Engineering, Magic, and Kitsune

Today was bizarre. To be honest, half of the walk over here, John was mentally preparing himself to deal with a hostage situation, but thankfully, the tax collectors didn't think of that. Yet, in all his musings, he didn't predict this.

He stared down the now kneeling, absolutely horrifying undead with a frown, before looking at the bound and gagged Shirai, who was trying his best to worm his way away from everyone. Unfortunately for him, he was moving about as fast as an actual worm.

Drifting up, his eyes rested on the undead, who he was… pretty sure was only a monster before now, but this only made sense now that he thought of it.

He should have guessed after his first visit to the village. Why would a weapon flinch away from lightning? There was no need to give one the fear required for self-preservation beyond what was needed to win a fight with minimal damage.

"Would you mind giving me a second with my ally to discuss this?" John asked.

The creature gave him a bow, a few horrid-smelling juices spilling from them onto the floor, before grabbing the squirming Shiari by one of his feet. Swiftly, it dragged him back and erased whatever progress he may have made as the captured officer made various noises of… disagreement, muffled through the gag.

"Thank you," he responded. Gently, he brushed Yuki's hand with his own as he turned around to leave the room.

"We will be back in a moment," she echoed, following him out and sliding the door shut behind them.

John turned to talk, but the kitsune shook her head, pointing further away, by the far wall. With a nod, he made more distance so they were farther away, by a window looking out the back.

On impulse, he opened the window, swinging it open. Below was a large hot spring which took up most of the space in the walled back lot, divided in two by a fence sitting atop a stone barrier, likely into men's and women's sections. A thick layer of white steam clung to it, and the reddish natural stone that composed it had been cut into submerged bench seats at the edge. A faint hint of sulphur tingled his nose, and a pang of nostalgia hit John as memories of a time long past assaulted him.

They were simpler days back home, and part of him longed to take a dip and let the steamy water soak into his skin and wash away the stress of these last few days. It had been perhaps a decade since he last went to a hot spring with his family, and overcommercialized as it may have been, he still had fond memories of relaxing there.

Alas, he didn't have time for that luxury right nowadays; he had things to do, and there was no way in hell that he was going to strip out of his equipment in an uncontrolled area.

Around it was a wooden deck, with wood stained with a rich brown to protect it from the water, and close to the doors back inside, there was a section of planks knocked out so people could move freely between the two spaces. All around the area was a series of boxes and half-deconstructed tents, signs of the former occupation now a skeleton of what it once was.

Hold on, why the hell were there windows on the back of the building if these were gendered springs? Didn't that defeat the point?

Yuki slid up close next to him, close enough that he could lean over and touch her, but he felt no need. Thankfully, neither did she, although he still internally flinched at the unexpected proximity.

"What a day," he commented, trying not to think about the blood staining her hands and muzzle. Perhaps a day ago, this would have horrified him, but after the shitshow that was yesterday, he felt numb, and he didn't like that he did. In a weird, fucked up way, John was just glad that he didn't have to see, and given how fast she was, he knew it was at least quick if nothing else.

He trusted her judgement enough as to who would be the problem, and the grim truth was that he didn't really have a choice. What was he going to do, hold who knows how many men captive until the Nameless situation got resolved? They could break out in groups like that.

He had a feeling that the villagefolk didn't exactly have a jail around, and even if they did, he doubted they would have gotten the courtesy of imprisonment. It's not like back home, where one farmer could feed one hundred people, even without accounting for the other expenses of prisoners.

"And it's not even half over yet. Still, this makes it easier for us," Yuki sighed. "I am unfamiliar with this type of undead, but this is a… shocking amount of independence for one created as a weapon. It must have slipped its bonds somehow."

Horrifying as they may be, John couldn't help but feel a twinge of wrongness about referring to their surrendered captive as "it". The term felt wrong for someone clearly sapient, although he supposed there was the distant possibility that they were only some sort of construct mimicking sapience. Still, that felt like a stretch.

"Do we have to worry about it going berserk?" John tensely asked, glancing toward the door.

Yuki quickly shook her head. "No. Artificial undead made from just one person are usually pretty stable, as long as the way they died wasn't too exceptionally traumatic and they weren't purposefully created vicious. Still, they are constantly in some amount of spiritual pain, so that may pose a threat eventually. This one seems fresh-ish and doesn't show too much discomfort, though."

Well, that was positively horrifying and not something he knew he should be worried about. Every day, this world found new and interesting ways to spike his cortisol like the stock price of some useless startup.

"Right," he grimaced, looking away and shaking his head. "I'm assuming Shirai had some way to control it before now, given it always showed up with him. What changed?"

"You're right. Shirai had a charm of some sort containing its soul, which tethers the thing to the earthly plane and gave him power over it. Of course, such a charm does little good when it gets stolen."

"And thus, our situation. The undead has it on them?"

"I can't confirm it, but it's very likely. Those charms only have a limited range, and the creatures always know where they are. Unless the techniques involved improved dramatically during my imprisonment, it's hard to leave standing orders for them that can't be worked around, so a constant hand on their leash is a must. Given that it always accompanied Shirai, he probably said something that gave it leeway to seize the charm before he could countermand it," Yuki explained.

"There's no chance that Kiku orchestrated this somehow?" John tensely asked, glancing around like her name might summon her. "I'm still not clear on how her ability works."

"That's not all you're worried about," Yuki stated.

John sighed, rubbing his temples. "Can you blame me after yesterday?" He chuckled almost rigidly, more an impulse to try to break the tension than anything.

"No. If it's any consolation, Kiku didn't have you long enough to do anything lasting," she comforted. "At what her current level of power should be, to more permanently warp you would take an hour at least."

Small comforts, but he supposed Yuki was the expert here.

He met her golden eyes full of radiant warmth, but only briefly before breaking away.

"Thank you," he replied.

"Any time," she softly reassured. "Regardless, she'd have to be magnitudes stronger to completely change or control someone without leaving some of her power behind to stop them from reverting, and I sensed nothing of the kind from either of them. The worst she could have done is feed the two of them false information, but we'd be fools to trust anything Shirai or the undead states at face value."

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"But they may still know something she doesn't want us to know, even if we assume they've been pumped full of false intel. Something we can verify," John mused.

"Exactly. Although I'd prefer you stay outside for this interrogation. The undead disquiets you, and the pair might be able to tell," Yuki said, sighing. "It might make them more confident in withholding information."

Pulling his lips tight, he hesitantly nodded. "Fine." Besides, even if she somehow couldn't deal with them, he'd be out here, ready to go. He didn't exactly have to worry about Yuki quietly losing a fight to a fat coward and a zombie he cowed on his first day in town. "I'll be right outside, if you need anything."

She dipped her head and turned, leaving back to the room. Yuki curiously stared at an extinguished candle on a shelf on the way by before grabbing it and snapping her fingers over the wick, lighting it with but a thought before stepping back where their "captives" were.

He wondered what she would do with that, but he hoped it wasn't anything too unpleasant. The undead, which he still didn't know the name or proper title of, already looked too similar to multicoloured melted wax for his taste.

For a moment, he stared at the sliding paper door. They were pretty thin; he could probably try to listen in, but there were a few things he needed to do first, at the very least. Besides, he had a feeling it'd do his mental health no good to listen to how Yuki got information out of others when he wasn't there.

Torture was ineffective and just got people to tell you whatever they thought you needed to hear, even if it wasn't true; he knew that. He didn't doubt that a millennium-plus-year-old kitsune who has brushed shoulders with history repeatedly would, too, if only by seeing people use it and have it not turn out well. Still, she must have had her ways, and he wasn't quite emotionally ready to see what they may be.

Mind control was probably off the table, even if Yuki could do it, but something about the idea of listening in while Yuki played someone like a fiddle scared him, as if he might recognize some of the steps of the dance.

What was Kiku's ability beyond mind-altering effects, anyhow?

As he pondered, he walked over to the far side of the building and slid a window open to check on his prisoners.

One, two, three…

John counted the lot of them, satisfied that the entire dozen were still there and in nominally good health, at least. One had taken a pretty good conk on the noggin when he was levitated out in all his flailing, but he seemed to be walking around, and one had a twisted ankle, which John was pretty sure was pre-existing, looking at how he hobbled on it when Yuki sent him over.

He tried not to think too much about how many people there could have been on that roof, if only he had already figured out proper non-lethal solutions.

Sighing, he looked over their number. Some had begun to notice him watching from the window, and began to get themselves low or grip the tiles on the roof as if it'd save them from him. Fear and hopelessness etched themselves on their faces, spreading like a merciless plague as word of his appearance spread.

He raised a hand and waved awkwardly, unsure what else to do. "Hey, uh, everyone doing alright over there? No major injuries?"

Silence answered him, alongside a few unsure shakes of heads and a smattering of nods. He should have probably phrased things better so "yes" or "no" were both okay rather than a split, but they… seemed fine? They all kept an eye on him like you would a grizzly bear who had just stumbled onto the road halfway through your walk.

"Well, uh, I'll leave you to it, then."

A flash of blue and black caught his attention, and he glanced down, revealing, thankfully, Rin, who was still faithfully patrolling around the property! "Hey there, Rin!"

She leaped back like a startled cat, blade drawn with crackling blue lightning as she pirouetted through the air with incredible precision, landing in a low, wide stance with her left hand on the ground, her blade held in her right, the sharpened edge of the curious blue steel glinting in the sunlight, despite how cloudy it was out.

The second she saw him, though, a faint blush bloomed on her face, and she quickly straightened herself, resheathing her sword and bowing. "Sensei John!" she called.

"The building's clear, you can stop patrolling now," he said, shrugging. Glancing down the street, he saw some of Yashiro's men holding a perimeter in the distance. Honestly, he had almost forgotten about them. "Mind telling them that it's clear, too?" A beat passed. "Oh, and make sure they don't do anything about the men on the roof!" he hurriedly added. "We have to talk to them later!"

Fuck, what was he even going to do with the men he HAD captured? He couldn't feed and take care of that many people, and the town sure as shit wouldn't! Hell, they'd be lucky if they made it through the day.

Maybe he could convince the militia to press the men into service against the Nameless, at least for the time? They probably needed all the hands they could get, and if they split the men up so they couldn't plot, they'd provide at least a bit of extra force.

"Right away, sensei!" she excitedly answered before speeding down the street at a pace that made the nervous men forming the cordon jolt.

It was probably fine.

Heading inside, he levitated a rolled-up futon from where it was awkwardly crammed into one of the makeshift barricades lining the halls, and plopped himself down with a sigh. Taking a moment, he pulled off his backpack and rustled through the container before withdrawing a sealed package and a waterskin.

Taking a sip, he opened up the small container, revealing wineberries which he casually munched on while he waited for Yuki to finish.

Honestly, it bugged him how Yuki and Rin didn't pack water around with them. Maybe their yokai and Unbound biologies allowed them to go far longer before it became a problem, especially Yuki, given the centuries-plus of imprisonment.

Suddenly, the sound of faint clattering drew his attention from the window. Groaning, he got back up, heading back over to check on his prisoners. This better not be an escape attempt.

The only warning he got was a "Hai!" before Rin hopped up and barreled through the open window like a deranged bluejay, shouting out something that sounded pretty fucking close to a warcry.

"Holy shit!" John swore, jolting and jumping out of the way like a startled cat.

She flew through the air, doing a frankly excessive amount of front flips as if she were an Olympic diver before landing on her knees with a loud, painful-sounding thunk, already in a bowing position. "Sensei, the militia has been informed!" she loudly proclaimed, head against the floor. Hell, she even managed to spin to face him.

Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell was wrong with this woman, and it took him a minute to gather his words. "Thank you, Rin," he replied, tone carefully controlled as not to betray the deep exasperation immediately setting in. "That entrance was very… impressive."

"Thank you! I first managed it about three decades ago, and I've been practicing it since!" she cheerfully replied.

Wait. Wait a fucking minute.

He did some mental math in his head.

Three decades… Even if Rin had been practicing it since she was preschooled aged, that would have meant…

Cold dread seized his chest, and his lips pulled tight as he stared into the distance.

Rin was older than him! How the hell was she still like this? He thought she was, what, early twenties at most, but even if she got juiced up as a small kid and started learning that at five, that would place her at a solid thirty-five! Hell, if we go a bit less conservative and say she started at eighteen, that would put her at forty-eight!

No. He refused. There was no universe in which someone a decade and a half his senior was like this, calling him sensei, and picking fights with strangers in restaurants. He, academically, knew that Unbound lived longer than normal people, especially as they got more powerful; that's what the tomes said… but he expected it to be something like they'd be one hundred but look eighty. Not this. This was a violation. Of something. He just wasn't sure what. Good sense, maybe?

He hated it here.

"Sensei John, are you alright?" she asked, snapping him from his thousand-yard stare. Looking up at him was Rin, who was now kneeling, curiously looking at him with her hands politely folded in her lap.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Yeah, thank you, Rin. Yuki is interrogating Shirai right now." He nodded toward the room where the questioning was taking place. "Don't know how long it'd be, though. Berries?" At that, John held out the container of wineberries.

Dipping her head, she grabbed a polite handful, but no more. "My thanks," she said.

So, there he was, alone with Rin. Nothing happening. The idle silence was uncomfortable, even though it had only been a few moments.

Perhaps it didn't have to, though. The pair of them might not have much in common, but John had promised to teach her. He didn't have to teach her specifically about Unbound stuff, though. He still had a thing or two that may prove useful.

"So, do you know what water is composed of?" John asked.

She paused in her idle munching, tilting her head curiously like a dog. "What do you mean, Sensei? Isn't water just… water?"

A grin threatened to split John's face. "Not quite."