Description: A little after being defeated and displaced out of the main tournament with Arisa, an undeterred and studious shugenja finds a nice cozy spot to report to -- ....?
"Ano.. I guess the veterans weren't ready for such a grim situation. What a shame, what a shame."
It was a little bit after the battle at the aquarium with the onmyouji. The boy trudged through the old abandoned rooms of the hotel, passing through an upper commons area. It was something of a minor expedition, after the battle with the mystic had resulted in a grim loss for him. Even worse yet, his mentor had gone AWOL. Something about holing herself up and demanding cookies? Or something? Homura wasn't quite paying attention to the broadcasts.
"Even so. It's probably for the best anyway. I suppose I never was a good student. I guess they'll figure I'm not that strong, either.."
The boy located in that commons area the site of what was likely at one point a proper continental breakfast, a fruit bowl long since pillaged and likely immolated lain filled with dust, or possibly ash. Upending the bowl to empty out its contents, the shugenja made a visible face.
"But that's OK. Being strong is about a little more than ---~'- a tournament, righ'~'~t?"
Though talking to no one in particular, the sound of his voice breaking into that sharp high pass flange was anathema to his attention being focused anywhere else, leaving the boy to contemplate the bowl, finally blowing the remaining dust from it.
"Ano.. this will have to do."
It took a moment to set the bowl to the ground, to inscribe the proper formulas, to say the right prayers. But by the time the boy clasped his hands together, the entire gravity of the room had shifted, a line of powerful moonlit energy threading through it.
They arrived one by one, ghostly silhouettes flickering into existence around him. There were no actual faces to be put to the shadows, the outline of each one appearing as men in robes, each one appearing mostly similar to eachother, save for their distance from the boy, and the colors of their eyes. The harsh pop and click of their voices resounded sharply inside Homura's head.
The first to speak was a black-eyed ghost, whose silhouette
swiftly produced a spherical object from his clothes.
[ The Kishinki instrumentality variance is off by .06. Adjusting
adjunct chakra... ]
The second to speak was a shape whom seemed to have no eyes at
all, instead replaced by the reflection of a visor.
= The firebird wasn't a foreseen factor. To move freely as we had
before under this new encumbrance won't be possible. =
The last silhouette was distant, an intense thing with golden eyes.
His voice was the furthest of all, and dripped with ire.
< Tch. 'Suzaku...' another vain, self-styled god, passing judgment
and mistaking brutality for wisdom and authority. >
[ Eliminating the threat with 'that power' is still possible ...
however, instrumentality will dictate whether our fire will
burn hotter. ]
= No.. our goals take primacy above brinksmanship. The
lens of Amaterasu only has one purpose in our mission.
A barrier is of no consequence to us. Until our purpose is
realized, the vermillion saint will wait. =
[ Has the Kishinki successfully located the objectives? ]
Homura found himself speaking, absent thought.
" Ano.. the onmyouji is so spicy and cute! But... as
dastardly as she is, I suppose we can rule her out as
'an innocent.' And, without her, the number of
zainin on the island is equal to two. One has not yet
shown face, the other seems well protected. "
< If we look on the barrier as fortuitous, our targets are
cut off from reinforcements or escape. For now. >
= But that window will inevitably close.. =
[ Shugenja. Your armament is insufficient for the current
aggression level. As the prior weapon was lost, we are
binding a replacement weapon to your instrumentality. ]
< In addition, there are other sources of power we can call
upon. At one time, a zainin of great renown operated an
establishment on the piers of the island. We've isolated a
powerful weapon's signature there. Locate it. >
= And do so quickly, time is of the essence. Now, kneel
and perform the unsealing. We have work to do... =
The boy nodded silently, obediently. He kneeled without a sound, performing the insou, his hands knitting together in a triumvirate of fast gestures. The first, to still the senses and harmonize with the world. The second, to harmonize the chakra with the formless. The third, to create the union between all three. The shugenja thrust his hands downward, and the symbology bloomed, the searing, glowing lines weaving outwards to trace powerful, new arcs.
With the unsealing came the promise. At the nexus of lines, the ground leapt, and a massive gout of incensed dust blew upwards. The sound of metal slamming into dirt coalesced into a low pitched hum for several seconds as the boy stood, the ghosts winking out of existence one by one around him.
Before him was a brand new katana, gleaming in the dark.
Log created on 22:41:25 07/12/2024 by Homura, and last modified on 05:41:36 07/13/2024.