"Hey, Izumo, say something! Did you hit your head?" a cute girl with white fox ears and red hair put her hands on the boy's head. Her name was Kotoko, a girl like a ray of sunshine, always wearing a smile on her face and sharing happiness wherever she went. That was the role she was acting, but Izumo knew how tenacious she was. This girl would always play around and scheme something. In all honesty, there were times when he was scared of her ways of always getting what she wanted.
"Let him gather his thoughts for a bit. That was a hell of a fall. It's a wonder he was even able to get up from that!"
The mocking remark came from Kotaro, his best friend. Izumo suspected he was also Kotoko's boyfriend, but they never confirmed anything, so it was up for anyone to guess how far their relationship went.
"Too bad. You get to see me for many more days to come," Izumo said, testing the waters with his irony as he got up and patted away the dust from his clothes.
"Pretty full of confidence, aren't you? To make promises about the future in this day and age…"
The snarky remark could be heard from a boy sharpening his sword. The name of the boy was Ken. While he was also part of the group, Izumo had a shaky relationship with him, as they could often be found at each other's throats for the pettiest of reasons. Now, a more mature Izumo decided that it would be best to ignore the not-so-subtle provocation launched by his so-called rival.
"I… I don't think it's a bad thing. Maybe it is good that Izumo is so optimistic that times will change…"
Those were the words spoken in a feminine voice by a girl wearing a tengu mask—no, by a tengu wearing a mask to hide her girlish side. Her name was Ten, a name fitting of her proficiency in flight. She was a mix between a tengu man and a human lady.
Tengu are sentient creatures with increased wind magic affinity. They live all over Tsukide, so seeing them was not uncommon.
As for the looks of a tengu—despite their human build, they had some distinctive features, such as a red face and long nose that Ten lacked yet made up for with her red mask. The tengu also had some avian traits, such as the black wings that always proved really useful when controlling the wind currents. Hence why Ten had a pair of dark wings.
Outside of that and her yellow eyes that looked like those of crows, she looked as human as anyone else. It should be mentioned that she was, however, really short. She stood at only 140 centimeters, although, at 17, she was the oldest of the group.
"All right, enough making fun of our dear friend. What I want to know is how you got in this situation," said Kotaro in an amused voice as he patted the back of the boy who seemed to have fallen from the sky.
Even the friendly environment was not enough to help Izumo relax, as he was in a really hard-to-explain situation that could have easily been avoided had he kept focus.
"Yeah…about that… I was…training, you know?"
"Oh~? Training your flying skills? That doesn't sound like you."
At the soft voice that resounded in his ear, Izumo quickly turned his head to see the surprised face of a young fox lady with bright red hair. The playful Kotoko, with her daring beauty complemented by blushing cheeks, slowly increased the distance between their faces while hiding herself behind a fan and whispering: "How bold!"
Izumo was used to the tricks played by her, but that was not as obvious when his ears started turning red.
"Still, she is right. You should know better than that. Is someone who is trying to become a samurai putting their life in danger and breaking the law usually? It is a bit hard to believe," a boy spoke softly.
To Kotaro's doubts, Izumo responded with a bashful smile, to which Kotaro could only sigh, leaving the question in the air for the time being.
"A samurai? Again with this story? What can the son of that waste of a ronin do to become a samurai?" Ken said with a scoff, as if he was not already aware of Izumo's goals.
It had not been five minutes since they had all gathered, and the thorny relationship between Izumo and Ken had already been put on display.
Scuffles like this were a common occurrence when Ken was involved. Most of the time, he would just be brushed off by the others. This was the type of toxic friendship that Ken brought with him. Even so, he was part of the group. Were somebody to ask any of them the reason for which they are putting up with the young swordsman, none could answer. Maybe the fact they went way back was a major factor.
Whatever the explanation may be, one thing was for certain: there is no need to justify keeping someone important to you around. When push came to shove, they all trusted each other with their lives.
Even so, as childish as it may be, there was one thing that Izumo couldn't ignore. He could not accept somebody making fun of his family or his goals, especially since one stemmed from the other.
"If you're going to start again with this nonsense, I'm out of here," Ken said as he walked past Izumo. Only, before the swordsman could take another step, he was pushed back by a palm placed firmly on his chest.
"If you are looking for a fight, just ask," Izumo said, falling for what he was well aware was a trap. He knew, but he could not let those words slide.
"Well, there's no need to say anything else. I can see in those eyes of yours that I've stepped on a nerve," Ken answered with a grin blooming on his face.
*****
Once again, the two swordsmen stood one in front of the other, shooting daggers through their eyes while readying their swords.
"It's been like, what, one week since their last fight? Come on, Kotaro, tell them to stop!"
The sweet voice of the fox lady was meant to show displeasure with the fight that was soon to take place, but there was nothing her or her friends could do with those two.
As the son of an active samurai, Nakamura Ken displayed arrogance way above his ability, but that was typical for most sons carrying a relevant name. Even so, his ability with a sword was nothing to scoff at. The same could be said for Izumo, but his usually calm demeanor gave off the exact opposite impression.
Of course, what they were holding now were not their precious swords gifted to them by their fathers, but the typical bokken used for training.
"You can even pull the real sword. It's not like you are going to land a hit on me."
The taunts launched by Ken were doing nothing more at this point, but, deep down, Izumo couldn't wait to shut him up, just like he had been doing for the past five duels. However, this time, the most difficult task may prove to be holding back against his adversary.
"The usual. No magic. OK?" the shy voice of Ten confirmed from the edge of the arena.
Good. That saves me some trouble.
With one less thing to worry about, Izumo raised his bokken in front of his body, ready for another exchange with Ken.
Before the start of the fight was even signaled, Ken rushed Izumo and started his attack with a blow to the body. This was within expectations, so Izumo easily parried the blow and counterattacked with the tip of his bokken, only for it to be deflected quickly by Ken.
This exchange continued for the next twenty or so blows—the minimum they would go at it evenly matched before one of them felt the need to break the status quo. Their fights always meant that one of them would go beyond their current abilities around this point.
On the 21st blow, Izumo slipped up and used his plethora of years of experience with different swords to pull one up on Ken. Using a never-before-seen move, Izumo grabbed the 'blade' of the bokken and hit Ken over the face with the hilt.
The two of them took their distance, and not a word was exchanged. They both looked at the tengu referee, who gave the sign to continue. The hit with the hilt, although unexpected, was not considered either a legal or an illegal move; hence, it could not serve as the winning strike.
The two of them went back to exchanging blows. A hit overhead, one at the thigh, and one at the body—all of them were parried by Ken, who displayed a smug smile as if to taunt Izumo, whose patience was running thin.
"Is this all you have? You won't even get to carry the swords of other samurai with this!"
So, Izumo decided to quicken the pace just for the sake of shutting Ken up. It was not a hard task for him now, but the body of the boy still felt a bit sluggish for the moves he was starting to pull.
Even so, Ken was clearly struggling to keep up. The victory was within grasp, and with such an overbearing technique towards the end of the fight, he would prove his superiority once and for all. He had to, as behind a nearby house, he could see the silhouette of a full-fledged samurai looking at them. This was his shortcut to reaching his goals. It was not the time to keep the weak act up.
After having another hit deflected, Izumo found himself with his weapon lowered to the level of Ken's left knee, in an unusual position that was hard to defend in time. Neither of them had anything else to do but attack.
There it is.
The boy saw the opening left by Ken, and by twisting and raising his lowered bokken, he went in for the strike. He had way more time than Ken, who was barely recovering from his last move. Victory was assured, but…
He aimed too high. Ken was able to dodge the hit and deliver a cheap one-handed strike to Izumo's face.
The fight was over. Ken won.
*****
With his face swollen, Izumo was now sitting in his room, on the second floor of a familiar building on a busy street, looking at the evening sky. There were two ways he could have looked at this sky. He could have trusted it to be the sky that would take away the last evening of his struggles, or it could have been the sky that would toss his ambitions in the dark. Unfortunately, the latter came true.
Of course, this was an exaggeration born from his childish brain. Because he often lost his life at a young age, living many of his lives more like a child rather than an adult, the limitations of a boy's brain would often get to the man who lived more years than he remembered to count.
In truth, it was unknown whether that samurai even cared about their fight. He may have just been a passing samurai that stopped to take a look and a laugh at the two kids. But to the gutted Izumo, it was a clear sign that he was not good enough. Knowing this hurt all the more when thinking he did not hold back against Ken. The bokken not listening to him could have only been from his own incompetence.
"That hit should have connected…" he mumbled.
From the other side of the room, the door slid open, and a tired merchant—no, a tired ronin turned merchant entered his son's room.
"Your face, how is it?" the ronin asked.
"It could be better," the son answered.
The man, Kinichi, formerly known as Oomori Kinichi, Izumo's father, took a seat next to the boy and spoke.
Nothing about him stood out, except for his brave past as a samurai. But someone's past rarely shows on the skin. For most, he looked just as unimpressive as the next person.
"You know? Seeing you try so hard, I realized something: I've never really had the chance to thank you…"
"What should you thank me for? I just blew away my biggest chance at getting us a name…" said the boy, not daring to look his father in the eyes.
"That attitude is exactly what I should thank you for. I've never forced this task on you, yet you took it upon yourself to get back what your dad lost. What else could I ask of a son?"
"Even so, I'm too weak to do anything—"
"Haha! That's something coming from a boy who is only 16! You still have a long way to go. I won't try to hide it. I hope you will succeed. This life is not what I want for us, but I'm unable to provide anything more for this family," Kinichi said in a soft, fatherly voice.
"It's true that I need your help, but remember one thing. You are more important to me than that title is. This family is not happy because you're fighting for us. This family is happy just to have you and your sister," he continued as he placed his hand, which was missing two fingers, on his son's shoulder.
"Speaking of Big Sis, when will she be back?" asked the boy, willing to accept his father's praise instead of putting himself down,
"We've heard nothing from her in some time. I hope she comes back for the Obon festival."
After this short exchange, the father and the son stood together for a while, looking down at the busy street before each of them went to bed.
As Izumo closed his eyes, he felt relieved that he lived in such a loving household. The memories of his childhood in Tsukide calmed his troubled mind even if they were just a drop in an ocean of death and pain, and the man who went though countless lives, decided to accept his new one as a boy trying to become a samurai.