Amidst the lands of Youdu there is a wall; a great and mighty one, spanning fifty meters in height and many kilometers in length. Inside it is the path to the urban areas of the City Between, metropolitan zones like Anahata and the Devil Moon district. Not too far beyond its other side, however, are the lands of the wild, where wild chimera beasts roam and poor masses attempt to eke out a living, hunting, tilling the fields and harvesting in the forests for food. In the past, these lands were far more rough; filled with horrible beasts that threatened not only the inhabitants of the wilds, but those of the city inside. To keep such monsters out, a mighty wall was built, staffed with overseers of the city to ensure no beast would pass through. Yet as those who called themselves Beast Hunters grew in both power and number, so did the danger of the wilds diminish; the threat of beastly incursions became ever so smaller. These days, the Wall is nothing more than a mechanism, kept more out of practice than any real fear of invasion by the chimeras of the wild.

It is very early in the morning; the hours before dawn has wakened. The night shift, already weary, look forward to the last minutes of their watch before they are allowed to at last return home for the day. Theirs is a lazy job, consistant of watching the flow of travellers and looking out for the eventual smuggler who, using one of the entries into the mortal world present in the wilds beyond, attempts to sneak back into the City with their backpacks full of illegal goods. But those events are rare and calm, nearly always solved by a decent donation to the pockets of the watch. So they push down their caps, and, waiting for their duty to end, count out the minutes on the clock...

Some distance from the wall, a lone figure stands.

He looks at the wall above, lanterns illuminating the darkness of the early day as overseers patrol. He waits until they carry on, leaving a portion of the wall unattended if but for a few moments. His opportunity had come. Digging into his jacket, he pulls out a small metallic cyllinder, weighing it on his hand as he continues to stare at the wall. Then, arching his hand back, he throws the object with boundless strength, sending it whizzing through the air as though it were a flying star. The object, thrown with force comparable to a bullet, crashes into the very top of the wall, embedding itself near a parapet. Without wasting a moment, the man digs out another similar cyllinder and throws it on the earth besides him, its hollow end facing upwards. There is silence for a moment, then a whirr as sharp metallic wire shoots out of the rod, connecting the two objects with a single bridge-like rope.

With a grace more fitting for a cat, the darkened man jumps into the rope, and begins running atop it; this wire, so thin and sharp it could be used like a blade, becomes nothing more than a tightrope ramp beneath his skillfull feet. He runs alongside the range of the rope, jumping into the wall with a flip as he pulls the rod out of the wall, reeling back the wire and rod as they fly out of the ground into his hands. Within moments, the wire is gone, and the man, now ontop of the wall, slips the items back into his jacket.

The wall sentries quickly approaching, the man wastes no time in jumping off the wall, flying through the air with ease before landing in a squat position and taking off into the streets, disappearing from the sight of the wall guards as they lay ignorant of what transpired. At last on the clear, the hidden figure slow downs to a walk, and exclaims to himself.

"It really is way too, easy, no?"

He was Shukisame, after all - the Death-Descending Monk. The wandering manslayer who had bounties on his head posted by the Blue Hellion, the Six Fingers, the Red Oni, the Blue Oni, the Lunar Temple, the Overseers and even the Exorcists. He'd even taken to collecting the posters of his visage as a hobby of sorts.

Tonight, all that was moot however - as his duty called, not as an Insurgent, but as a humble Hat Wearing Smuggler. Indeed, even a high grade killer like himself needed money. Food and drink, the expensive cleaning oils his naggy old man of a sword demanded, even the occasional bribe to the local officials when he did not feel like having his home swarmed by overseers. Ever since he had fought the wielder of the Masamune, he had been under more heat than usual.

"The things I do for some variety, huh? Can't fight all the time..."

This job was quite a reasonably sized one; the Six-Finger Mafia had contracted him to acquire a rather considerably sized quantity of drugs from the mortal world. Though the Fingers were not great players of the narcotics trade, there were always those in their casinos who wished to "take the edge off"

He began to pick up his pace. Even without the usage of aura, his was a speed without compare. Their meeting was to be in an abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of the devil moon. It would have been a rather suspicious location, had he not known of the curious "code of honor" their members held themselves to.

And if they did not - well, he wouldn't dislike it...




"It's aaaall there! You can check."

Shukisame touts in a sing-song tone as he puts down the short wooden crate that had been strapped to his back for his journey. Inside, several dozen bags of that ever so fashionable white dust were tightly packed.

Across the room, a rather considerably sized party - over ten men at least, of various races, stood grimly, holding their weapons. At their head was a luxuriously dressed woman, wearing clothes more fit for a courtesan yet with an expression befitting a soldier. Shukisame could not help but feel he had seen that face somewhere before...

"Hmph." said the woman. "Check the product." With her word, one of the men wordlessly moves forward, punching a small hole into one of the bags. White powder spills over from within, staining the knife.

"Pretty good, riight??
"Alright. Get him his payment."

In moments, a large pouch is thrown, precious coin stored within. Shukisame grabs it mid air, weighing it in his hand with a few light throws.

"Thanks for the patronage, friend."
"With this," begins the woman as her hand rests upon the sword in her hip. "our deal is finished."

Before a single word more can be said, Shukisame suddenly jumps, saulting several meters into the air just as several deep gashes explode on the concrete below him. Yet even before he landed, the woman was upon him, sword drawn out as she jumped him mid-air. Twisting his body as though he had no bones, he narrowly avoids her attack, kicking her into a wall with a spin that kills his momentum, letting him land to the floor once more.

As he gets up, Shukisame finds himself completely surrounded; behind him, the other grunts of the finger had already pulled out their weapons, blades and bows aimed towards his head. He had found himself in an ambush, cut off completely from escape! Yet despite his situation, the monk seemed to remain completely calm.

"What a cruel plan! I thought you fingers were all about honor..." he says, in a joking tone.
"Don't talk about honor, scum." replies the woman, already back on her feet and staring at him with a murderous glare. "I'm putting down a mad dog. That is all."

"Wait!" he suddenly says, his eyes opening with surprise as he points towards "I know who you are! You're the Butcher of the Six-Fingers, aren't you? Tell me..."

Suddenly, his hands drop to his sides, his eyes betraying the sick grin beneath his mask. A vile aura seems to emanate all around him

"Do you really think...you can beat this 'Shukisame'?"

His question was answered with another charge, another lunge, another attempt by Iori to skewer him on her blade. But as she began to move, her senses suddenly screamt for her to stop! She planted her sword into the ground, just barely stopping as a massive scythe crashed just where she would have been, hitting the ground with such strength that cracks spread through the entire building floor.

"Nice moves ~"

She moves in yet again, sidestepping Shukisame as he brings out the scythe with a swing of its blunt side. She tries to slice him again, but he parries the blade with Keimatsu, sparks flying where the two weapons meet. Shukisame jumps backwards, several arrows from Iori's bow specialists hitting the ground where he was. He jumps into an overhead swing, but switches midway, letting his hands slide until the very hook before using the pole as a staff and jabbing Iori, sending her falling backwards. He turns to move against her, but suddenly twists his oversized scythe, arrows plinking off metal where his head previously stood. He catches some of the arrows as they fall. Staring into his assailants, he tears apart the arrowheads from the shafts, and in a blur, throws them like shuriken, nailing the archers in their heads as they drops dead on the spot. Shukisame begins to chuckle. "All that for a distraction?"

He drops forward as another vicious swing flies for his neck, using Keimatsu as a handle to throw himself out of the way. Iori, weapon in hand, looks at him with a glare even more murderous than before. The monk casually leans on his scythe, as if resting. "What do you look at me with such anger for? Don't bring someone into a fight if you don't want them dea-"

His comment was interrupted as Iori suddenly appeared at his side in an burst of air streams. Although he just barely blocks the attack, the sheer strength behind it sends him off his feet - but not before she lets out another burst of air, turning around into a spinkick that crashes into his side and sends him flying off with broken bones. Her kanabo specialist, seeing the enemy come his way, steps forth and bats the flying monk with all his force, sending the man back where he came from. Iori prepares for a fatal slice, blade ready to cut him in half, before Shukisame yet again twists his body out of the way of the attack at the last minute, staining the ground red as he skips off the broken floor several times before finally stopping.

He jumps up to his feet, hands still tightly gripping his scythe, as Iori still wordlessly approaches him. Taking the counteoffensive, he wards her off with a wide swing - which she dodges under, falling on him with an upper swing that cuts into his shoulder, leaving crimson-stained marks in its stead. Shukisame tries to kick her, intent on forcing her away from him, but she once again avoids his attack, answering with a straight kick of her own that yet again sends him away.

By then, the murderous monk was already in a sorry state - his ribcage was almost entirely shattered, and his body as a whole was littered with bruises both big and small. Yet the pain only seemed to egg him on further, his joy shining through his coverings.

"If I knew killing your men would have made you like this...I'd have done it sooner."

"Die." she answers, her aura flaring in a burst that cuts into his chest as though she had run him through with a spear. He coughs blood through his mask. Iori charges, sword at her side, for a decisive blow. He raises his scythe to stop her - yet the swing hits its middlemost point. A critical strike. The scythe is split in twain with the ease one cuts bamboo. She reels her sword in for the final strike, a jab to pierce him through the heart. Yet as her blade strikes forth and pierces flesh, it is not his chest, but his hands! In a move of desperation, Shukisame used his very palm as a shield, his Yokai-blessed strength just barely stopping the blade from vanquished him! Iori is surprised, if but for a moment, and it is enough to give him a gap. His free hand flies to his hip, and Iori jumps back moments before a strike lops off her head, tearing the hand upwards but leaving him free still.

At last, he had drawn it, that demonic blade - Onimaru!

"Haaah. Sadly for you, I still have my sword hand."

At that time, one of Iori's specialists fidgeted with the weapon in her hands. They had been given very specific tasks - to stop the target from running and to support, but nothing beyond that. The fight between her boss and the monk had been a blur - even for a phaser like her. She had not dared to use her pistol lest she accidentally hit the chief, but now, that man had stopped, and had his back to hers.

Pushing her aura to its limit, she raised her hand arm and aimed for his back, only to find out he had disappeared! Startled, she willed her body to move that she could look, only to find herself unable to feel it, and her sight somehow catching her own body.

Shukisame stood besides her, sheathing the blade in a Iaido move as the headless corpse stood in place, frozen. Seeing the arm she had raised against him, he pried it off her still stiff hands, sending the body crumbling to the ground at last.

"Hmm, what kind of pistol is this?" He muses out loud, staring at the small firearm in his hand. "I think I've seen one of these In the mortal world once."

He suddenly points the gun at Iori. "You use it like this, right?"

Three squeezes, and three blasts. Three time does the gun fire, lighting up the warehouse with its muzzle flash. Yet Iori stands still. The shot had not been for her - behind, in the far wall, a single bullet hole stands, and three bullets melded in one fall to the ground. Shukisame chuckles yet again.

"Just kidding! It's certainly easy to use, though...maybe I'll keep it!" he continues, slipping it into his kimono.

His left arm limp at his side, Shukisame stands proudly at a distance from Iori. From across the warehouse floor, the two swordsmen stare each other down. Of the original men who had been brought, only a few remain, and the Butcher's mood proved it such. With only some light wounds to show, she had the advantage.

He threw a smoke bomb.

Immediately, the warehouse was filled with Smoke, and a loud noise of breaking concrete rang. Had he tried to escape? Iori began to move, attunning her senses. She could not let him escape, not after killing so many of her men!

Shukisame jumped through the cloud, weapon in hand.

Bursting in a jet of air again, Iori just barely escaped his jumping chop. She raised her sword, and he attacked yet again! She parried his move, and he answered with another. Despite his wounds, the monk assailed her with an unending barrage of aggressive blows.

"GUILLOTINE THUNDERCLOUD!"

He attacked her with ferocity and speed, beating upon her with his blade that it seemed her advantage of strength had been lost. She uses her jets of air again and again, just barely dodging the attacks. Yet after so many uses of her legendary technique, her aura pool grew tired. She had to counterattack now and then! Enhancing her body with one last great boost, she charged forth to attack him regardless of the cost! Her eyes wide, her heart pumping, she attacked!

He swung his wounded arm as though it were a whip, and before she could react, droplets of blood flew into her eyes, blinding her, and in her lack of vision, his blade met her at last. It cut through flesh and bone like butter, splitting her in half, cutting her in twain at the waist. Her bisected body dropped behind him, gurgling as crimson bile began to fill her mouth. Running his thumb through Onimaru, Shukisame licked his bloodied finger.

"Thanks for the meal, Butcher-san."

The fighters of the Onyx stood aghast, staring at the men who had felled The Claw. Though they wished to avenge her, the distance in their skills was far too evident. Shukisame turned to them, with a puzzled look.

"What are you staring at me for, friends? You can still save her if you're quick, you know?"

And then promptly turned, skipping into the smoke and out of the hole made by the smoke bomb spirit - though not before taking the crate of drugs he was to give them.

As the worried yelling of the warehouse began to become distant, he gave a content smile.

"Ahhh...what a good fight. I wonder what I should do about these drugs, though..."




Yamata gave a relaxed sigh as she took another puff of her opium pipe and sunk further into her personal bubbling bath. It was a new addition to her abode, smuggled in from the mortal world. Yesterday had been a good night - she hadn't had to deal with a single fight from a rowdy, addicted customer or a raid from a rival gang. It was just her, this curious bubbling water, and her pipe.

Suddenly, the door burst open, flying off the hinges as a blood-soaked man in a kimono strolls in.

"YAMATA-CHAN, DO YA WANT SOME DRUGS?!"

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Pub: 18 Mar 2025 01:22 UTC

Edit: 18 Mar 2025 01:37 UTC

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