A Fox's Family (47 page)

“I
think you’ve got things backwards,” Kiara said, giving
him a fanged smirk. “You’re the one who I’m hoping
will give me a challenge.” She looked over at the silent Kevin.
“Boya, get going. I’ll take care of things from here.”

Kevin
took a deep breath to steady himself. Slowly, he nodded. “Alright.
Thanks.”

Shílì
didn’t stop Kevin as the young man ran past him. He didn’t
even look the boy’s way.

“Not
going to stop him?” asked Kiara, an eyebrow raised.

“No.
Master
Jiāoào
has something special planned for him. It is best to just let my
master have his way with the young man.”

…
A
moment of silence. Several crows cawed in the distance. Kiara watched
a tumbleweed slowly roll between her and her soon-to-be opponent.

Finally…

“…That
sounded so wrong in so many ways.”

***

When
Kevin stepped into the courtyard, someone was already waiting for
him.

The
person standing before him looked even younger than Kevin, though the
two tails jutting from his tailbone said otherwise. Long blond hair
tied into a topknot at the back kept his hair out of his face, all
except for two bangs which fell down his front, stopping just below
his chest. His outfit consisted of a traditional Han Fu robe—a
gown of pure white with long, voluminous sleeves and a multi-layered
skirt of light purple was visible underneath the robes. A belt with
intricate embroideries of a nine-tailed fox held it all together.

A
chill ran down Kevin’s spine, causing him to stop. An unknown
feeling of anxiety passed through him. He felt unnerved by this
kitsune’s presence. The young-looking yōkai did not speak.
He just stood there, staring.

Kevin
gathered his courage.

“You
must be Jiāoào.”

“And
you must be Kevin Swift.”

“That’s
right. What of it?”

Jiāoào
looked him over, then scoffed. “I cannot fathom the reason as
to why my Lilian has pledged herself to you. You’re nothing but
a filthy, disgusting, lowly human.”

The
fear vanished at the petulant kitsune’s arrogant words.

“And
you’re nothing but a jerk who goes around kidnapping the girl
you want because you know it’s the only way you can have her,”
Kevin snapped back. “At least I gained Lilian’s love
naturally, unlike you, so spare me your ‘lowly human’
crap!”

“Tch.
You’re also incredibly crass, it seems. I wonder, have you
always been like this, or is that bluntness something you picked up
from my Lilian?”

“Who
cares? Look, are we going to get this started or not?”

Jiāoào
raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to tell me to, ‘hand
over Lilian or you’ll regret it,’ or something of that
nature? Isn’t that how you protagonist types normally operate?”

Kevin
shrugged. “Why bother? We both know that you’re not going
to hand Lilian over to me.”

“True
enough.”

“Besides,
I don’t think we have enough word count for that.”

“That
is very―wait.” Blink. “You can break the fourth
wall?”

Now
it was Kevin’s turn to blink. “The fourth what now?”

“Never
mind.” Jiāoào shook his head. He must have been
hearing things. “Let us, as you humans say, get this over
with.”

A
cruel smile lit Jiāoào’s face as he stared Kevin
down, his two tails writhing behind him like the abominable tentacles
from an amorphous eldritch horror.

“Allow
me to show you why we kitsune are superior to you apes.”

Chapter
11

Lessons
in Badassery

“
Fire
Art: Fiery Prism, Thirteen Pentagrams.”

Kotohime
watched as streaks of fire carved lines through the air in the shape
of a pentagram. A second pentagram soon joined the first, followed by
a third, a fourth, all the way to the thirteenth. She looked around,
noting that all of the pentagrams had trapped her inside of what she
guessed was a larger pentagram.

“Ara,
ara. What an interesting technique.” Dust rose as her
sandal-clad feet slid further apart. Her left hand grasped the hilt
of her katana, while her right held onto the sheath. “Ufufufu…”

Even
in battle, the chuckle remained the same.

Ling
shuddered.

The
blazing pentagrams of destruction closed in on her, intent on turning
her into cinders.

“
Water
Art: Blade of the Water Lily.”

Water
appeared on Kotohime’s katana, covering her blade in liquid
blue that constantly rippled and shifted as she moved.

“
Ikken
Hissatsu. Sen
.”

Kotohime’s
sword lashed out, an untraceable number of flashes weaving a never
ending trail as the water-covered steel glinted in the light. Each
strike of her blade seemed to slice through one of the pentagrams
multiple times—dozens, hundreds even. And each flame that was
cut by Kotohime’s blade burst into dozens of fireflies, tiny
bulbs of light composed entirely of fire. The fireflies moved a short
distance away, swirling around her in a half-dome entrapment.

“Oh?
What kind of technique is―k-ku!”

One
of the fireflies latched onto her back, and the flame seemed to burn
a hole straight through her skin―no, it felt like the fire was
searing her very soul!

More
and more fireflies latched onto Kotohime’s frame, and each one
that affixed itself to her brought even more pain. And yet, despite
the amount of pain she felt, the swordswoman had the presence of mind
to notice that something was off.

None
of the flames had burned her.

“A-an
illusion! Gah!”

However,
it appeared to be too late by that point. The fireflies swarmed over
her, latching onto her, covering every part of her body in their
orange and yellow light. Kotohime began to struggle. She started to
stagger. Her body fell onto its knees and then toppled face first to
the ground. Her firefly-covered figure twitched once, twice, then
went still.

“Is
that it?” Ling asked, frowning. That seemed far too easy.

She
approached the prone corpse cautiously, her eyes wary for any sign
that Kotohime might not be dead. However, when she reached the
figure, she saw that, indeed, the woman was still.

“It
seems I defeated her,” Ling murmured, “it appears that
she underestimated me, right to the very―what the―?!”

The
body before her dispersed into water. A million tiny droplets
sparkling in the afternoon sun, which hovered in the air—at
least until they all darted towards Ling at unparalleled speeds.

Ling
did her best to defend against the attack, but she didn’t have
time to perform a technique and was thus reduced to reinforcing her
body and guarding her vital organs with her arms.

Her
body was pelted with thousands of water droplets. It didn’t
sound very painful, but when those droplets moved faster than 100
miles per hour and were dense enough that their compositional
hardness was comparative to diamonds, it hurt. It really, really
hurt. With every drop that struck her frame, blood spurted out of a
new wound. And there were many such strikes. Before long, Ling’s
arms, legs and abdomen were covered with small punctures, tiny holes
from which crimson ichor poured. They weren’t large, nor were
they debilitating on their own, but together, they presented a
problem.

“
Water
Art: Tsukuyomi’s Wrathful Tears.”

Ling
turned around, her bloodstained teeth clenched in unmasked pain.
Kotohime stood several feet behind her, unharmed. Her kimono didn’t
have a single cut, tear or burn mark, not even a ruffle or a crease.
The expression on her face remained unchanged, placid and calm and
composed, as if she were not in the middle of a life and death
battle.

“You…”
Ling wiped away at the blood making a slow trail down her chin. Some
of her non-vital organs must have been punctured. “That was…
an illusion?”

“Oh,
no,” Kotohime responded with a light smile. “While I do
have some illusions at my disposal, they do not go very well with my
style. I simply replaced myself with a water clone and held its form
together during your attack using my youki. You were so focused on
watching ‘me’ burn to death that hiding in the bushes
while you were distracted became a simple matter.”

“I
see.” More blood dribbled down her chin. Ling wiped it off.
“You are indeed skilled just as the rumors say. However―”
A pair of black tonfa shot out from the sleeves of her kimono and
into her hands, where they quickly caught fire. “Do not think
this means that I am ready to throw in the towel just yet.
Fire
Art: Encompassing Torch.
”

“I
would expect nothing less.”

Kotohime
shifted into a relaxed posture. She gripped her katana with both
hands, the sheath tucked safely away within her obi. She slid her
left foot forward, bending her legs at a precise 45 degree angle. She
thought about also using her sheath, but discarded the notion as
preposterous. There was no need for overkill here.

A
moment of silence passed. Two opponents eyed each other. They moved
on some unspoken signal, each preparing to attack before the other.

Kotohime
was quicker.

With
speed that the other kitsune simply couldn’t match, she
appeared before Ling in a flicker, a ghostly mirage filled with
ill-intent. Her sword was already descending. Ling raised her tonfas
above her head in an X-guard to block the attack.

“G-guu…”

The
swing never came.

Pain
exploded in Ling’s stomach as something hard and powerful
smashed into her. She doubled over the katana pommel like a foldout
chair, right before her body was launched into the air. She hit the
ground several feet away, her body rolling for several more yards.
Luckily for her, she was on the road. Otherwise, she would have been
the unfortunate victim of numerous cacti.

She
struggled to her feet and looked up just in time to see her
opponent’s next attack.

“
Ikken
Hissatsu. Tsukuyomi no Dansu
.”

Kotohime
began to dance, slowly at first, but picking up speed by the second.
Her blade sang, coming in at Ling from seemingly random angles,
seeking to slip through a hole in the three-tails’ defense.

The
younger kitsune did her best to defend against the increasingly
speedy onslaught but eventually found herself being overwhelmed. Her
tonfas flashed through the air, doing everything kitsune-ly possible
to avoid getting injured, but that was like trying to keep a thousand
killer bees from stinging. Utterly impossible. Cuts slowly formed on
her skin, most notably her arms, which she was forced to use to keep
the majority of the strikes from reaching anything vital.

Then
Kotohime began to spin. Her body started twirling around with the
artistic grace of a ballerina. Her katana came in faster, too,
appearing as brief flashes of silver that disappeared seconds later.
It moved so quickly that it seemed as if there were multiple blades
striking her at once.

The
three-tails tried to defend against the storm, but the task proved
impossible. There were simply too many attacks coming in from too
many different angles. More cuts appeared on her fair skin. All she
could do was grit her teeth and hold out against this unfathomable
onslaught, wincing as her clothes became stained in carnelian liquid.

And
then it was over.

Ling,
her body bleeding from innumerable lacerations, fell backwards,
hitting the ground.

And
then she disappeared, her body bursting into wisps of smoke and a
gout of flame.

“That
was…!”

Kotohime
turned around and raised her blade. A loud
clang!
rang
out across the clearing. The katana Kotohime held in her hands ground
against one of the tonfas. Just one. The other tonfa swung in from
her left. Ling clearly hoped to slip this one in her guard and strike
her unaware. The weapon was even being held by one of Ling’s
tails instead of a hand.

How
cute.

Two
people could play at that game.

One
of Kotohime’s long, white-tipped fox-tails grabbed onto the
hilt of the
wakazashi
being
carried in the sheath on her back. The short blade slid out with the
sibilant hiss of steel, its polished surface glinting in the sun.
Wakazashi
met
tonfa in a clash of sparks. Ling’s eyes widened before
narrowing into a look of fierce determination.

“
Fire
Art: Three Tails of the Undying Flame.”

The
temperature rose around them. Three spots on the ground became red
hot and boiling, like magma bubbling up from a hidden underground
volcano. Fire burst from the ground. Three large pillars rose into
the air and took the shape of three flaming fox-tails.

Kotohime
did not take her eyes off Ling, but through her peripheral vision,
she could see the tails wavering around her, blowing back and forth
as if caught in a stiff breeze. The tails straightened up and then
descended towards her as one. At the last second, just before the
tails struck, the fox-woman in the black kimono leapt back, her left
hand enclosing into a fist.