Chapter Text
“O Lord of Karasumori! We have brought to you the first born of the 37th generation of the Sumimura Family.” His previous retainer, now an old man, stated before holding up the baby boy.
(- He doesn’t seem that interesting. -)
“Hopefully, he’ll be chosen, right?” The baby’s father whispered to the mother. “If we don’t have a Successor in the family father will have a hard time.”
(- Wait. ‘If they don’t have a Successor’? They aren’t going to make any more babies? …Last time I waited for a more interesting retainer. And lost the girl… I definitely won’t do that this time. -)
The spiritual energy built up around the baby and after a while, it finally settled around it’s right hand.
“Oh! Thank you for your blessings!” The previous Successor exclaimed, seeing the Houin, “Thank you, Lord of Karasumori!”
…
(- He’s horrible! -)
The 22nd Successor ran around, expressionless, and destroyed all the ayakashi with a single ketsu.
(- So boring! The stupid Sumimuras! How dare they con the great Lord into choosing an unworthy Successor! -)
…
(- She looks entertaining! -)
The Yukimura family head also held up their first born. But this time, the baby looked fairly interesting!
But no. No, absolutely not. The great Lord was not going to be deceived again.
The spiritual energy converged around the baby, it built up and up, and then finally dissipated to the surroundings. Leaving the baby’s bare and unmarked chest.
…
The brother of the 22nd, Yoshi, came to Karasumori some nights. Sometimes for light training with the weaker ayakashi and sometimes just to bring his brother food.
(- Perfect! He’s so perfect! Uuuugh, I want him to be my retainer! Stupid Sumimuras! They conned me out of TWO great retainers! The 36th girl was also great! Muuuu! -)
Nobody noticed that strong ayakashi never approached the boy. He wasn’t a Successor after all, he could die in Karasumori.
And Chuushinmaru would not lose his interesting person. He just wished that there was someone to vent his dissatisfaction to, it was always boring in the castle. Sadly, there was no way his voice would reach the weak kekkaishi who could not see his power.
(- But then again... -) He considered, watching Yoshi who was so enthralled looking at the sparkly threads of spiritual power that came out of the ground by Chuushinmaru’s will.
(- I might have found someone to talk to -)
…
“Mom! He’s doing it again!” Yoshimori cried, running to jump on his mom.
“Who’s doing what, Yoshi?” She asked smiling slightly. Yoshimori looked at her teary-eyed before pointing to his head.
“Chuushinmaru! He keeps talking, I can’t concentrate on my kekkai!” He complained. What could he do if the Lord chose big bro? It wasn’t Yoshimori’s fault! And what did ‘con’ even mean?
“Don’t encourage his imaginary friend excuses, Sumiko.” Grandpa grouched from the entrance, “Yoshimori might not be the Legitimate Successor, but he will still be a full-fledged kekkaishi, that I will make sure of. And kekkaishi from the noble Sumimura family don’t lie to run away from training!”
Mom smiled tight-lipped at the old man but still carried Yoshimori up and started walking out of the house.
“Don’t be like that, father. Look; his concentration has already been broken, you’ll train him another time.” She said as she closed the door behind her, “In the meanwhile, I’ll take him out for ice-cream.”
‘Mom, go!’ Yoshimori thought happily. Really, it was only mom who believed in him. And thank god, because he couldn’t go through the sleepless nights and days spent trying to concentrate with the endless chatter in his head if nobody understood him.
(- She really is great, isn’t she? -) Chuushinmaru piped in, (- I almost chose her as a Successor you know! If only they didn’t deceive me like that… For such a great retainer, Tokimori really chose horrible heirs to his legacy. -)
“Hey, mom?” Yoshimori asked, “Who’s Tokimori?”
Mom smiled silently in response.
When Yoshimori woke up, he still felt the complete whiteness that he had seen in his dreams. Much like his slowly getting perfected Shinkai. Just whiter. And brighter. He wondered what seeing that in his dreams could have meant.
It was in that state of drowsy contemplation that he noticed something strange. Very, very strange.
Said strangeness was on his right hand. And it didn’t seem to be going away. Not to mention that it was a very realistic strangeness.
Yoshimori stared blankly at his flexing hand. He stared some more.
Was that spiritual power coming out of the strangeness?
The kekkaishi closed his right hand one last time before taking a final peek inside. Nope. The Houin was still there.
“GYYAAAAAAAAAAAA!” He screamed in reaction, a very understandable one in his humble opinion, and ran to the bathroom because he was going to take this drawing off of his hand.
There was no way he would be dealing with the brat for his whole life. Nope. This was just a very realistic drawing. Yes, a prank. It was not the real Houin. Nope. Nope. Nope. Not even if Yoshimori could feel the power coursing around in it. Not at all.
The little lord brat was Masamori’s responsibility. Not his.
But unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, the trip to the bathroom put some other priorities to the front of his still sleepy mind. Like the fact that he was at least eight years younger. Or like the fact that he was in a house. Even though he hadn’t seen civilization in months.
Yoshimori stared at his immature and scarless face in the mirror and thought his predicament over. Okay. Three problems; he had the Houin, he was a middle-schooler and he was in a traditional Japanese house.
That was easy. They had solved more problems than twice that in one go. Now he only had to do one thing to get through this:
Find Tokine.
What? He was the fighter and the decision-maker. The thinker of their group was indisputably and unchangeably Tokine.
And where was she anyway? Not to mention Gen. The half-ayakashi should have found him with that beloved nose of his by now. Even if he was in the past or suddenly in civilization or for some reason with a Houin.
Maybe, Yoshimori was expecting too much of Gen. Maybe.
Anyways, he couldn’t really do anything right now, so he might as well scout out where he was. Yoshimori got out of the bathroom and back to where he had woken up. The room looked very… nostalgic. Probably because it was uncannily similar to the one from his childhood. He didn’t honestly have many good memories in it.
Mostly the bratty lord chattering. The bratty lord complaining. Oh, some late-night chatting with Tokine. But then more complaints. Playing cards with his family, the only peaceful family gathering ever. And then more chatter.
Yeah. Mostly memories of Chuushinmaru.
He threw disgruntled look at the futon, what was he supposed to do with it? He had been away from home for the last fifteen or so years and hadn’t seen anything more Japanese than a sushi for more than five. If memory served him well, there should be a cupboard somewhere to tuck the bed in.
Oh well, Yoshimori thought, nothing to do about that now. And if this was, if and only if, his childhood house with his father and grandfather and brothers…
Well, now seemed like a good time to tuck his emotions in and use Musou to deal with life.
When Yoshimori came down for breakfast, Shuji seemed to be the only one to be worried. But of course, that was to be expected of a father. He had after all, although he wouldn’t ever admit it, raised his two youngest sons almost completely alone. The father was not in the slightest unfamiliar with their moods and habits.
And this, whatever the mood swing this was, worried him. It was all little hints and slight changes pointing at a worrying something. But what something?
For one, Yoshi was awake. Not that he didn’t seem sleepy, no, but the boy was aware of his surroundings. He looked, for some reason, keenly wary. And that was scary, because Yoshimori was never keen, simply because he didn’t have reason to be, especially not in his own house.
“Good morning, Yoshi!” Shuji smiled cheerfully and put some eggs in front of the bemused boy who was unabashedly observing his father, “Here you go, have your breakfast before going off to school.”
“Thank you, father.” His son smiled slightly and the man was practically hit with a sense of wrongness because since when was Yoshi this calm and cold, since when did he call Shuji ‘father’ instead of ‘dad’ but mostly…
Oh god, Yoshimori looked like his wife. He looked like Sumiko.
And the father was rather embarrassed to admit that such a thought terrified him so much he nearly dropped the pan.
Yoshimori smiled just a very little bit more at his father’s antics, but didn’t otherwise react. And this too was such a Sumiko-like reaction, so much unlike how the Yoshimori from yesterday would have either laughed uproariously or rushed to help him, that Shuji could cry.
But he didn’t. He acted normal, as if nothing was wrong, and continued to ignore the change throughout the family breakfast. That didn’t, however, stop him from noting the discreet glances Yoshimori sent at Masamori’s empty seat. Or the unending clenching of his hand.
Only after everyone went back to their own activities did Shuji go after Father.
“Father, it’s me.” He announced, entering the calligraphy room quietly.
“Shuji-san?” The old man exclaimed, surprised. “Is there something wrong? You usually don’t come in here.”
“Yes, well, I wouldn’t want to disturb you.” He said ashamed and rubbed the back of his head before steeling himself to continue, “I just wanted to ask… Did Yoshimori have any training accidents recently?”
“Training accidents?” Shigemori repeated, looking confused, “Oh, he scratched his arm last night bu-”
“Not like that.” Shuji interrupted uncharacteristically, the foreboding conversation was making him nervous, “Accidents like… like the one you told me Sumiko had had…”
“Oh.” Father frowned, “No, he isn’t even aware of that technique. There’s no way for him to have trained in Musou, let alone so long as to get stuck in it. Why, Shuji-san? For you to ask something like this so out of the blue…”
“No, it’s nothing.” The man answered, the cold and unfeeling eyes of his son appearing in his mind, “Yoshi was just so silent in breakfast and I thought… Forget it.”
“I'm sure he’s just sleepy, Shuji-san.” Shigemori smiled grouching out a “That slacking brat”.
“Yes, that’s true.” He answered, not really that reassured.
‘He’s just sleepy.’ The father thought, ‘I hope.’
Yoshimori sat on the porch of the house watching the huge moon sitting above their pond. Tears prickled his eyes, but he was not going to let them fall down. Not when there wasn’t anyone to comfort him around.
(- How dare they insult This Lord’s retainer! -) Chuushinmaru muttered angrily in his mind, (- Do you want me to punish them, Yoshi? Do you? I’ll make sure to get your rightful revenge. -)
The boy thought the proposal over for a while; the two boys had made fun of him when Yoshimori had only slipped once and answered the little lord’s question aloud. It was an honest mistake! They didn’t need to be so mean over it.
But on the other hand… The last time Chuushinmaru had punished a dog for hurting his Yoshi and- and Mom hadn’t let Yoshimori see the conclusion. He had only seen one corner of the resulting… paste. They had given the little dog a funeral though.
‘No, it’s fine.’ Yoshimori finally decided, very maturely; Mom would have been proud, ‘I don’t mind it, Chuushinmaru.’
(- But Yoshi! -) The boy protested and Yoshimori already knew that this would go on until morning, Chuushinmaru had absolutely no sense of time, (- What they did is tarnishing to This Lord’s honour! To insult a retainer doing his job in entertaining his charge, there’s no better way to pick a fight with This Lord. -)
Yoshimori sat alone all that night before the family pond, watching the koi and wondering whether he was actually a ‘nut job’ as those boys had said. Now if only Mom would come home from her current job, he would finally have someone to spend his sleepless nights with.
After all, the last time he had complained to anyone else about the Lord, like his father or big bro or even Grandpa, it hadn’t gone very well.
(- And that’s why we should punish them. No? You don’t believe me? Well, there are other reasons too! -)
Yoshimori sighed. Long night indeed.
Yoshimori was seven when he first left Karasumori. It was the first and last family vacation the whole Sumimura family took, his mom somehow managing to persuade the old man into leaving the kekkaishi duties to the Yukimuras for a few days. They went to Hokkaido all together and while the family chaos never stopped, they somehow managed to barely survive the trip.
At least that was the general Sumimura opinion.
For Yoshimori, the trip was pure bliss. Unending and addicting happiness. Of course, there was a reason he enjoyed the holiday of regular fights and just as regular occasions of getting lost.
He couldn’t hear Chuushinmaru.
Yoshimori couldn’t hear him at all.
Not that Chuushinmaru was such a horrible person, but really the lord didn’t know the meaning of time. Whether it be midday or midnight, whether Yoshimori was going through an exam or in the middle of a conversation, Chuushinmaru didn’t understand enough to care. And. He. Talked. So. Much.
By ‘so much’, Yoshimori meant ‘’a whole day of constant talking’ so much’.
No wonder he was that happy to be able to hear his own thoughts. And right after he had talked to his mother about it, too! Yoshimori was almost suspecting that Mom had planned this trip just for him. He just wished they didn’t have to return in a day.
“Mom, can’t we just stay here?” He asked one night, “I don’t want to go back.”
“Why, Yoshi?” She said, patting him on the head, “Won’t you miss the house, or your friends?”
“I don’t have friends anyways. And here, I can’t… I can’t hear him!” Yoshimori explained before turning pleading eyes at his mother, “Can’t you at least take me with you next time you have a mission? I’ll be useful!”
“My missions are very dangerous,” She shook her head, “and Father is still training you to be a kekkaishi, unless he-”
“But Grandpa hates me!” Yoshimori exclaimed, “He hates me because Masamori can do all these awesome kekkaishi things but I can’t even place a barrier over the square. I always make it too big and he gets angry and he won’t even teach me anything else and-”
“Oh, Yoshi,” Mom smiled calmly, “I’m very certain Father doesn’t hate you, he’s just strict. And a little unbending in his teachings it seems. And while it doesn’t seem too bad to me-”
“But, Mom!”
“And while it doesn’t seem too bad to me,” The woman repeated sternly, making Yoshi blush, “I’ll see what little I can do. Is that alright, Yoshi?”
Yoshimori was whisked away on a long journey, one lasting years, in the quest to completely seal Chuushinmaru a few months later. He learned there about techniques more suitable for him, ones that weren’t meant for anyone but the Legitimate Successor. And he formed a small family for himself with the relentless Tokine who followed them until Mom let her join and the half-ayakashi, full fugitive Gen who they found in the mountains running from Urakai.
“I’m off!”
Yoshimori walked out of the gate to go to school, as it was apparently expected of him to do. He remembered the way to school, not that it was necessary with the spiritual energy practically flowing out of the place. Still, it was nice to see that he could at least play at it until they figured out what was wrong with the world.
Or at least until Tokine figured it out.
The now-boy knew perfectly well that he was deliberately ignoring the possibility that he was alone in this, thank you very much. But there was absolutely no way he was going to believe that his team wasn’t here with him. No way.
And anyways, he thought cheerfully, noticing a small black shadow scuttling near the alleyway next to him, Tokine couldn’t be brought down by no means, human or otherwise, except cockroaches.
And Gen… meh, he was mostly immortal anyways.
He just had to find them and then they could solve this together.