THE ARCHAIC SKY

CHAPTER: THE PROTECTOR OF YOKAI

"but now my fight is only with you"

"hah.. that makes it worse" he let out a loud haughty laugh. There was an aura around him. the filth of yokai energy. The other yokai watched in glee. Snickering under their breaths. How can this nanny be so bold against the pride of the oni? The great ganglord of the north who terrorizes civillians, feared by the lords.

She slowly turned around, leaning her back against the table they played on. "you really have no idea who I am, do you?" Amara picked herself up, practically strutting to the high chair in the middle of the room. A throne meant for the head of the yokai. Nurarihyon. No where to be seen. Even though he was the one who summoned her. "you have about a dozen men here... you'll need more than that to even graze me"

"you arrogant- that's meant for-"

"oh I know who it's meant for" she took a single hair pin she left in her hair. In her hand it transformed into a smoking pipe. Already heated and letting out purple smoke. She breathed in the filth and let out glowing air. Her head fell light and her mind at peace. She giggled, placing her chin on one hand. "... shuten doji"

His eyes widened. "how d'you know that name?"

"oh little shuten doji, finally think he's grown after running away" she cooed. "you must be wondering, where is my mask? Where are my men? Where is the person I'm meant to meet?" the air fell silent. The tengu warriors brandished their blades.

The lantern's glow dimmed. Blanketed by a shadow, the yokais' eyes shone like otherworldly flames. What was she doing? A human in a yokai's domain. No matter what she is, a human could never beat that which was close to divinity.

Unless she was one herself.

"speak your name, maiden"

"I already told you my name, tengu" she looked at the leader of the birds who helf a hauchiwa. A magical feather fan Amara always wanted to steal from them. sojobo ajari. The lord of the tengu in all of Jinsei. Her long white hair as shiny as the blade that the boy she trained held. A famous samurai, even more famous than the tengu herself.

All the lights in the realm suddenly dimmed. Mist flowed above the ground. the domain was like an infinite castle of rooms and corridors and stairs. Twisting and spinning that standing seemed off in another angle. The rooms shifted again. All but the throne and the elegant festive folding screen.

"Amara, the seventh herald, the harbinger"

Amara remembered when she first met the commander of the yokai. She was left alone at the library again. Having nothing of note to do. Her seikatsu sisters had all left for training or to complete missions. She on the other hand were left to roam the halls. Count the paintings and tapestries on the walls. Name all the plants in the gardens both within and outside the walls.

Then she met an old man. None of the maids seemed to recognize nor acknowledge his being there, but she did. On his back was a single samurai blade. He drank tea, a kind of tea Amara disliked. Bitter and odorless. He also seemed to be doing calligraphy with only a single hand. His brush strokes bold and calm, as if he's done this a thousand times. Doing so, he looked like he owned the estate. "who are you?"

There was an other worldly air around him. his eyes a kind of dead that Amara has never seen in the seikatsu, a void of bleak beady eyes. "I am just a man from a retired samurai family, I am no one of note"

"then why are you here?" his hair was grey, bits of the black it once was peeked through the faded white. Wrinkles decorated his stern face. He wore very traditional, loose fitting robes with a long-sleeved, brown haori. "you're not supposed to be here, grandpa"