the sword gave Touma Yukinojo the advantage in range. But as he looked at Kazuramichi Naoshi’s empty hands, he saw a phantom – the flickering image of a cross-spear’s tip. Naoshi’s intent was so sharp it created an illusion of reach. If he hesitated, he’d be skewered; if he stepped in carelessly, the opponent’s blade would reach him first.
A smile touched Touma Yukinojo’s lips. He’s strong.
Kazuramichi Naoshi, meanwhile, felt the sweat beginning to bead on his neck. Touma Yukinojo was a paradox – burning fire encased in a shell of ice. He was the strongest for a reason. He wouldn’t wait. He would move with the absolute minimum of wasted motion.
Naoshi read the intent. He read the next three moves. But the opening was so small, even a man as fast as the ‘Lightning Bolt’ struggled to find the purchase. He stared into those blue eyes – the Heavenly Eye that saw all. The same trick wouldn’t work twice. He had one more chance to catch that blade. If he was going to end this, it had to be now.
I can’t get a read on his energy, Kazuramichi Naoshi realized. Fine. If he won’t show me his, I’ll show him mine.
He exhaled – a long, slow hiss. He began to grind his spirit energy ⁶ to a fever pitch. The air began to crackle and hiss, the smell of ozone and scorched spirit filling the mist. The atmosphere itself seemed to groan under the weight of his presence.
Sizzle. Crack.
Across from him, Touma Yukinojo exhaled a breath of pure frost. The morning mist crystallized around him, falling as glittering diamond dust in the dim light.
Kazuramichi Naoshi’s eyes turned into slits.
”SHAAAA!” Kazuramichi Naoshi roared.
He vanished. He lunged with god-speed, his right hand snapping up like a viper to strike at Touma Yukinojo’s throat.
Got him.
But his hand passed through empty air. He’d only scattered a few strands of black hair. Before he could process the miss, Touma Yukinojo was already countering with a rising diagonal slash. Kazuramichi Naoshi stamped down, his foot catching the base of the sword’s guard against the ground, pinning it.
Static equilibrium. Touma Yukinojo poured his raw strength into the hilt, matching the opponent’s superior weight with sheer spiritual leverage.
Suddenly, a violent shiver raced down Kazuramichi Naoshi’s spine. He kicked off the arm and threw himself backward. Crunch. Ice shattered and fell from his limbs. If he’d stayed a second longer, the cold energy would have frozen his blood in his veins.
His balance was off. He’d lost the flow.
”HAA!” Touma Yukinojo yelled.
”OOOOOH!” Kazuramichi Naoshi roared.
Touma Yukinojo surged forward. A relentless barrage of steel. A horizontal sweep. A downward cleave. A diagonal slash. Kazuramichi Naoshi retreated, dodging by whiskers, parrying with the hardened edges of his palms.
The thrust was coming. Naoshi braced for it, but Touma Yukinojo stopped mid-motion.
Neither could find the killing blow. They stood frozen for a heartbeat, two predators gauging the exact millisecond of the other’s exhaustion.
Silence. Only the sound of ragged breathing.
In terms of pure technique, it was a stalemate. In terms of spirit energy, they were perfectly matched.
There was no more room for games. Simultaneously, they reached for the heart of their power.
””—Domain, Bind.””
The two worlds collided. A blinding expanse of pure blue and absolute white.
—
Summary:
Naoshi and Yukinojo walk together before dawn, discussing the political fallout of the Bureau of Onmyo and the decline of the Kamo and Tsuchimikado houses. Despite the somber mood, Naoshi praises Yukinojo’s strength as a beacon of hope. They conclude their meeting with a fierce, high-level sparring match where their spirits collide as equals.
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Character Insight:
Yukinojo reveals a rare moment of humility and laughter, while Naoshi displays his true, predatory nature as a warrior, dropping his fake persona during their duel.
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Behind the Scenes:
The ‘lizard’s tail’ idiom highlights the systemic corruption common in supernatural political dramas, where subordinates are sacrificed to protect high-ranking officials.
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TL Notes:
Notes:
• Touma Yukinojo – The head of the Touma family, a prominent exorcist clan from Kanto. At just 21 years old, he is regarded as the strongest exorcist in Japan, known for his exceptional swordsmanship and mastery over fire. He is also referred to by the title ‘Ice Blade’, which scatters spirits, and is noted for possessing the ‘Divine Eye’, a unique ability that further enhances his prowess. Yukinojo is described as a handsome young man with the blood of a snow woman.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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