Chapter Text

Youmu had been standing outside the parlor for most of an hour. She stared at the floor, fidgeting and shifting side to side as she waited. Inside the room, she could hear Yuyuko and the man arguing.

"I didn't sign on to train kids."

"Hmm? Is that a problem?"

"I'm a swordsman." The man snorted through his nose. "Not a babysitter."

"I'm sure she'll be a good pupil. She's very studious for her age."

"Doesn't matter. Not training a kid. Don't like them."

"If you have any problems with her, you can bring her to me.” Even Youmu could hear the strained patience in Yuyuko's voice. “All I ask is for you to train her as well as you can. I'll add five thousand yen to your stipend for the trouble, how does that sound?"

“Not interested.”

"Ah. I wasn't aware that the Konpaku clan was so prosperous that you could turn down work. I suppose this means that the rumors I heard about your gambling debts are wrong. Ah, well..."

More grumbling. The man let out a low, defeated groan. "Bring her in," he finally said. "Let's have a look."

"Wonderful! I'm sure you two will get along. Youmu!" Yuyuko called back toward the door, raising her voice. "Please come in now!"

Youmu gripped the lower hem of her dress and stared at the floor, trying to summon up the courage to move. She was too young to understand everything that they'd discussed, but the man had sounded angry, Bit by bit, she willed her body into motion. She pushed the door open, and stepped into the room.

And, froze as soon as she saw him. Even hidden under layers of earth tone robes, the man was imposing. The only bared skin below his neck were his hands, knobbly, sinewy, calloused things. A single sword hung at crooked angle on his back. His wispy white beard was pulled into a point, and his hair was cut short. His face had a strangely ageless quality to it, but he looked like he was constantly squinting against the light, creasing the flesh at the corner of his eyes.

Most importantly, though: A phantom hanged in the air behind him. It wasn't like the tiny ones that gathered around Yuyuko like moths to a flame. It was a fat, heavy, substantial thing, drifting lazily around his waist. He shifted his weight to peer over her, and it moved along with him, as if tugged along by an invisible string.

He had a phantom half. He was like her.

The man's squinting expression softened in surprise. "Where'd you even find her?"

"It's not nice to talk about her like she isn't here," Yuyuko chided gently. She stepped behind Youmu and rested her hands on the girl's shoulders. "This is Youmu. She's a foundling from the land of the living. Yukari thought she'd be safer growing up away from humans, so she will be living here from now on."

"Nnh. Not many half-phantoms around these days." The man scowled, but started walking a slow circle around Youmu, inspecting her. Youmu shrunk down slightly, but stayed put. If there was one skill she'd perfected, it was how to stay small and quiet around adults. "Got a last name, kid?"

"N-no, sir."

"Figures." He came to a stop, still bent down and squinting at her. "She's scrawny."

"I'll see to it that she eats right from now on," Yuyuko said.

"Probably can't even lift a sword."

"Then she can use a bokken."

The man grumbled under his breath "... if she's going to be living here," he reasoned aloud, "she's going to be a pain in my ass either way. Might as well make the extra money while I'm at it."

"So you'll train her?"

"Eh. Sure, why not."

"Wonderful! Youmu," Yuyuko never spoke harshly to begin with, but her voice always seemed to soften further when addressing Youmu, "This is Youki Konpaku. He'll be training you from now on, okay? Please try to learn from him."

"Yes, ma'am," Youmu said.

“Just stay quiet and do what I say,” Youki added.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Youki,” Yuyuko said. “If you make that girl shed a single tear...”

Youki raised an eyebrow. “Then...?”

“Then I will never forgive you. That would be sad, don't you think?”

Youki held Yuyuko's gaze for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, got it.” His eyes turned toward Youmu. “Come on, kid, let's get started. Better not make me regret this.”

"Huaaah!"

"Again."

"Hyaaah!"

"Again!”

Youmu flinched, but steeled her expression. Once again, she sank down into a combat stance. Every bead of sweat was a pinprick of cold in the chilly Netherworld air. Her bokken, already too large for her hands, drooped in exertion until she tightened her grip on it. She glared at the space where her imaginary opponent should stand, took a deep breath, and focused her entire will on a single purpose.

“HAAAAH!” Every muscle in her body snapped into motion, and she leapt forward like an arrow. Her spirit flowed into the sword, and it became a part of her, roiling with energy. The entire force of her body drove it through a single slice. When she came to a stop a fraction of a second later, thirty meters across the garden, a ghostly line of white fire hanged behind her. It lingered for an instant, then sublimated away into mist.

The single explosive motion left Youmu gasping for air. It was the only sound in the garden. Then, a single grunt of disapproval broke the silence.

Youmu slumped and turned around. On the other side of the garden, Youki was sitting on the steps of his shack, his traditional spot for these training sessions. Even seated, he looked intimidating: legs spread, elbows propped on the step behind him, Hakurouken laying sheathed across his lap, a fat hand-rolled cigarette drooping from one lip and trailing a wisp of smoke. He shook his head in annoyance and plucked the cigarette from his mouth. “Your form's terrible,” he said, and ground the cigarette into a brown smear against the step. Using Hakurouken's scabbard as a cane, he pushed himself to standing with a soft sigh of exertion and unsheathed the sword.

After months of training, Youmu was accustomed enough to this chain of events to know what came next. She stepped aside, and studied Youki's movements. Where he'd barely been able to stand up moments ago, his motions now were measured and deliberate. He lowered the sword to his side and crouched down. Like a coiled spring, his entire body was tensed and prepared to put its energy into a single motion.

“HOAH!” It was a single, sharp sound straight from Youki's diaphragm, loud enough that Youmu could feel it across the garden. He moved so quickly that she didn't even see a blur. One moment, he was standing on the other side of the garden. The next, he was in front of her, and a line of roiling energy hanged in the air behind him, like a gash in the side of the universe. In the blink of an eye, a shockwave traveled down its length and exploded outward, unraveling it in a violent eruption of energy.

Youmu felt a rush of shame at her own inability to repeat the display... but it was overwhelmed by amazement. Streamers of ghostly energy looped and curled around the clearing like a fireworks display, and only slowly faded into nothingness. She'd seen plenty such displays in the past few weeks, and it never failed to impress her. “I-I'll try to get it right next time!”

Youki turned a meaningful glance toward her, but it was the only acknowledgment he gave her. He shoved Hakurouken back into its sheath, then looked out over the garden. Already, his hand was patting his robe for the pouch that held his tobacco and rolling papers. “That's it for now,” he said.

“Thank you for the lesson,” Youmu said, and bowed deeply. Her phantom half bobbed down alongside her.

Youki busied himself rolling a cigarette, but freed a hand to wave her away. “Get some practice tonight, or you'll just be wasting my time tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

Youki turned an annoyed glance toward her. “We're done here.”

“Y-yes, sir!” Youmu hurried across the garden to the spot where she'd left her belongings. There wasn't much, just a tied bundle of snacks—Yuyuko always insisted on giving her one, to 'put some meat on you.' She crouched down to pick it up, and was just turning to leave when Youki spoke up again.

“Hey, kid.” Youmu paused and turned around. Youki was in the final stages of rolling his cigarette, and didn't seem inclined to hurry on her account. He twisted the end closed with his lips, then let it hang at its customary position at the corner of his mouth. With that, he looked to Youmu again. “Can you even say anything but 'yes sir' and 'yes ma'am'?”

Youmu stared in slight confusion. “I can say other things...” And didn't have much choice anymore, in fact. She was saying more now than she ever did when she'd lived among humans. Yuyuko seemed dedicated to trying to pry every word out of her mouth that she could get.

“Huh.” Youki looked over her, conflicted, then walked back toward his shed. “C'mere. One more lesson today.” He took a seat on the steps again and tossed his sword to the side. “You've got to learn to be more assertive, kid.”

Oh.” Youmu came to a stop in front of him, and frowned as she considered this. “I'm sorry, but I don't know what that means...”

“Standing up for yourself! Going for what you want! Look. I'm only saying this because you're a half-phantom. You lived with humans before this, right?”

Youmu nodded.

“They treat you good?”

Youmu hesitated. She didn't have an immediate answer to that. For the most part, before coming to Hakugyokurou, she'd never thought of anybody as treating her well or poorly. They had just... treated her as they cared to. The only time she had gotten attention was when she did something wrong, and some days, just being seen was enough.

Her face apparently said everything that Youki needed to know. “Thought so,” he said. “That's why you've got to grow a spine. Keep 'yes sir'ing everything and everybody will walk all over you. Got it?”

Youmu had to restrain herself from saying, “Yes, sir,” again. Instead, she said, “Right.”

“Somebody punches you, you have to punch them back.”

Youmu cocked her head, trying to decipher if this was some kind of trick or not. The villagers had been very clear about not fighting each other. “... really?”

“Did I stutter?”

“N-no sir, I just, um, I...!”

Youki snorted a cloud of smoke out his nose in annoyance, then pushed himself from the step and knelt down in front of her. “Punch me.”

“... w-what?”

“Right now. Punch me.” He flicked the ashes from his cigarette, then balanced it on a thigh. “In the face. Hard as you can.”

“I don't want to.”

“Kid, if you can't even punch somebody, you'll never make it as a swordsman.”

Youmu scowled, but when Youki didn't change his mind, she slowly worked up the nerve. Clenching her teeth, she pulled her hand back, balled it into a fist, and drove it forward. Her hand impacted his face with a sharp smack. Youki didn't budge. “Open your eyes,” he said. Youmu was afraid of what she'd see when she did, but she obeyed.

Youki didn't really look worse for the wear, apart from a slight red spot on his cheek. “Do it again, but keep them open this time,” he said.

Youmu drew her hand back again, and already, she was gritting her teeth in anticipation of the pain. She put more force into the punch this time, and somehow managed to keep her eyes open. This time, her aim was off. Her fist plowed right into Youki's nose, and he recoiled backward, cussing under his breath. He dabbed a fingertip under his nose, and satisfied that there was no blood, gave it a few sore rubs before looking back to her. He leveled one gnarled finger at her face. “Punching your master is about the worst thing you can do, you know.”

“S-Sorry...!” Youmu blurted.

“Don't be.” Youki lifted his cigarette to his mouth and took a drag from it. “Now you've punched somebody who didn't have it coming. The next time you want to punch somebody who deserves it, don't even hesitate. Got it?”

“I think so...”

“Good.” His expression softened for just a moment, then he dismissed her with a wave of a hand. “Lesson's over. Get out of here.”

Youmu's first spring in the Netherworld was a strange experience. In the human village, spring had been a time of new beginnings. The streets had filled with people, out enjoying the weather and getting long-delayed work done after the winter, birds had filled the air, and life had bloomed everywhere. By comparison, the Netherworld was... restrained. The snow vanished without ever seeming to melt, and the grass it left behind looked just as it had the prior autumn. The only sign that anything had changed in the Netherworld's eternal now was the flowers. Seemingly overnight, the cherry trees had bloomed, filling the mist around Hakugyokurou with pink bursts of flowers like fireworks.

The garden, filled with plants from the outside world, was the only part that behaved naturally to Youmu's eyes. The plants had put out buds one at a time, creeping toward spring at a more natural pace. Now, it was approaching full bloom. Phantom butterflies flickered between the blossoms, and the usually lifeless air of the Netherworld held a dozen delicate scents.

And, in the very back, Youki was busy gardening. He'd been wrapped up in it for days, taking every measure to ensure that nothing would detract from the grounds' unearthly beauty when spring peaked. Youmu came to a stop behind him, and watched. He looked like he was completely focused on the small cluster of plants in front of him. They were delicate-looking things, with long curved leaves and spindly stalks reaching up from the base. As she watched, he carefully picked through them with his fingers. Spotting a weed, he plucked it out of the ground and tossed it aside, then moved on. A few more weeds, none more than tiny, just-budding things, joined the pile. "If you've got something to say," he said, without looking back. "Then say it."

"Oh, um." Youmu dipped a shallow bow without thinking. "Lady Yuyuko said that I should see if you need any help with the gardens."

"I don't."

"She said that..." Youmu frowned as she tried to remember the exact words that Yuyuko had used. "Since you're too busy to train me in swordsmanship right now, you could give me moral guidance.”

Youki scowled back over his shoulder. “'Moral guidance'?”

“That's what she said.”

He rolled his eyes and turned back to his plants. He pulled a small knife from his belt, and resumed picking through them, this time inspecting the body of the plants themselves. After some searching, he found a stalk that looked lifeless, followed it down to the base with his fingers, and sliced it off. It soon landed on the pile of discarded weeds.

Youmu followed the stalk with her eyes, frowning. “That's mean.”

Youki didn't look away from the plant. After another minute or two of searching, he found another withered stalk and sliced it off. And another. Youmu waited in patient silence, studying his actions and restraining her urge to fidget. “If you're going to stare at me until I've taught you something, let's get this over with,” he said, finally. “What do you want to know?”

“Oh.” Youmu hadn't come prepared for this, and Yuyuko hadn't told her what she was supposed to be learning out here. She thought for a few seconds. “What are you doing?”

“Pruning,” Youki said, and resumed his work. Youmu watched. For all she knew, that was the whole lesson. “Getting rid of the dead parts. Too old. Won't make flowers anymore. The plant just wastes energy keeping them alive.”

“Oh...” Youmu looked to the growing pile. “It still seems mean.”

“That's how life is.” Youki went silent, returning to his careful examination of the plants. After some time, he rocked back on his heels, looking over his handiwork.

"They're pretty," Youmu said, lacking anything else to contribute to the conversation.

Youki scoffed. "Not right now, they aren't. Nothing but scraggly weeds." Even so, he looked pleased at the compliment.

Youmu stepped forward and tentatively crouched down in front of them, half-afraid that Youki was going to chase her off. She poked at a leaf. "What are they?"

"Wind orchid."

"Are they flowers?"

Youki shot her an annoyed glance, but Youmu held her ground. "... yeah. Pink. Special kind of blooms, too. Only grown by the Konpaku clan."

Youmu frowned. She'd only heard the word 'clan' a few times, from Yuyuko. "Is a clan like a family?"

Youki grunted in response. "Close enough. Used to be..." He reached forward and cupped a small protrusion at the end of one of the stalks. "Used to be one of the most powerful around. Half-phantoms aren't much use in politics, but we could take anybody on the battlefield."

"What happened?"

"Never really fit in anywhere to begin with. Too dead for the human world, too alive for the Netherworld. Then guns came along, and suddenly, not much room for the wandering swordsman deal, is there?" He looked to her. "You're the first half-phantom I've seen in most of a century."

It took Youmu a moment to realize that he'd shifted the topic of the conversation toward her. She leaned back, and her phantom half drifted down behind her. “There aren't many people like us?”

“Not many left,” Youki said, glancing back to the plants. He frowned thoughtfully, cleaning his knife on the front of his robe. “Most of 'em...” He trailed off, and his expression hardened. “Cripes, kid, you ask too many questions.”

“I-I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well, lesson's over.” Youki raised his knife and gestured with it. “Go on, scram. You're getting on my nerves.”

Youmu froze, uncertain if she'd some unknown offense. “As you wish,” she murmured. After a quick bow, she turned and hurried out of the garden.

With a clipped kiai, Youki leapt forward. His bokken flared silver in his hands. Rather than try blocking such a powerful blow, Youmu rolled to the side. The wooden sword whiffed through the air where she'd been, and when it drove into the earth, waves of energy crackled across the ground. Before he could recover, Youmu bolstered her phantom half, making it glare like a miniature sun, and slammed it into him. He rolled with the attack, but she didn't let up. She charged right after it, sword held down and to the side, and put the entire force of her body into a single upward swipe. In a blur, Youki sidestepped it. A single blow with his hilt sent her stumbling forward. Another sent pain and numbness into her back. He whirled around, and a kick to her rear sent her sprawling onto the grass.

“Sloppy!”

Youmu pushed herself off the ground with a groan. The aches running through her back were already subsiding. One of the few benefits of being half-dead. She knew from experience that Youki didn't want to hear anything but acknowledgment of her mistakes at this point. “I thought you'd be too unbalanced to counterattack,” she said breathlessly, and rolled over to sit on the grass. “I should have used a faster attack without leaving myself open.”

“Nnh.” Youki snorted at her appraisal. Since he never hesitated to show disapproval, she took it to mean that he agreed. He turned away from her and walked over to the stairs of his shack, where he lowered himself to sitting. Though he tried to hide it, he was careful as he lowered himself, and only his use of his bokken as a cane kept him from collapsing onto the steps.

Youmu had been at Hakugyokurou for a few years now, and it was hard to deny it: Youki was getting slower. He could still pull off attacks that left her breathless, but they seemed to... drain him. She occasionally spotted him wincing after particularly impressive techniques. Their sessions were growing shorter. He denied it, but he favored one knee, and winced whenever he had to put too much weight on it.

The pattern of their training sessions was well-worn by now, and she knew that she'd been dismissed. She gathered the bokken up, then carried them into the mansion to return them to their storage rack. When she came back outside, Youki was looking up at the sky. He ignored her presence as she busied herself with cleaning up the rest of the detritus of their sparring session.

“Thank you for the lesson,” Youmu said, and bowed. Youki didn't seem to notice.

She turned to go back in to the mansion. She was nearly to the door when his voice stopped her. “Hey, kid.”

Youmu stopped and turned around. “Yes?”

“Yuyuko...” Youki's eyes were still glued to the heavens. Youmu followed them, but could see nothing. The Netherworld sky was the same slate gray covering of clouds that she'd grown accustomed to. “Is she still talking about that tree?”

“... she is, yes. She was arguing about it with Lady Yukari last week.”

“If she goes through with it, a lot of shit's gonna go down.” When Youmu had no response to that, he met her gaze. “A lot of fighting. Are you okay with that?”

“I-if anybody tries to hurt Lady Yuyuko,” Youmu said. She reflexively reached for the spot where her sword hanged when she patrolled the gardens, but wasn't wearing it. “I will cut them to ribbons.” She relaxed out of her combat stance. “Nobody could get past both of us.”

“Heh.” Youki kept his eyes on her face, like he was searching for something, then waved her away. “Go get your sword.”

“My training sword?”

“Your real one. Roukanken.”

“Very well. … will you need a sword too?”

“Doesn't matter!” Youki said, in the groaning tone of voice that Youmu had learned to mean that she was asking too many questions. “Just bring it. I've got a present for ya.”

“... r-right!” Youmu bowed sharply and hurried toward the mansion, already wondering what he had in mind. He'd never given her a present. Not even so much as one yen on New Year's, when Yuyuko always showered her with gifts. She tried to keep her mind clear and focused on the lesson, but already, she could feel her excitement building.

It wasn't a long trip to her room, where Roukanken stood in a stand by her door. The sword was huge, longer than she was tall. Yuyuko had said that she would grow into it. The sword was too long for her to use comfortably, and even after she hanged it near-horizontal across her back, it almost dragged the ground. She had to carefully duck through the doorways on her way back out, but soon she was in the garden again.

She was barely out the door when Youki chucked something at her. She stumbled backward, and fumbled with it before it came to a stop in her hands. It was Hakurouken, Youki's wakizashi. The lacquered surface of the sheath felt cold under her fingers. “Master...?”

“Go on, put it on.” Youki was still sitting on the stairs of the shack, but he'd obviously had to go inside to get the sword. There was a battered leather bag on the steps next to him, with an equally weathered sword propped against it.

Youmu shot him a quizzical glance, but slid Hakurouken's strap over her shoulder and lowered it into place, hanging opposite Roukanken. She shifted her weight a few times to get comfortable with it.

Youki looked over her appraisingly. “... you look ridiculous,” he said with a snort.

“What am I doing with your sword?”

“Nothing. It's yours now.”

“I don't understand...?” Youmu reached back and grabbed the hilt, reassuring herself that the sword was real. “Why?”

Youki's hand twitched toward his robe, prepared to roll a cigarette, but he stopped himself. His eyes turned up to the sky again. “Hakurouken's been in the Konpaku clan for twenty generations. Passed down from master to his best student and all that.”

“I can't take your sword.”

“Only student I've got, aren't you?”

Youmu hardened her expression. “I'm not in your clan, either. I'm not taking your sword.”

She reached back to remove it, and was stopped by a curt gesture from him. “Get over here.”

Youmu approached the steps, and Youki pushed himself to standing and disappeared into his shack. A few seconds of rummaging noises followed. When he emerged again, he was carrying a potted plant tucked under one arm, a spool of twine and a pair of pruning shears in the other. He eased himself down to the steps, joints creaking, and got to work. First, the plant. The flowers were spindly pink things, with long curved petals. He hunted through them with his fingertips until he found one that met his approval, then snipped it off.

After sitting the flower aside, Youki moved on to the roll of twine. He cut off a short length of it and beckoned Youmu closer. She moved right up to the base of the steps. Youki leaned forward, and...

Youmu's experiences with Yuyuko had left her expecting a hug, from that motion. Instead, he reached past her and pulled Roukanken's sheath closer. The motion left him leaning against her, with his shoulder just below her chin. It was close enough that she could smell him. The dark tarry stink of his cigarettes, sap, dirt, and sweat. It was a smell that she'd gotten used to, somehow.

“There,” Youki said, and pulled back.

Youmu looked down. Near the bottom of Roukanken's sheath, Youki had tied the flower. It was lashed on with the length of twine, with its single blossom sticking up. Only now did her memory dredge up the name of the plant: wind orchid. Youki stepped back to lean against the shack. “As the, uh, acting head of the clan...” He trailed off and rubbed at his head. ”Whatever. You're a member now.”

It took a moment for Youmu's mind to catch up with the conversation. She pulled the sword forward again to look at the flower in confusion, then back to Youki. “A member of... your clan?”

“What I said, isn't it? You don't have a family name, right?”

“You're sure this is okay...?”

“I just told ya, didn't I?!”

Youmu's head was swimming, and her hand fretted with the hilt of Hakurouken. “Th-thank you, master!” she blurted, and folded her body in a jackknife bow. The swords threatened to slide off of her back.

“Doesn't mean much. As far as I know, it's just me, these days. Well, me and you now, I guess.”

Youmu straightened up and reached down to cup the flower. It felt delicate, like it might disintegrate with the slightest pressure. “But... why?”

“Eh. Even a no-name clan like this doesn't deserve to have me as its last member.”

Youmu resisted the urge to bow again. Her head felt like a dozen thoughts were tangled inside, and she had no hope of sorting them out. Her attention only turned back to the present when Youki crouched down and pulled his bag from the steps, then slung it over a shoulder. “Anyway. I'm going out,” he announced. “Got some business to take care of.”

“Oh.” Coming at the tail end of the strange conversation, Youmu wasn't sure how to respond to that statement. “Should I tell Lady Yuyuko that you'll be missing dinner?”

“Tell her... tell her you'll be taking over my duties for a while.” Youki grunted as he pulled the bag into a comfortable position, then lifted the battered sword from the steps and hanged it at his side. “And watch my orchids while I'm gone.” He jerked a thumb toward the shack. “Keep 'em indoors, but put them somewhere they can get some sun in the winter. Give them a little water on warm days.”

Youmu's head was swimming now. All she could think to do was bow. “I understand.”

“They're the last of their kind, so I'll be pissed if you let 'em die.”

“I-I'll do my best!” Youmu straightened up from her bow, and hesitated. “Will you... be gone a long time, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Last thing I need is a kid slowin' me down.”

“Where are you going...?”

“Away!” Youki hefted his bag again, and turned to look toward the horizon. “... hey, kid.”

“Yes?”

“Don't stop practicing while I'm gone. If I get back and you're rusty, I'll be pissed.”

“I'll practice every day!” Youmu said, barely resisting the urge to bow again.

“Hrm. You'd better.” Youki glanced back over his shoulder at her, and for a moment, Youmu thought that he was going to add something else. He looked away, though, and started walking. She didn't look away until the Netherworld's mists of time and memory had swallowed him.