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“’Tis a sin tah suffer such a numbskull as ye live,” Captain Fang said, “but it appears we be a perfectly even match. Ye know as well as I do ’tis futile tah resort tah our mother element.” The pirate could barely stand in his exhaustion and was leaning on his sabre. Sasha was also down to his last reserves of energy. He was poised low on the ground, ever ready to strike with his shinobuken held horizontally in front of him, his left hand behind. “Were we in a trainin’ dojo where ye’ve been raised,” the captain said, “no one would claim victory… BUT HITHER IS NOT A DOJO!” Captain Fang thrust his amputated right arm and released the harpoon on the end of it. As a matter of fact, Sasha had earlier grabbed a handful of salt when he tumbled forward across a drying pan. Now he swung his left hand from behind him and flung the salt to the captain’s eyes like a sumo wrestler purifying the ring. Sasha felt a certain amount of pleasure when he heard the captain utter a pained squeal. In a s
Yuriko poked her head inside the hole in the roof. The building was a temple. Its ceiling was high above the floor and the whole place, although spacious, was empty. There were plenty of Everlite crystals to keep the temple well-lit. She regretted that she didn’t bring a grappling hook. She made the hand seal of Pyō the Great Thunderbolt to execute a Kyūbanjutsu (Suction Pad). It was one trick she inherited from her clan and had been useful during her stint as a cat burglar, till she scaled the hull of Captain Fang’s ship and became a stowaway. She channeled her ki to the soles of her feet and created partial vacuums on them so they would stick to any flat surface. The suction was enough to let her stand completely upside-down on the temple’s ceiling, her braided hair hanging down from her scalp. “Thanks for dropping in.” Yuriko gasped. Aki was across from her and also upside down. With the better lighting, she looked formidable in her white Slayer suit, at ease and back in her ele
Aki leapt from roof to roof. Her tabi boots touched the tiles lightly before pushing off. She was harnessing Karamijutsu (Body-lightening). Without warning, a tile she was stepping on broke and she slid straight down to the edge of the roof, only managing to grab the gutter in the nick of time. She was dangling there when Yuriko appeared on the incline, just a few feet away, crouching and fanning out a set of throwing knives. Apparently, she had launched a projectile that broke Aki’s foothold. “Fancy a prince tah rescue ye, princess?” “I’m not a princess,” Aki replied through gritted teeth. “I’m a SLAYER princess!” With a back flip, Aki brought herself upside-down with her legs spinning in a wheel kick. Yuriko held her forearms up in an X shape and the casings of her katars blocked the kicks. Aki landed right in front of her. They were soon locked in hand-to-hand combat; something rare for Stork Slayers who emphasized defense over offense, evasion over brute strength. Yuriko projec
“What took you?” Koumori-shishou asked. The old man remained seated on the driftwood, his back still turned and exposed to the newcomers though all three of his students had sprung to their feet. “Cor blimey! Whar be our manners?” Captain Fang said sarcastically, drawing a water-saber that he instantaneously generated out of an empty, solid scabbard. “Apologies fer keepin’ ye waitin’.” The saber was made possible by the Undina Clan’s Mizu Funsha no Jutsu (Water Stream), which produced a very high-pressure jet of water that was as strong and sharp as regular katana. “Well,” Koumori-shishou said, “we would not be very good Slayers if we threw away fifteen minutes of head start, would we?” “Maybe you’re just stupid,” Ganzorig said. “It was precisely the light in your pipe that led us here.” “Death on a hook is food in the eyes of a fish.” “Be ye sayin’ ye lured us out here, ye treacherous cur?” Captain Fang roared. “This shall nah end well fer ye.” “As I be a soul,” Kosano said, “
They sat around Koumori-shishou on the moonlit beach. Like real students, Aki thought excitedly. Sasha had returned to his human form and was still half-naked. Apparently, shrinking back down was relatively easier than blowing up to the fearsome scale of Dragonkist Ryūjin. The master sat on a large piece of driftwood. He took off the tunic-like uniform of the Dark Emperor and revealed his usual attire underneath: the saffron robe and pom-pommed surplice of the hermit monks, the Yamabushis. From inside his sleeve, he drew out his shakujō staff with the six rings. Like Aki’s bō staff, it could be retracted and extended. Next, from his slightly hunched back, he produced his straw conical hat and placed it on top of his head. Finally, he unclipped his one-toothed geta sandals from his belt and put them on. He was completely transformed. Aki clapped and Sasha muttered, “Wow.” Koumori-shishou bowed with a flourish. “You’re a true master of disguise, shishou,” Aki complimented. The monk
From the strong rocking movements, Aki could tell they were on a small boat. Her captors were using oars. All at once, the bag was pulled from over her head and the wind coating was removed from her mouth. “Get your stinking hands off me or I swear you’ll lose them!” Aki blinked to adjust her eyes. It was still night. Have they arrived in Dragon’s Horn already? “Spoken like a true warrior-princess,” said a familiar voice. Aki couldn’t believe it. She strained her eyes in the dark. “Temujin?” she blurted out. “That’s right. It’s me.” “But I thought…” “I had some help,” he said, gesturing to a second figure behind him. Aki let out a frightened gasp. In the pale moonlight, she could make out the Dark Emperor! “Oh, don’t be alarmed!” Temujin said. “It’s just my master, Koumori-shishou.” To Aki’s great consternation, the Dark Emperor swept back his hood and took off his iron dragon mask. An old man with slanted eyes and a long wispy beard like a mountain goat’s was beaming at her