A Fox's Whisper

11. Ҝ卂乙ㄩ卄卂

The thrill of a fight is incomparable. The adrenaline, the heightened senses, the blood pounding in your ears. I've fought many battles, gaining both wisdom and experience through them. I once heard an old wizened samurai say we learn little from victory, but much from defeat.

As much as I agree with that, now wasn't an ideal time to fail. I wouldn't be able to last much longer.

My limbs were growing heavy while the speed of the yokai never once faltered.
Their smoky animalistic stench made it hard to breathe, and their motions were so irregular I could find no pattern to follow. Were it not for the shifting of the wind around us which I could easily read, I would've died very quickly.

I swung my sword at a downward angle into the skull of a yokai. Dark blood spurted in an arc across my clothing and skin. I had no time to react before another yokai set upon me, claws in my hair, digging at my scalp. I cried out and yanked it off, hurling it against a tree.

I ducked and dodged, stabbed and lunged. A yokai clutched at my foot. Another bit into my leg. I smashed the hilt of my sword down on the latter, and then maneuvered my sword into the ribs of the first one in a quick, diagonal slash. I tasted blood. I smelled blood. I could feel blood oozing down my skin. It was everywhere.

Focus, Kazuha.

The breath of the wind whispered urgently in my ear, telling me where to go next. Turn. Slash. Duck. Stab. Keep going, keep going. I seemed to become one with the air around me, the fluidity of my maneuvers felt natural and innate.

Yet despite the depth of my senses, I found that if I turned one way to kill a yokai, two more attacked me from behind. My skin was sliced and lacerated in numerous places from their claws, and with every new abrasion, my mobility lessened.

My lungs burned as I fought and struggled and clung to the hopes of getting away. I had no idea what was exactly going on, though my mind raced towards half-baked theories that I had no time to mull over.
I could only pray to the gods above that Inari had gotten out of this alive and that Sora was someone we could trust.
She had to be. After all, she'd had multiple times to leave us for dead.

I ducked behind a tree as a yokai came lunging out of the branches. It hit the trunk with a dull thud and squealed in pain. I had to get out of here.

I took off in an unknown direction, the wind singing through my ears. My feet hardly touched the ground I ran so fast, but I knew I was nearing the end of my stamina. I couldn't go much further. The yokai were in pursuit, moving much faster than I. The trees passed me in a blur, my sight grew fuzzy, my chest ached.

A sharp shooting pain jolted up my leg, and I faltered, sinking to the ground. My leg burned horribly from the yokai bite, and running had worsened it. I whipped my head around to find the yokai nearly upon me. Forcing myself to stand, I inhaled deeply. I could use a great store of elemental energy to get out of this predicament, but it would deplete any energy I had left, leaving me little leeway to flee. But I had no choice.

I steeled myself, adjusting the grip on the hilt of my blade. My muscles burned in protest as I swung my sword in a horizontal motion, feeling the strength of the wind surge through me, condensing across the length of the blade and outward into a great accumulation of Anemo energy.

Finding strength in my voice alone, I cried out in a steady tone, "Fallen leaves...adorn my night!" And the power of the wind that I'd felt flowing inside me flared to life in pale green tendrils with illusory maple leaves swept throughout in a whirlwind around me. The sheer force of the wind dragged the yokai from the trees and the ground, tossing them wildly to and fro.