Stillness given Motion (Itsuki, Grandmei)
A day has passed, and it was already night of his second day suspended.
He was sent on his first actual mission by Reiji, not just some errand, but a full-blown mission with stakes at hand. He didn’t like how he had to invade a building with moderate security, but Itsuki still did it.
Itsuki slipped through the shadows.
He was not the best stalker, nor the most dexterous, but he had enough skill not to get caught immediately by security guards and the sparse cameras of the building.
His form blended with shadows, momentarily shown in quick flashes by the stray lightbulb or flashlight, only for him to vanish again.
The words said by Reiji echoed in his head. ‘There’s a special condition on the rise, it is nearly supernatural in effects.’
Itsuki slipped into another shadow as he moved.
Just as slicky, as shady, as the one he served, for now.
‘If it is supernatural in nature, even as I loathe to admit it, there may be value in searching for an object, a relic if you will. It can restore someone’s health, making them even healthier, cure sickness, and even fatal diseases, or so the tales go.’
Itsuki found it stupid, but hey. It wouldn’t be his first rodeo in a stupid adventure with the supernatural. Nor his last.
The talk with his contractor had a visceral air to it, even if non-violent words were spoken, even if no aggressiveness was outwardly shown.
‘I wish you to retrieve it for me, so it can be tested. It is worth a shot.’
A light flashed against his blue eyes, its glimmer momentary, fleeting, but it helped Itsuki ground himself in the now.
Reiji’s shadow is like dark wings over him, always watching, making sure he doesn’t misstep or commit a mistake that could cost his contractor anything.
‘You? of all people? Superstitious? Ha! There is a first for everything in this world.’
_‘Even I am forced to admit that there may be things greater in this world, far beyond my comprehension. Given your answer, I think you didn’t take my words as the ramblings of a rich man, but rather as factual truth. I wonder, why?’
The air was heavy with the scent of blood and death, so heavy it made Itsuki choke with it, the taste of copper spread in his mouth. It permeated the room, like an infection.
There was something more to it; he would get to the bottom of it, but there was no time for investigation or questions in that moment.
Itsuki departed to finish his mission. Later, he could question Reiji and answer him in earnest.
Soon, he got into the room with the relic. It was shaped like a teardrop, a large teardrop the size of someone’s hand. It shone with a faint teal glimmer.
It was surprisingly empty, with no guards or cameras he could spot. Were all museums this lacking in their security? To be honest, Itsuki never went out of Kageoka or explored other places, so it was hard to tell.
The only other thing in the room was quite strange. A type of mummified monkey, on the ground. It used long flowing clothes, a type of Chinese fashion. Why was it on a dead monkey? The hell if he knew.
Was it supposed to be on the ground?
Stranger still, it stared at the relic Itsuki was there to steal.
_ ‘Whatever’_ It was not his problem what the museum did to its relics or mummified animals.
Itsuki walked over to the relic and grabbed it easily.
“Hey, youngster, what do you think you are doing?” Suddenly, the mummy spoke.
Wait.
“Since when do mummies speak?” Itsuki talked, baffled, and even his eyes showed his surprise and concern. The idea world was one thing, his… paranormal activities were another.
But never did something so supernaturally blatant happen so openly in the real world.
His words angered the mummy(?), who picked a staff from the shadows and smacked him on the head.
His confusion grew. “From where did that staff even come from?” Itsuki was sure he hadn’t seen it.
The mummy(?) stared at Itsuki with wide eyes; she was not expecting him to act so nonchalantly.
“This was unexpected. Ahem. Handle the relic; it is important for my granddaughter and her friends.” A vein jumped underneath Itsuki’s eye.
“No way. You stood there for quite some time and didn’t grab it. It is mine. I need it for my… contractor.” Itsuki thought about calling Reiji his boss, but the thought didn’t sit well with him. Maybe if Reiji turned out not to be as shady a person as he portrayed himself to be.
Ha, as if there was a chance of that happening.
“I was pondering if it was worth stealing it. But since you grabbed it, now I have no time to think but to grab it.” The mummy(?) hit the end of her staff against the ground.
“Try again. I need to deliver it to my boss.” Itsuki felt a funny feeling in his gut. The same emotion he got before he fell into another brawl in the past.
He held the relic tightly against his chest. “I will warn you only once, youngster: I need this relic for my granddaughter’s sake.” Their wills clashed. Itsuki gave her a sly smile and opened his mouth; hot steam came out of his mouth.
His fangs exposed, eyes focused like a hunter. “Try me, old hag.”
She sighed. “Way to talk to a lady, stupid youngster. Since you won’t listen to anything but strength…” Itsuki had no time to think; she swiped at him with her staff, and he seldom had time to parry it, using his elbow to intercept the hit.
The impact rippled through him; it reverberated through his bones and traveled through his marrow.
If he were relatively normal, it would be a nasty and painful hit to parry.
With his only good arm, Itsuki answered her in kind. His arm swiped at her, his fists balled like demolition balls. The hag widened her eyes as Itsuki’s wipe grazed her long white hair.
She dodged out of the hit, but Itsuki didn’t relent; he stepped in and attacked her. He advanced with mechanical efficiency.
The hag saw how he acted. There was no emotion on his part; his mind wasn’t all there. His body went through the motions; he knew the fighting moves, but there was no intent there, rather than lukewarm acknowledgment that he would be causing pain.
Her eyes became half-lidded, focusing entirely on Itsuki. Did he think he had a chance of fighting her, with such mild interest in fighting? It wouldn’t fly, not against her.
She gathered her bearings and countered Itsuki. She deflected his fist away with her staff, and then jumped in the air, using the other end of the staff to tap Itsuki on his chest, right over his solar plexus, and then pressed it gently against it, feeling resistance as she pushed, like it had a slight blockade in it, but she paid no mind.
Itsuki felt air escape his lungs. His muscles suddenly tensed up, his body trembled against his will, and it forced him to kneel. “What?” He managed to spit out words through ragged breaths, a smug forming on the hag’s face.
“This is a pressure point technique, taught in China for five thousand years of history! You and your boring fighting style cannot hope to compare to it. Now, if you excuse this lady, she will be taking the relic with her.” For a moment, Itsuki blinked.
What did China have to do with them? Why suddenly talk about it? Pressure Points? Like in anime and manga? Five thousand years of history?
Screw it.
“You are going to need to do more to stop me.” Itsuki didn’t care about what she said, but if his body didn’t follow him, then he would force it to move. He smacked himself in the chest with his free hand, right where she applied the pressure point.
Each time, his punch grew stronger, faster, with more intent to hurt, hollow as it was. The hag looked over him, curious. “What do you think you are doing, youngster?”
Itsuki smiled at her. “Breaking this pressure point of a thousand years or whatever you said.” With a last point, Itsuki heard and felt something pop inside of him. A rush of adrenaline washed over him like the crashing waves.
His body felt the best it ever was, with so much strength and power, he felt like a superhero. A strained smile formed on his lips, his body shaking with energy.
Suddenly, his body felt like it was on fire, a warm and wet sensation permeated beneath his skin, like a liquid inferno, but he felt movement return to him; he was freed to battle again. The mix of power, of the heat, of this sensation circulating in his veins, was magnificent. So much it even managed to breach through his hazy thoughts and indolent body, it made him feel alive again.
The hag jumped out of there, preemptively, but Itsuki was faster. He kicked her staff with all his strength. It sent her flying against a wall, with a loud bang echoing behind her.
His body heat skyrocketed; it fumed. He had no idea of what he had done, but it made him feel like he was in a desert, burning.
“Dare you say that again?” The hag questioned.
“You will need more than this, whatever millennia technique you have, and more than those pressure points. I have just broken one.” He laughed; it was fake, but it suited the moment.
The hag held her staff tighter. “What big words you just said, I hope you can back them up, boy.”
They lunged at each other. Staff collided against his hand. They continued lunging at each other, trading blows. Hers landed on Itsuki’s body, but he at most just grazed her hair or clothes.
She saw there was no will in his body. Despite his movements, he was still. His fighting spirit was stilled and stunted; no matter how violent he was, there was no way for him to hit someone who fought for real, not a man who did the motions of a brawl without understanding why or putting thought into it.
He could cause hurt, but his mind, will, and heart weren’t even there behind his moves. He wasted his entire motion by not thinking.
Because of his lack of thought, he was easy to predict, despite skill and experience, but it also made him ungodly durable, so much that her hits didn’t even register in his mind, much less his body.
‘He also ruptured a pressure point.’ He fumed, his body temperature unregulated, he brute forced through her block.
It needed more than will to do that, more than just resistance to pain.
She had a devious thought.
She started to check him as they collided.
She saw his pressure points; she hit them, gauged how well the boy was.
They were all clogged and rusted beyond belief. A life of recklessness and death-defying stunts, one after another, made them extremely numb and unable to perform properly, like rusted, clogged pipes.
No wonder he felt no hit. He pushed himself so hard and so past his limits, there was no pressure to be felt, no emotion or new sensation to be had.
‘Wait, he just ruptured the pressure point on his solar plexus?’ It took a moment for her to realize what he had done, stupid as it was.
How did he not die of a hemorrhage or even of his own heart stopping? Wait.
He was fuming.
Consuming energy.
Was he using Terminal Lucidity to fight harder?
This was insanity.
Total and utter insanity.
But it was not unheard of. She saw it a few times. There was time for her to do something to this stupid boy, avoiding his recklessness from leading him to an early grave.
“Listen here, you brat.” She pounced on him. She dropped her staff and pulled up her sleeves. Her fingers pressed one of his pressure points, unclogging it, letting energy flow, and immediately locking it up.
Itsuki felt a small pang in his body. The rush of power he felt vanished a little, a small diminishment, but one felt clearly.
“You fight sloppily. You know the moves, the motions,” She said with a stern voice, not lecturing him, no, it was a sermon. “But you have no intent.” Itsuki threw a punch at her, but she masterfully dodged it and touched another pressure point.
Rather than just a small touch, Itsuki felt as if he was hit by a truck; it greatly slowed him down, and he felt sluggish, like he wore weighted clothes.
But she didn’t stop there; she applied more and more pressure points.
This pang he felt throughout his whole body, muscles tensing up and locking up. “You cannot make yourself care about what you are doing. If you don’t care about what you do, how do you hope to put up a fight when things matter the most?”
Itsuki tried to headbutt her, but she touched the top of his forehead. He felt his mind reach a scary level of lucidity and feelings, but he had enough focus to keep himself steady, to focus on the fight, but he lost all movement, as old emotions and new ones fought to get in his mind.
Itsuki fell to his knees.
“You are so indolent, it makes me sick. You don’t care about anything, not even yourself, or the reason you are taking this relic. It is pathetic. What do you want to accomplish living like this? Without goals, without connections.” With one last move, she reached for the pressure point in his solar plexus again and forcefully locked it up, not just unclogging it, but making sure it wouldn't eventually kill the boy before her.
She grabbed the relic out of his hand, which relaxed. “Think about it.”
Itsuki watched as she walked away. There was not a single thing he could do to change the situation.
He pondered on her words.
He fought sloppily? Who was she to say that about him? He endured so much, he learned how to fight on the streets, through experience carved in his living flesh. He had the skill, the knowledge, the experience…
Yet, when he watched others fight, even move to help others, there was an intent there. Something he felt he lost long ago, no, he knew he had lost it.
In all fights, there was emotion, fear, adrenaline, rage, despair, the thrill of the hunt… but there was nothing in his moves.
No, this couldn’t be.
She was not right.
The despair instilled in him started to open his eyes.
He didn’t care.
He helped Momo because she beat him and recruited him, but… he didn’t care about her motives, her reasons, beyond lip service and not seeing her as that bad or evil, someone he could follow without worry.
She could follow her because it was easy, not because he chose. He agreed with her recruitment and stopped thinking there, and after the fight, too.
He relegated his thoughts about the Fujiwara ward, the gang, and everything to her.
Momo was his boss, but… they were subordinate and boss, not friends, like she was with Madoka, Fumiko, Kanna-p…
No.
No.
No.
No.
NO!
This couldn’t be.
He had intent; he had some will to accomplish things. He did accomplish things… but what were those things?
He couldn't think of a single thing he had accomplished while serving Momo, helping her, despite their relationship.
He didn’t accomplish anything; in truth, he was just enabled to engage in more mindless violence, without question or worry.
He watched her prepare to get away, that crone who locked him up.
He remembered why he was there.
To fulfill a mission given to him by Reiji.
It reminded him: he had just gotten an apartment.
A part of him screamed that a material gift couldn’t compare to Momo, to her as a person, their time together, how much good he did to the community by following the Fujiwara-Senki.
But it was a mindless pursuit; his heart and his mind were not there. He just did what he was told and expected to do while in a blind goose chase.
Then, he remembered when he stole that simple sparring tool.
He had to face himself, his morality, do something bad, and that he didn’t agree with, beat up good people for no other reason than to fulfill his agenda.
But it was a choice he had made.
He made a choice, put intent in there.
In hindsight, it was no different from his relationship with Sumi. He hated her now, because she forced him to face himself, but this, this?
All that hate, the angst, the wrath he felt, made him lash out at Yaya.
It was not his best moment, but it was a choice, a primal one born out of his frustration and pain, but it was a choice.
Choice.
Choice.
He had to choose now.
Continue mindlessly, or give a damn about anything.
This was a mission given to him. Reiji hinged on him fulfilling it.
Someone else trusted him with something so delicate.
He accepted it, so at the very least, he should give a damn and give his all, for the first time in so long.
The hag was taken aback as the teardrop started to shake and tremble, glowing brighter with its teal hue.
As for Itsuki, he struggled with all his might.
Something swelled in him, although he couldn’t tell exactly what. He pushed himself against his bindings; he pushed himself until he could feel his muscles tear and break, his teeth grinding.
His body trembled with impossible strength, and a growing rage motivated him to go past his limits. Soon, each paralyzing pressure point gave way with such loud pops that even the crone heard it.
She was forced to turn back and stare at Itsuki’s form. He was up and standing. His chest rising and falling with the glow of the teardrop, eyes filled with seething rage, with a golden glimmer in them.
His body burned up again, but this time the hag felt no bad thing about it; her gut instinct told her to trust whatever was happening before her eyes.
She stared at the teardrop, and then at Itsuki, seeing the glow matching his breathing. And more than that, the intent, the raw sheer intent in his eyes.
To retrieve the teardrop and to beat her.
She grinned. The boy had a head on his shoulders, not a good one, but he had one, enough to metabolize her words, but still miss enough of them to pull this stunt off.
She threw the teardrop at him, who caught it with his hand, and then lunged at her.
Itsuki felt searing hot pain SCREAM through his body, so much that his mind wanted to fade out, it was so much pain that he wanted a way out, but he had no way out.
Not now.
So, he advanced instead.
He clashed against her, as the teardrop shone brighter and brighter. Her hits landed on him, causing him so much pain that they almost drove him to his knees and out of breath multiple times.
He was forced to relearn how to dodge, not to get hit, as they continued their squabble.
Soon, she heard guards approaching; it was time to finish the fight. She readied her hands to knock out the boy and moved faster than he could see.
Her hands were nearly touching his face with a balled fist.
For some reason, perhaps due to the fear of relearned pain, Itsuki moved instinctively and landed a headbutt on her hand. It hit her hand and her torso, but sadly, made the punch land squarely on his face.
It knocked him out, but also hit her, as the teardrop finally lost all of its glimmer.
He fell unconscious.
Itsuki opened his eyes. He breathed hard. The act of breathing made his chest hurt, and his body jerked in pain. Everything was in pain. He sat on the futon and looked around.
He had no idea where he was. His body was covered in bandages. Itsuki heard someone obnoxiously slurping on a drink on his side. He looked at it to see the hag from before.
Itsuki tried to move, to get at her, but his body hissed in pain, it made one of his eyes close. “Fuck.” He cursed as the hag chastised him.
“Don't curse.”
“What happened? Why am I here? Who are you, hag?” Itsuki hissed at her, but she merely laughed.
“I'm just an old woman running a shop. I just took you here before the guards could get to you, youngster.” For the moment, Itsuki accepted her answers, as he checked how he was patched up.
It made sense.
“Why did you help me?” Now, this was the most important question. They just fought each other, why help him of all people?
“You earned my interest. You are a crazy boy, but you are an interesting one.” She gauged him from head to toe. “I am here to extend and offer, if you ever want to become more… I am open to each of you, hone your skills.”
“Hey, monkey mummy, you beat me up, and then say you want to teach me? What is wrong with you? Are you related to the Chikata family somehow?”
“Oi! Who are you calling a Monkey mummy?” She hit him on the head with her staff.
This time, Itsuki felt the pain, his eyes nearly jumping, as aching pain burned from the top of his head.
“You hag!” Itsuki grabbed her by her sleeves and started to brawl with her.
“Hey gran-gran, I brought some tea for your guest-” Mei entered the room and soon saw her grandma, brawling against a shirtless young man, patched up with his whole torso covered in bandages.
He was handsome, but all that handsomeness wasn’t factored in as she saw her grandma brawl against him. That was awkward.
She turned and walked away.,