Lord-Campione
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Chapter no.40: Fighting The "Oni"
🕑 Added 2024-11-05 23:13:32 +0000 UTCFifteen days till the apocalypse. That’s what the letter had said.
Kozen still had the crumpled paper tucked into his pocket, the words etched into his mind even though he could recite them by heart: Take some rest, love you. Good luck. Rika.
It wasn’t the message itself that disturbed him. Rika was dramatic, sure, but this? This was a whole new level. She’d sent him that letter, and then she and Takashi had just… disappeared. No warning, no goodbyes.
Kozen had laughed when he first read the note, shrugged it off as a joke. But now, with each passing day, the thought gnawed at him: Where had Rika gone to?
Fifteen days. Fifteen days left to do everything he hadn’t done. So, fine. He’d make the most out of these two weeks on earth.
What to do when the apocalypse is near? He wondered, half to himself. He’d actually had to Google it to get some inspiration for his bucket list of things.
Nothing too crazy—just stuff he’d always put off, assuming he’d have more time. But one thing kept rising to the top of his list, almost mocking him with its simplicity.
Get a girlfriend.
He rolled his eyes at himself, almost embarrassed by how high he’d ranked it. But there it was. If the world was about to collapse, he was at least going to go out after losing his virginity… Okay, now that he wrote it down, it felt stupid.
Kozen figured it’d be easy enough to check this box off, too. Rei was an option, and she’d made her interest obvious. But… she was too easy. Predictable. She wanted stability, someone to fit into her life perfectly. Kozen didn’t want to just “fit”—he wanted someone who challenged him. Someone who’d make these last days interesting.
And then there was Miku. She was competitive, a bit stubborn, and didn’t take any of his crap.
Good, he thought. I like that… a challenge… my type.
As if fate was giving him a nudge, the chance had come sooner than he’d expected. Somehow, they’d ended up together at the arcade, laughing and goofing off like a couple of kids. It wasn’t a romantic date, but it had been fun—real, uncomplicated fun. And now that he’d gotten a taste of what it was like to be around her, he knew he wanted more.
Alright, he thought. Step one down. Next up: ask her out on an actual date.
That should be easy enough. He was charming, confident. How hard could it be?
But, of course, fate had other plans.
And now, here he was, standing in a dark alley, facing down a masked swordsman who looked like something out of a horror movie. His life was nothing if not unpredictable.
“Great,” Kozen muttered under his breath, a dry smile tugging at his lips. “Fifteen days to live, and I’m spending one of them fighting some masked psycho in an alley. Thanks, universe. Really appreciate it.”
Kozen squared his shoulders, fists up in a loose guard as he faced down the masked swordsman, the figure’s ominous oni mask gleaming in the dim alleyway light. The weight of the katana in the masked figure’s grip was evident as they held it with a calm, practiced stillness that unnerved him. This was no amateur with a flashy weapon—this was someone who knew how to use it. Kozen could see it in the subtle, efficient stance, the way they kept their center of gravity low, ready to strike or defend in a split second.
He knew he was at a disadvantage with no Weapon.
Seems like fun.
The masked swordsman moved first, taking a swift, fluid step forward, the katana flashing as they brought it down in a straight vertical slice, aiming to bisect Kozen from shoulder to hip. Kozen sidestepped, his movements quick and light, but he felt the blade slice through the air, so close he could feel the rush of displaced wind against his skin.
No wasted movement. This swordsman was deadly efficient.
Kozen didn’t wait; he surged forward the moment he dodged, closing the gap between them to take away the katana’s range advantage. He launched a sharp, right jab aimed at the swordsman’s exposed side. The figure blocked with the hilt of the katana, twisting it to deflect his punch, and with a fluid twist, they redirected the energy of his strike away from them.
Kozen gritted his teeth, quickly pivoting into a low kick aimed at their knees, hoping to break their stance. The swordsman anticipated the move, stepping back just enough to dodge the kick and then retaliating by whipping the blade upward in a diagonal arc. Kozen barely had time to twist his torso back, feeling the razor edge graze his shirt, nicking the skin beneath.
A thin line of blood bloomed along his side.
He choose to close in faster, tighter. He feinted left, then sprang to the right, moving within arm’s reach as he drove a powerful uppercut aimed at the masked figure’s chin. But the swordsman was quick—they raised their elbow, intercepting the punch with the hard edge of their forearm, blocking the impact. Without missing a beat, they used the momentum of his strike to spin around, bringing the hilt of the katana down in a brutal, hammer-like motion aimed at his shoulder.
Kozen ducked under the strike, his instincts guiding him as he launched a low, sweeping kick at the swordsman’s ankles. This time, the kick connected, and the masked figure stumbled, their balance thrown off for a precious second. Seizing the opportunity, Kozen lunged forward with a barrage of punches—jabs and crosses that aimed to overwhelm and disorient. His fists connected with the figure’s shoulder, chest, and ribs.
But the masked swordsman wasn’t defenseless.
Armour? They are wearing armor to protect their body.
Recovering quickly, the oni shifted the katana to a defensive grip, angling it to catch his punches against the flat of the blade. Weird sounds were heard his knuckles met the steel edge, the impact sending shockwaves up his forearms.
The swordsman, seeing an opening, used the hilt of the katana to thrust sharply into Kozen’s gut, knocking the wind out of him. Kozen staggered back, pain radiating through his abdomen as he smiled.
This guy is good.
The masked figure advanced, gripping the katana with both hands now, their stance shifting into a textbook kendo posture. Kozen recognized it—the chūdan-no-kamae, the middle stance, designed for both offensive and defensive strikes. They were going for precision now, intending to end this with calculated, lethal efficiency.
The swordsman’s blade slashed horizontally in a swift arc, aiming for Kozen’s neck. Kozen ducked, just barely avoiding decapitation, but the blade caught him on the shoulder, slicing through skin and muscle. He hissed in pain, blood soaking through his shirt, but he didn’t let it slow him down.
Kozen feinted left, then lunged low, delivering a punishing knee strike to the swordsman’s ribs. The impact forced a grunt from the masked figure, and Kozen followed up with an elbow to their jaw, feeling the satisfying crunch as bone met bone. The figure stumbled, their footing momentarily thrown.
But they recovered swiftly, retaliating with a thrust aimed at Kozen’s midsection. Kozen twisted his torso, the blade grazing his side but missing vital organs. He spun inside their guard, grabbing their sword arm with one hand while delivering a powerful, upward knee strike into their abdomen. The masked swordsman grunted, their grip on the katana loosening slightly.
Using the momentum, Kozen twisted his hips, executing a powerful low kick aimed at the back of their knee. His shin connected, and the figure’s leg buckled, forcing them to one knee. Seeing his chance, Kozen followed up with a roundhouse kick, aiming for their head.
The swordsman raised their arm to block, catching the kick on their forearm, but the impact was enough to force them back. They stumbled, and for a moment, Kozen saw an opening. He lunged forward, aiming a punch straight at their mask.
But the figure reacted with a speed that took him off guard, bringing the hilt of the katana up to deflect his punch before twisting sharply to bring the blade down in a brutal, sweeping arc. Kozen barely managed to lean back, feeling the edge slice through his shirt just inches from his skin.
Kozen felt exhaustion settling in, his muscles burning, his movements slowing. But he wasn’t about to give up. He tightened his stance, his fists still up, his gaze locked onto his opponent.
With one final surge of energy, Kozen moved in, dodging a downward slice of the katana by mere inches. He ducked low, sweeping his leg out in a powerful kick that connected with the swordsman’s knee, forcing them off balance. In the same motion, he twisted his body, bringing his elbow up in a brutal strike to their temple.
The masked figure staggered back, momentarily stunned. Kozen seized the opportunity, swinging a brutal left hook that shattered part of the oni mask, revealing a bloodied face beneath. To his shock, it was… her. What was her name again?
He narrowed his eyes, trying to recall. “You!” he said with as much dramatic weight as he could muster, hoping she’d fill in the blanks for him.
The girl wiped blood from her mouth and sneered, her one exposed eye gleaming with an unsettling mix of amusement and bloodlust. “You don’t remember, huh? Figures. Men never notice the important things.”
“Right,” he muttered, not even trying to deny it. “But, uh… why exactly are you here beating up gangsters in a back alley? Didn’t figure you for the vigilante type.”
She smirked. “You’re still as beautiful as ever, Kozen,” she said, ignoring his question entirely.
“Yeah, thanks, I get that a lot.” He kept his tone light, almost mocking. “So, am I getting inducted into your little revenge business, or is this the part where you make sure I’m not talking?”
She laughed, low and unhinged. “I don’t care if you talk or not. I’m not here to protect secrets, Kozen.” She ran her tongue over her teeth, her voice thick with excitement. “I’m here because I just want to fight.”
He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the carnage around them. “So… no moral dilemma about slicing through half the Yakuza? No hidden purpose or tragic backstory motivating you to take down criminals?”
“Why would there be?” she spat, her grin widening. “The mask lets me swing my blade as much as I want, without anyone looking at me sideways. And these gangsters?” She shrugged. “At least they carry weapons. Makes things more… entertaining.”
Kozen rolled his eyes. “Right. So, can I go now? You can keep playing samurai with the Yakuza for all I care.”
“Not until you stop holding back,” she growled, dropping into a low stance, her hands flexing like claws. “I want a real fight.”
Kozen sighed, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a compact metal rod. With a flick of his wrist, it extended into a full-length staff, gleaming under the dim alley lights.
“Alright, alright,” he said, giving the staff a little twirl. “Let’s make this quick. I’ve got a date to get back to.”
