Chương 26: Curry Rice

Under the mid-afternoon sun, the school bus knelt against the curb, discharging Kurisu and Kenji alongside a few other students onto the sidewalk a short distance away from the Tetsuya household. As Kurisu followed two steps behind Kenji, he examined the structures, noting the repetitive similarities between these dwellings and the Miller residence. After turning twice more, Kenji guided them past a silver sedan sitting in a concrete driveway, stepping up to the door of a modest yellow house.

"Shoes off at the door. My mom's serious about that."

"Understood," Kurisu replied. From the inner rooms, he could smell turmeric, cumin, and sweet caramelized onions drifting into the entryway. The pungent spices, alien to his senses, left him with a spike of apprehension over what bizarre meal awaited him." Gomen kudasare," he announced to the household as he paused on the tile space just inside the door, kneeling to unlace his boots and align the heels with the wall before standing back up. Dropping his bag to the floor as he kicked off his shoes, Kenji called out.

"We're home!" Just ahead, a woman emerged from the kitchen wiping her hands on an apron, sharing the dark hair and eyes of Kenji's glamour, though hers was tied back in a practical bun.

"Welcome, Kurisu," she said, smiling.

"Kenji's told me a good bit about you, says you're from Japan." With a shallow incline, Kurisu bowed." Waga na wa Nodaichi Kurisu nari. To receive such an invitation, I am profoundly grateful." Pausing, Gloria tilted her head, the corner of her mouth turning upwards." Ara?' Waga'?" Looking him up and down, she added in Japanese, "Should it be Nodaichi-kun? Nodaichi-dono? Or perhaps Nodaichi-sama?" His gaze meeting hers, he answered."

Kun is a designation for children, and for the entirety of my life, I have been addressed as Sama." As Gloria blinked, her smile fading, he dropped his focus toward the floor, pulled backward by the memory of his family and his home.

"Alas, my clan is no more, belonging to a bygone era, so as a warrior, I request Dono." Glancing from Kenji back to the matriarch, he added, "However, within this land, I have begun to grow accustomed to no honorifics at all." Stepping aside to clear the hall, Gloria chuckled.

"Alright, Kurisu-dono it is, then. You're very polite. Please, go get cleaned up; dinner's ready." After washing at the kitchen basin, the boys made their way into the dining room to find a man sitting at the head of the table. Roland looked up from a tablet, adjusting his glasses before his expression brightened with recognition.

"Ah, Kurisu, was it? Kenji says you put up two-hundred and thirty-five pounds in gym class," he said, setting the device aside.

"That's some impressive lifting." Does he speak of the display with the one called Brad? Kurisu recalled the trivial iron discs; those weights were barely of note. Inclining his head toward the patriarch, Kurisu replied, "He adds a tail and fins to his words," receiving a chuckle from Roland. Beside Kurisu, Kenji rolled his eyes, nudging an elbow into his ribs.

"Dude, take the win. I'm trying to make you look cool." With a smirk, Kurisu shook his head.

"To lift that... is no victory," he replied. Kenji scoffed, pulling out his chair.

"Yeah, but Brad doesn't know that. By the way, your acting still sucks!" Ignoring him, Kurisu settled into his seat, waiting as Gloria placed a bowl in front of him. He stared down at the strange, golden-brown sauce coating the dish, while the white rice beneath provided some recognizable comfort. Gloria, taking her own seat, joined the family at the table. As he pressed his palms together, Kurisu closed his eyes." Chōdai tsukamatsuru." Across the table, Roland raised an eyebrow." Chōdai tsukamatsuru?

Now that's old school." Pressing their own palms together, the Tetsuya family clapped once in unison." Itadakimasu," they chimed together, reaching for their spoons. Watching him examine the bowl, Gloria tilted her head.

"Tell me what you think, does it taste like home? I tried a new brand for the roux this time." Spoon in hand, Kurisu took a cautious bite, analyzing the brown sauce and the chunks of meat.

"The rice is familiar, however, this stew is peculiar. We do not utilize these thick sauces, and I did not consume this meat in my homeland, though I have eaten it at the Millers." Roland paused, a bite halfway to his mouth.

"No beef? What did you eat, then?"

"Fish, rice, and pickled vegetables," Kurisu answered, chewing the strange meal.

"Fowl, upon occasion." Turning to look at Kurisu, Roland asked.

"That's an odd diet. Were you raised in a monastery?" Kurisu considered, Steven's warning of secrecy flashing through his mind, how to answer without revealing his origin." Waga upbringing was..." He paused, searching his vocabulary for the English equivalent to kibishii.

"... severe."

"Ah, I understand. Very traditional." Gloria smiled at Kurisu, before shooting a glare at her husband.

"And it's not polite to pry."

"Are you adapting to the rest of your classes, Kurisu?" Roland asked. Before scooping up another bite, which he found delicious in spite of his earlier apprehension, Kurisu answered.

"The numbers remain the same no matter the land. The history, however, is a tangle of unfamiliar nations and foreign wars." Frowning, Roland opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Kenji, coughing and sputtering around a rushed bite of food as he added his own assessment.

"He's acing gym, obviously." With a roll of her eyes, Gloria slid a napkin across the table to Kenji, shifting the topic.

"So, Kenji says you're going to teach him how to control and use his... abilities?" Kurisu nodded." Sayō. Power with..." He paused, his brow knitting as he searched for the word.

"... no control is a danger. Ware teach discipline." Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work! Scraping his bowl empty, Kenji stood.

"We're going outside. Time to show me the next step." As Roland retrieved his tablet, he nodded.

"Keep it within reason, please. I don't want craters in the lawn." Beneath a pine tree in the center of the yard, Kurisu stood over a carpet of brown needles, turning to face the younger boy.

"So, we have gone over Chi, and Ki," he stated.

"Now we will go over Shin." Scuffing a boot against the dirt, Kenji frowned.

"Didn't you call it Shinki before?" As he nodded, Kurisu answered into his phone.

"Just so. Shinki, or Shin no ki, translates to the energy of the mind. However, mother mostly referred to it simply as Shin."

"So it's the energy of the mind?" Kenji asked.

"Like magic caffeine?" With a frown at the foreign term, Kurisu shook his head.

"I know not what this caffeine is."

"You know, the stuff that wakes you up," Kenji explained.

"The kick in green tea. Matcha."

"Ah," he murmured, the connection dawning on him at the familiar word. He tapped his temple.

"It shares the clarity of the leaf; however, it is more... tangible. It is cognitive energy given weight. The tool of command." As he crouched over the grass, Kurisu gathered a handful of dry pine needles, closing his eyes and interlocking his fingers to form a diamond seal, holding the sign until the surrounding air charged with static.

"On Kirikiri Basara Un Hatta." With a flash along the length of the pine needles, a razor-thin line of azure light imbued the wood with supernatural rigidity, and Kurisu, opening his eyes, flicked his wrist, releasing the cluster to fly across the yard, piercing the cedar fence post with a series of thuds as they sank an inch deep into the grain.

"Whoa," Kenji breathed. Walking to the fence, he ran a finger over the needles, his eyes widening as he felt them.

"Okay, that's pretty cool. You turned leaves into shuriken."

"The Kōka-in Mudra," Kurisu explained.

"For hardening." Stepping up to the fence, Kurisu pulled one of the hardened needles free while the blue light remained active, drawing the sharpened edge across his own thumb to slice the skin and produce a single bead of blood. This time, Kurisu formed a different seal, crossing his index fingers into an 'X' as he began to chant, Kenji staring at the wound.

"On Koro Koro Sendari Matougi Sowaka." That same soft blue glow crept over the cut, taking hold slowly to knit the skin together over the course of several seconds and erasing the wound.

"The Chiyu-in Mudra," Kurisu whispered.

"For healing." Looking from the finger to Kurisu, Kenji frowned.

"Wait a minute; if you can do that with Shin and a spell, why did you pulp your hand the other day? You destroyed your whole finger to show me Chi healing."

"Delay," Kurisu replied, gesturing to the fading blue light as he elaborated.

"Shin is methodical, and it requires time." With the pine needle raised between them, Kurisu waited as the azure light of the Kōka faded, returning the needle to its natural brittle state before he snapped it in half. After aligning the two broken halves, he formed a new seal, interlocking his fingers and bending his thumbs inward to create a rigid box shape.

"On Hanra Hani Un." Once again, the blue light wrapped around the break like a lattice, tightening as the pieces fused together to erase the break as if it had never happened, before Kurisu held up the restored needle.

"The Fukugen Mudra. For restoration."

"Mudra... fix," he added in English, handing the needle to Kenji.

"It is your turn. The Kōka-in Mudra." Kenji, taking the needle into his hand, looked at it skeptically.

"Kōka... hardening?" he asked, receiving a nod from Kurisu.

"And I just say the words? On Kirikiri..." Kurisu reached out to correct Kenji's grip, forcing his fingers into the Diamond Seal while he spoke.

"Words... key. Mind... open door. See fix." With the needle held in his fingers, Kenji cleared his throat, shifting his weight with awkwardness.

"On Kirikiri Basara Un Hatta!" Nothing happened. Taking a breath, Kenji tried again.

"On Kirikiri Basara Un Hatta!" Though Kenji said the words clearly, the pine needle remained brown, dry, and unchanged. He opened one eye, lowering his hands with a huff.

"Did I pronounce it wrong? Is my accent off?" Kurisu, tapping his temple, shook his head.

"Because your inner perception remains unrefined, I demonstrated it first, so you need not place faith in the unseen, and you now possess the certainty that it is achievable." He paused, switching to English.

"Do not ask. Command. Tell the world... needle is hard." Looking down at the needle again, Kenji closed his eyes.

"On Kirikiri Basara Un Hatta." The azure light flickered into existence along Kenji's hands, and the brown surface of the pine needle took on a metallic sheen. Kenji's eyes snapped open.

"I did it." He hurled it at the fence, the needle wobbling slightly before embedding itself into the cedar.

"Yes!" Kenji cheered, raising a fist. Before the celebration could finish, the boy swayed, stumbling sideways to grab the trunk of the pine tree to keep from face-planting into the dirt.

"Whoa," he slurred, blinking rapidly.

"Head rush. Major head rush." Kurisu steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

"The consumption of Shin," he warned, tapping his temple as he spoke in English.

"Shin use... mind. First time... hurt. Head empty." As he groaned, Kenji rubbed his temples where a dull throb was beginning to form.

"Great, so Chi kills me if I use too much, and Shin knocks me out. Is there anything in this curriculum that doesn't hurt?" A smirk touched Kurisu's lips.

"No." After roughly ten minutes of rest, Kurisu pointed to the younger boy's Tanden.

"Harness your Ki," he commanded.

"Keep it moving. Flex it ceaselessly, without interruption." Dropping into the horse stance, Kenji closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath into his belly as his posture shifted.

"Direct that current into your fist," Kurisu guided. Kenji gritted his teeth, and through the perceptive lens of his Zanshin, Kurisu sensed the energy tracking down the boy's arm to pool in his hand.

"Ignite it," Kurisu ordered. Around Kenji's knuckles, the air blurred with heat, and a single point of orange light flickered into existence on his middle knuckle, wavering like a tiny candle struggling against the breeze.

"It is meager," Kurisu observed, spreading his hands to issue a new command.

"Increase the flow." As Kenji squeezed his Tanden harder, the energy grew more dense, and the flame spread across his index finger, crawling over the back of his hand until it wrapped his fist in a glove of orange fire.

"Acceptable," Kurisu nodded.

"Strike whilst maintaining the current." Kenji, driving his fist forward with a shout, disrupted the flow, and the flame vanished halfway through the punch to leave his bare fist striking the air.

"Your control is unsteady, interrupting the flow of Ki," Kurisu stated. After resetting his stance, Kenji repeated the process, sparking the match-head flame and feeding it until the fiery glove returned, at which point he thrust his fist out once more with narrowed eyes. From overcompensating, Kenji sent a flood of Ki down his arm, causing the flame to expand into a foot-long burst as he yelped, shaking his hand frantically to kill the heat before it scorched his eyebrows.

"Too much," Kenji panted while staring at his smoking knuckles.

"It's like trying to drink from a firehose."

"Squeeze your Tanden cautiously," Kurisu advised, "and strike with silence." Throughout the continued drill, Kenji repeated the motion until sweat soaked his collar, his arms growing visibly weak while his legs shook from holding the kiba-dachi.

"That is enough," Kurisu finally announced. Kenji sank onto the grass with an exhausted groan, wiping sweat from his forehead while his hands shook.

"I can..." Kenji panted, struggling to catch his breath.

"I can keep going."

"No." Kurisu stepped forward to loom over him.

"Your Tanden is entirely devoid of power."

"That... that only took twenty minutes," Kenji gasped, looking up at Kurisu.

"Is that it? Is that all I can do?" Crouching down in the grass, Kurisu met his gaze.

"For now. It is identical to the flesh," he continued.

"Grow... strengthen," Kurisu added in English, pointing to the boy's Tanden.

"Exercise... then recover." Switching back to Japanese, he finished, "Restoration holds equal paramountcy to the exertion itself. Rest." While rubbing his stomach, Kenji muttered.

"You skipped the warning label on that, dude. You made 'burning the soul' sound mystical, but this just feels like I did a thousand crunches in a blast furnace."