Chương 34: To Bargain with Demons

Ace, Kellevra, and Kenji slammed into the grass. Pinned by the sudden pressure differential, their faces pressed into the soil while the downward force seized the air from their lungs. Shaking his head from the sidelines, Kurisu watched them.

"Too slow." Neck veins bulging against the earth, Ace wheezed, spit hitting the dirt.

"You... tricked us."" Chigau," Kurisu corrected.

"Wrong. It is you who have halted the flow."

"You believe Ki is required solely for battle, but therein lies your error," he continued as he wove between them, his relaxed movements defying the localized pressure. Clicking his thumb, he switched to English.

"Flow. Stop. Flow. Stop. Too slow. Die. Flow always." Red-faced, Kenji dragged his knees forward, pushing Ki from his Tanden into his legs, levering himself upright. His shivering frame stabilized as the internal energy braced him against the downward force.

"So we just walk around reinforced like tanks?" Kenji grunted, wiping sweat from his chin.

"Great. I look forward to crushing my desk during algebra."

"Unceasingly," Kurisu affirmed.

"Rather than crush your desk, you must learn to govern your strength." When Kurisu stepped closer, he cast a shadow in the afternoon light over Ace, prompting a groan from the boy as he channeled his Ki, fighting his way into a seated position.

"Does the heart rest? Does the flow of blood cease?"

"Blood stop... die," he stated, staring at Kellevra until the boy clawed his way upright.

"Ki stop... die. Why think... you no need Ki?"

"How are we supposed to keep this up forever?" Kellevra asked, wiping dirt from his cheek as he stood his ground, the strain burning through his reserves.

"We'll burn out in an hour."

"You must accustom yourselves to the burden, learn how much you can utilize without running yourselves dry," he directed.

"Whether you slumber or dine, let Ki course through your body." He paused, looking at each of them in turn." Tsu-ne-ni."

"Sleep?" Ace stared at him.

"You want us to do this while we sleep? How do we sleep if we're flexing our magical stomachs?"

"Consider your own physiology." He pointed to Ace's chest.

"How do you govern your bladder while you slumber? It is no different. You must train the body to engage a muscle throughout the night, making the circulation of Ki an unconscious act." Lowering his hand, he added, "Habit. Like breathe." His eyebrow twitched as, through his Zanshin, he felt all three of their circulation rates decrease ever so slightly.

"Have you forgotten already?" he asked, raising a hand to tick the pressure upward, forcing their knees to buckle.

"Do not withdraw your Ki, for if you do, you shall be crushed."

"So if I have a nightmare and lose focus, I turn into paste," Kenji muttered, squeezing his fists as he struggled to stabilize his legs.

"Whether in conflict, or during repast or repose." Kurisu pointed to the house.

"In every one of those moments, you must circulate your Ki." After dropping into Senryū no Kamae, Kurisu settled his weight on the ball of his back foot.

"Now, rise, all of you, and come at me with the intent to kill." Ace and Kellevra, both wide-eyed, stood frozen, exchanging a glance as they looked from Kurisu's stance to Kenji, and then back to each other. A breeze rustled the grass, filling the hesitation as nobody made a move to close the distance.

"Uh," Ace said, raising a hand.

"Question." Kurisu narrowed his eyes, waiting for the attack.

"He's the only one who knows how to do that," Ace said, pointing a thumb at Kenji.

"Like, the actual martial arts stuff. Taekwondo, Kendo, whatever."

"Just Taekwondo," Kenji corrected.

"Yeah," Kellevra added, looking down at his own hands.

"I just tackle people. I don't know how to... you know, actually fight." Kurisu blinked. He looked at Kenji, who gave a shrug in confirmation, before turning back to the two untrained boys standing awkwardly in the grass. A belated realization settled over Kurisu; he had lived in this peaceful world for three months without ever seeing them fight, yet he had still expected the instincts of one conditioned by conflict. As he straightened out of his stance, Kurisu pinched his chin in thought.

"I see," he murmured.

"So, that is where we must begin." With his hands clasped behind his back, Kurisu watched the three boys collapse onto the grass, the sudden drop in atmospheric density allowing oxygen back into their lungs as he waited in silence for them to stand once more.

"Forge a fist," he commanded. Slapping his right fist into his left palm, Ace moved first, stepping forward into a boxing-style crouch with elbows flared wide and his chin jutting forward.

"Yeah," Ace muttered, squeezing his hand until the knuckles turned white.

"Let's do this." In two silent strides, Kurisu bridged the gap, reaching out, tapping the side of Ace's thumb where it tucked inside the curl of his fingers.

"Do you intend to break your thumb?" he asked.

"Uh... what?" Ace stammered, looking at his hand.

"If you strike in such a manner, the bone will surely snap." With a shake of his head, Kurisu pried Ace's fingers apart. He folded the hand anew, curling the four fingers down and digging them into the palm, before laying the thumb across the middle knuckles like a kannuki, the heavy timber bar of a castle gate.

"Here," he explained, tapping the flat surface of the first two knuckles.

"Strike with this surface. You must forge your hand into stone, hard and heavy." Beside the youngest brother, he paused, analyzing Kellevra's form. Kellevra, planting his feet wide, raised his fists near his chin, hunching his shoulders around his ears, bracing for a blow.

"You are far too rigid," Kurisu critiqued, slapping Kellevra on the shoulder.

"Release the tension, and harden the flesh solely at the moment of impact." He stepped back.

"If tight... slow. If relax... fast." He paused mid-sentence, his brow knitting slightly as he reconsidered his own instruction.

"I misspoke," he amended, shifting back to his native tongue.

"Do not strive for speed. Aim for fluidity. Aim for precision. With time and familiarity, speed shall follow." Stopping in front of Kenji, Kurisu observed the teenager's posture.

"Previously, you declared yourself a 'black belt'." Dropping the awkward English phrase directly into his native tongue, he tilted his head.

"What is the significance of this cloth?" Lowering his guard, Kenji flashed a confident smirk.

"Wait, they don't have belts where you're from? It means I'm an expert. Like, I beat all the lower ranks, mastered the basics, and graduated to the highest level."

"A dyed sash denotes mastery?" Kurisu asked, giving a slow shake of his head.

"Within the ancient schools, proficiency is not worn upon the waist for all to see. It is granted in secret through menkyo, sealed scrolls of transmission, and only after decades of blood and discipline. To claim the pinnacle of a martial path at your age is an arrogant boast." Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"Yeah, well, we don't carry scrolls to strip mall dojos," Kenji retorted.

"And what about you? You lecture us like you're some grandmaster. What's your rank?"

"I claim no such mastery," Kurisu answered.

"By right of blood, as the sōke of my clan, I was entrusted with the Okuden, the inner transmissions. Yet, while the deepest mysteries of the art have been revealed to me, their flawless execution in battle still eludes my grasp. A title inherited is not a title earned. I am no teacher, but merely a student upon the path." Kenji snorted.

"Right. Well, just watch." Shifting back into a bladed stance, the 'black belt' raised his hands in a light guard as he shifted rhythmically on the balls of his feet, oscillating his weight from front to back. A crease formed between Kurisu's eyebrows.

"Why do you bounce?" he asked, eyeing the motion.

"Such a movement is meant for sport."

"It's momentum," Kenji argued, maintaining the rhythm.

"The bounce loads the torque. Adds power." As he pivoted on the ball of his lead foot, Kenji whipped his body around a full 360 degrees, lashing his rear leg out in an arc, his heel cutting through the air at temple-height before landing back in his guard.

"See?" Kenji said, breathing out.

"Rotation power." At this, Kurisu gave a single nod.

"Acceptable," he admitted.

"Yet, if you bounce, the enemy will read your intent. The moment you float upon the air, you can no longer evade." Stepping back to create distance, Kurisu addressed the trio.

"To be light on one's feet does not literally mean to bounce, but to hold your weight on the balls of your feet, hovering nearly on your toes in readiness for anything. Within kenjutsu ryūha, this state is known as Ukimi, the floating body. As the proverb goes: Iwa no gotoku koshi o suete, hai no gotoku ashi o ukaseru. Anchor the hips like a boulder, yet leave the feet as weightless as fallen ash." He lowered his hands.

"As you have yet to experience the realities of battle, you must assume a stance identical to my own." As he dropped his center of gravity, Kurisu sank, shifting his weight onto the ball of his right foot while his left foot slid forward to rest lightly on the grass. Raising his rear hand to his cheek, he let his lead hand hang over his left thigh, just below the waist, his fingers curved like talons.

"Observe," he commanded.

"Senryū no Kamae."

"Wait," Ace said, pointing at Kurisu's chest.

"Your guard's down. I could just punch you in the face."

"Attempt it," he replied, a grin cutting across his face.

"Why's your hand so low?" Kellevra asked, squinting at the posture.

"Leaves you wide open."

"It is a lure," he answered.

"You invite the enemy to strike high, so that you may devour them from below." He looked at Kenji.

"This posture suits you, as keeping the center of gravity anchored behind ensures the lead leg remains free." Kurisu lashed out with his lead foot, a blur of motion that snapped the empty air before retracting instantly, his balance entirely undisturbed.

"At the precise moment of the strike, you must shift your rear weight forward onto the lead foot," he instructed, tapping his thigh.

"Do not bounce, simply move, and the momentum shall manifest of its own accord." When he drove his weight into the ball of his lead foot, Kurisu snapped his hips to the right. The sudden transfer of weight pulled his body into a rapid spin, turning him away from Kenji as his right heel slashed backward through the air at chin-height. Forgoing a landing, Kurisu tucked his right leg back to accelerate the spin, throwing his left leg out in a rapid scissor switch.

Spiraling higher, he corkscrewed vertically through the second revolution. Hammering the empty air seven feet off the ground, the instep of his left foot sent a gust of wind tearing through the canopy of the adjacent oak tree, scattering loose leaves across the yard. Kurisu dropped, landing silently back in Senryū no Kamae, his weight instantly settled on his back leg, his lead hand hanging loose and motionless. Kenji stared at the empty air where the second kick had detonated.

"There is no necessity to bounce," Kurisu stated, his breathing even. The rumble of the sliding glass door signaled an impromptu break, a mercy the students appeared all too eager to accept. Untangling his limbs from a failed rotation, Ace peeled himself off the dirt, spitting out a stray blade of grass while Kellevra and Kenji dropped their guards, chests heaving as they turned toward the house. Charlotte stepped onto the patio carrying a package, surveying the sweat-drenched boys.

Her gaze shifted to Kurisu, his immaculate posture in the center of the yard drawing an amused huff from her as she shook her head, dropping the box onto the patio table with a thud.

"Kurisu, I've got something for you," she announced, pulling a pocket knife from her jeans to slice the tape.

"I think you're really going to like it." The boy stepped closer, staring at the cardboard box.

"Weapons?" he asked, leaning in slightly.

"Better," Charlotte answered, reaching inside. She pulled out a thick textbook, followed by a workbook and a set of flashcards. The title on the cover read: Mastering English: The Accelerated Immersion Protocol.

"I filed the Petition for Adoption this morning," she said.

"The lawyers say it's a waiting game now, but the application is in. On the docket, they have you listed as Kurisu Nodaichi-Miller. That means I'm officially on the record as your mother." With a sigh, she brushed a hair from her face, tapping the book's cover.

"And I intend to speak to my son directly, not through a phone. The ESL program at the high school is great, but it moves too slow for me; you've been here three months and we still point at things like tourists, so we need to fix this." Ace, wiping sweat from his forehead, looked from the books to Kurisu. A slow grin spread across his face as he nudged Kellevra.

"Looks like you've got some heavy lifting to do." Eyes locked on the three-inch workbook, Kellevra grimaced.

"Yeah, that looks worse than math."

"He actually likes math," Kenji pointed out.

"So that's not saying much." For a long moment, Kurisu stared at the spines, assessing the stack of paper.

"I..." He took a slow half-step back, shaking his head at the pile.

"Such trivialities are unnecessary."

"Oh, it's necessary all right," Kenji argued, walking over to pick up the flashcards.

"Unless you want to ask for bathroom breaks in feudal Japanese forever." Ace stepped up beside his mother, crossing his arms to mirror the posture Kurisu had used on them only moments ago.

"Here's the deal, bro. We do your training; the stances, the breathing, the getting crushed by air pressure, all of it." He held up a finger.

"But for every hour of physical hell you put us through, you do two hours of this." Ace slapped the English textbook.

"One hour of grinding requires two hours of recovery. And your recovery is studying. With us." With the ultimatum hanging between them, Kurisu studied the expressions on their faces, the reality of his own ignorance pressing in as he recognized his need for this strange tongue to navigate their world. Two hours of mental strain seemed a reasonable tithe to demand for their physical survival.

"Two hours," Kurisu repeated slowly, nodding once.

"Each day?"

"Every day," Kellevra confirmed. Kurisu opened his mouth to respond—" Chigau," Kenji mocked, wagging his finger with a sneer.

"And here I just said you liked math. Wrong." He stepped forward, tapping the face of his smartwatch.

"You misunderstand. Ace said two hours for every hour of training." Kenji held up two fingers on his left hand.

"On school days, we train twice. That's four hours of English." Splaying all five fingers, he held up his right hand.

"On weekends, we train five times. That's ten hours of English." He smiled.

"We suffer physically... you suffer mentally." Frowning as the time debt came fully into focus, Kurisu dropped his chin, exhaling a resigned breath through his nose." Unu-ra wa oni," Kurisu murmured.

"Very well, I accept." Once he straightened, he tilted his head back to look down his nose at them. A sneer pulled at his mouth, his narrowed eyes framing the violet glint that sparked across his irises.

"However, I shall amplify the atmospheric density at random intervals." Driven into the dirt by a localized spike of air pressure above him, Ace's knees buckled as Kurisu slowly extended a single finger, a slight shift of his wrist forcing Kellevra down into the grass before the samurai finally settled the pressure over Kenji, the smugness vanishing from the boys' faces as they caught themselves on their hands and knees.

Watching the dread of their own bargain settle in as Ace swallowed hard and exchanged a nervous look with Kellevra, Kurisu lowered his hand." Kakugo seyo."