Midnite's Daughter (Midnight Girl Book 1)

by R Gualtieri

  Perhaps that was key, though. Had he considered her a worthy adversary, this battle would have most likely been over already. He’d already proven himself capable of leveling the town if he wanted to. By dismissing her as nothing, he was perhaps already making a crucial error.

  If so, maybe it was time to use that against him.

  She ran at him, her fist raised in a sloppy attack. He made no move against her and she was able to connect with a pulled punch to his jaw. As expected, it had no effect whatsoever on him. It wasn’t nearly all Kisaki had to offer, but the utter lack of give from him made her wonder if her best shot would’ve had much more effect.

  At the very least, she’d proven her theory. He was toying with her, acting as if she was beneath contempt. No doubt his plan was to spar with her for a few moments, perhaps give her hope that she had a chance, only to then strike her down. Knowing that didn’t necessarily increase her odds of survival, but it didn’t hurt them either.

  It was a start.

  It was almost a finish, too, because again he swung his blade at her. Casual as it looked, she again just barely managed to dodge, parrying with a block to his arm.

  “Is that all you have to offer, hanyou?” Ichitiro asked, sounding bored. “I had hoped that perhaps you’d inherited something of amusement from your mother’s blood, but I have killed human cubs who have put up more fight than you.”

  Kisaki didn’t doubt his words for a moment. This foul creature seemed just the type to abuse his power against those weaker than him: warrior, woman, or child. It wouldn't matter to one such as him, drunk on his own power and having never tasted the sting of defeat.

  A plan began to form in Kisaki’s mind. A psychological edge, something her father had used against those other men. To intimidate a daimao was next to impossible for anything less than a god. But intimidation was only one possible advantage. Anything that threw the enemy off was a factor in one’s favor. That could be fear, sorrow, laughter, or...

  Ichitiro swiped a clawed hand at Kisaki, just barely missing her. She countered with some jabs that did nothing but make him laugh. “Draw your sword so that you might at least make some sport of it,” he commanded.

  “My sword?” she asked, making it a point to sound surprised. “To what purpose? So as to make this battle even more unfair than it already is?”

  Ichitiro let out a grunt of annoyance and swung his blade, faster this time. That was the ticket. Insult his ego and keep chipping away at him ... assuming she could keep dodging.

  She did, though, and this time followed through with a kick that brought her heel into contact with his wrist, nearly dislodging his weapon.

  Sadly, nearly wasn’t enough.

  “This kitten has fangs, I see,” Ichitiro replied. “Let us see how sharp.”

  “Sharp enough!” Shitoro cried from somewhere behind her. “Kisaki!”

  He didn’t need to finish saying her name, for she was already on the move when the torrent of water poured down from the sky onto the daimao. Steam erupted from where it hit his sword, sending up a blinding cloud of vapor around them.

  Ichitiro growled in annoyance, his voice giving Kisaki a clear target to focus on. She came in low, spinning, then kicking out, hitting him in the back of his knees.

  With a roar of anger, Ichitiro’s legs flew out from beneath him and he landed on his backside upon the ruined pavement.

  The time for holding back was over. He sat up almost immediately, only to catch Kisaki’s knee square in his face.

  Ichitiro was blindingly fast, swinging his weapon even as she felt the satisfying crunch of his nose. She’d anticipated it, though, and leapt over the attack to land behind him and launch an elbow into the side of his head.

  Angered, the daimao slammed a fist into the ground, shattering the pavement around them and causing Kisaki to stumble back as pieces of asphalt rained down upon her.

  By the time she looked up again, he was back on his feet.

  “You would dare?”

  “You thought yourself too good to set foot upon this world,” she snapped back. “But I have proven otherwise. You’re just another pig, worthy of the mud you wallow in, nothing more.”

  Any amusement that still remained in her foe’s eyes was erased in a second. Kisaki’s hunch had been right. Ichitiro acted little better than a spoiled child. When denied his toys, the only thing he knew how to do was throw a tantrum. Ancient he might be, immeasurably more experienced he was, but all of that training and discipline went right out the window when someone managed to get him good and angry.

  He was still perhaps the most dangerous entity to ever set foot upon this world, but his snarling rage could potentially cause him to act foolishly.

  Now she needed to make sure she didn’t do the same.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Power began to collect around Ichitiro, a dark grey miasma more like a storm cloud than anything. As if to confirm this, swirls of lightning could be seen flashing inside of it. “I will destroy this settlement and all in it, including you. Then I will pluck the Taiyosori from your charred bones. There will be nothing left for your mother to mourn save ashes, and those will be irrevocably mixed with the pathetic humans you share blood with.”

  “Mistress, I suggest we...”

  “I had considered sparing you, youkai,” Ichitiro continued, pointing a clawed finger at Shitoro. “But you are testing my patience, choosing this garbage over your rightful masters.”

  “So this is the true Ichitiro, then?” Kisaki replied, leaning casually against the wall of a building as he continued to draw in power. It was an effort to not run, an even greater effort to not shake as she spoke, but she held fast. “You cannot defeat one lone hanyou in fair combat, so you raze the entire countryside instead? Your bravery astounds. I can see why my mother chose a human warrior over you. All the power in the multiverse cannot hide your true nature.”

  No amount of magic could shield an ego the size of Ichitiro’s. She was well aware that he could finish this battle with but a single devastating show of power. But even if he claimed the Taiyosori in doing so, he would always know that he didn’t wrest it from her directly. She was counting on that being a sticking point.

  Amazingly, it seemed she might be right for he reined in the miasma around him, raising his sword instead. “So be it, hanyou,” he growled. “Know the wrath of Ichitiro.”

  Just as the last of the miasma dissipated, one of the fingers of lightning struck out. Kisaki was prepared to dodge, but it hadn’t been aimed at her. Instead it struck Shitoro, sending him flying back through the air until he hit the side of the diner they’d been hiding in. He slid down the wall and lay on the sidewalk unmoving.

  “Shitoro!”

  She’d been hoping to use the daimao’s pride against him but now realized her small victories had only served to inflate her own sense of self-worth. Ichitiro might be no better than a child drunk on his own power, but he was old beyond comprehension and apparently knew how to play this game as well.

  It was a sobering realization as she turned back to find that her foe had closed the distance between them with frightening speed and was even now preparing to hack her in two with his blade of black flame.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Kisaki was quick, even quicker than she realized, but it was still only barely enough. She managed to sidestep the awful black flames by only the barest of margins. The tips of her hair caught fire and her arm was singed as she stumbled out of the way.

  She began to realize there was no way she could win this with her skills alone.

  The throbbing of heat by her side seemed to confirm this.

  That was nothing, though, compared to the heat from her midsection as Ichitiro followed up with a slash from his free hand, tearing four shallow gashes across her abdomen. Kisaki cried out and lost her footing, falling on her backside in front of the war god.

  “Now you get your wish. Die by my hand like the filth you
are!”

  As he brought the sword down, Kisaki reached inside her jacket and grabbed hold of the quill inside.

  Please change, please change.

  She held it up to deflect the blow, but then could only stare wide-eyed as she found herself trying to fend off a fatal sword stroke with a meager feather.

  I’m sorry, Mother. Please forgive me.

  She closed her eyes and waited for the pain of the killing blow, hoping his aim was true.

  Instead, all she felt was a jarring impact within her arm as if a tremendous weight had fallen upon it. When she opened her eyes again, she was amazed to see the feather actually holding back the blazing hot blade of Ichitiro’s weapon.

  He was seemingly no less surprised. “What trickery is this?”

  Even with her back to the ground, she was finding it difficult to keep his weapon from descending further. He was frighteningly strong. She grabbed hold of the quill with both hands, the delicate feather somehow uncut by the cruel weapon being wielded by her enemy.

  Amazed as she was to still be alive, she was equally frustrated that the Taiyosori was still a feather. Unbreakable though it might seem, it was still not much use against a weapon that looked capable of slicing clean through a building.

  What am I doing wrong?

  It was a particularly poor moment for introspection. Yet, as Kisaki barely held off the killing blow, she was forced to consider what had allowed her to use the sword against Crag.

  She’d thought the quill useless. Had almost given up using it, but then it had burned the mazoku badly. It was in that instant she realized how much power the sword actually had. It was in that moment she believed in it.

  I believe in you.

  I believe in you!

  Still, it remained a quill, and she remained inches away from being bisected by a would-be god.

  “Now die!”

  “No!” a voice cried out just as multiple bolts of yellow magic exploded in front of Ichitiro’s eyes.

  “Shitoro!” He was alive.

  Ichitiro snarled and raised a hand to cover his face, momentarily taking the pressure off his attack.

  That gave Kisaki a chance to roll to the side and regain her feet, sidestepping her temporarily blinded foe.

  There has to be something else! She racked her mind, continuing to stare in frustration at the writing implement in her hands.

  It had seemed hopeless, her battle with Crag, albeit not as hopeless as this fight. At least she’d been able to injure him. Ichitiro might as well be made of solid rock for all the good her attacks had done.

  She ran over it again in her mind. The Taiyosori had changed back to its natural form, accepted her as its master. It had even told her so. So then what had caused it to...?

  Kisaki could have smacked herself. Its master. She was the sword’s rightful master now.

  I command you to change form!

  Nothing happened.

  It was almost enough to make her want to throw the damnable thing to the ground and let her foe take it. If it caused him as much frustration as it seemed intent on causing her, then surely the multiverse would survive.

  She knew that was the poorest of ideas, though. Ichitiro wasn’t some pretender to the throne like she was. He was a full-fledged daimao, a creature worthy of the blade’s power. His blood was pure, unlike...

  Realization hit in the space of an instant. There had been one more thing she’d done before the Taiyosori had changed into a sword. She’d plunged the tip through Crag’s eye.

  The weapon had tasted blood.

  40

  Kisaki wasn’t certain it would work. In fact, she was mostly convinced it wouldn’t. But she also realized she was unlikely to get another chance like this.

  Ichitiro was still blinded from Shitoro’s attack, but that was likely to buy her no more than another few seconds.

  Pushing hesitation to the side, she lifted the quill and drove it into the daimao’s wide back, saying a silent prayer to whatever deities protected the vastly outclassed.

  The tip of the quill somehow punctured Ichitiro’s thick armor and his equally tough flesh. It wasn’t a fatal wound by any means, barely a pinprick, but he threw his head back and roared as if she’d stabbed him directly in his black heart.

  Kisaki sensed the counterattack a moment before it happened. She yanked the quill out of Ichitiro’s back and leapt out of the way as he blindly swung his sword at her. The blade itself missed, but the black flames caught her jacket and it ignited.

  She barely had time to note the greasy black blood dripping from the tip of the quill when she was forced to strip off her jacket and toss it to the side before the rapidly growing flames consumed her.

  Her arm got stuck in one of the sleeves, and when she tried to yank it out, the fabric parted easily as a translucent blade emerged through the cloth, freeing her. Gone was the quill, and in its place was the blade of heaven.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Impossible!

  Ichitiro had been wounded before, as had any number of his brethren. It was part of who they were as a warrior race. Most injuries were inconsequential. It was one of the daimao’s great strengths. Their flesh was tough, strong, more than enough to deflect a sword or spear, and Ichitiro’s was thicker than most.

  On the rare occasion something did manage to penetrate, the damage would mend itself almost immediately. Indeed, he’d fought many a battle in which he’d let a foe deliver a blow simply to watch the triumph in their eyes turn to despair as his wounds closed up before their very eyes.

  It had been eons since he’d suffered an injury which refused to instantly heal, but that was exactly what had been somehow dealt to him.

  The girl’s unarmed strikes had been formidable, almost respectable in their speed and power, but they were nothing that would have felled a being such as him. A momentary amusement at best.

  But now he could feel the small trickle of blood continue to run down his back. It wasn’t debilitating or even particularly painful, but that wasn’t the point. This creature, a hanyou of all things, had actually injured him.

  It had to have been a fluke, some bizarre side effect of her mother’s blood – a momentary spark of power before being snuffed out forever. Or perhaps a hallucination, a foul miasma of the hanyou’s own that he hadn’t thought to counter.

  That had to be it. First there was that feather, a fragile thing, yet seemingly able to deflect his own weapon, the Kaokatta. He’d forged it himself in the heart of a black flame volcano upon a dying world, had used it to cleave mountains in two. So to see it bested by a swan’s quill was madness itself.

  Then there was the treachery of that accursed youkai, allowing the hanyou to stab him in the back like a coward.

  Nothing more than tricks.

  They’d picked the wrong entity to toy with. If they hoped their cleverness would save them, they were wrong, so very wrong.

  Ichitiro shook his head to clear the sparks from his vision, then turned to face where he sensed his foe to be. He was intent on finishing this. Let her try to fend off his full wrath with a mere feather.

  Instead, he found the girl holding that which he both desired and feared most, the Taiyosori. Its glasslike blade was leveled at him, the point upon it so sharp it seemed to almost disappear.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The look of surprise on Ichitiro’s face echoed that on Kisaki’s, though she tried her best to cover it up. She didn’t know what the other daimao knew of the Taiyosori’s powers, but he seemed shocked to find it in her hands.

  This was what Kisaki had hoped for, something to throw him off his game. She still wasn’t certain what advantage, if any, that gave her in the long run, but at the moment, she was counting every extra minute of life as a small victory.

  She prepared to rush the daimao and test exactly how sharp the blade of heaven was, but then the roar of engines caught her ears.

  Both combatants turned to se
e humans headed their way in news vans, police cars, and more, but that wasn’t all. Other vehicles, larger than this first wave, were closing in on them from off in the distance, a deep rumbling emanating from them that she could already feel beneath her feet.

  Airships could be seen on the horizon as well – helicopters, Tamiko had called them – although whether to attack or observe, she didn’t know. If the former, she prayed they realized Ichitiro was the enemy here. She didn’t favor coming as far as she had only to be felled by misguided hands.

  Ichitiro glanced back to her and smiled, his sharp teeth glinting black in the midday sun. “So it seems I have other witnesses to behold my victory. I have no further need for your kitten.”

  Kisaki’s eyes opened wide at the implication. “Shitoro, run!”

  Ichitiro held out his palm toward where the tiger demon stood, power gathering in and around his hand. “Now, youkai, learn the price of daring to annoy your betters.”

  Kisaki didn’t think. There was no time. She just acted.

  In the moment before Ichitiro unleashed his attack, she was on the move, throwing herself in front of him and trying to shield her friend.

  “Two for the price of one?” he asked, bemused. “Very well.”

  He let loose with a shimmering torrent of power.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  A wave of pure force, the same he’d used to devastate nearly half the town, issued forth from Ichitiro’s outstretched hand. It was as if one combined the power of a tsunami and an avalanche into one invisible wall of energy.

  The street in front of the daimao exploded as the concussive blast tore through it, heading toward Kisaki and her companion.

  “Mistress, save yourself! Get out of the...” The rest of Shitoro’s warning was lost in the cacophony of destruction that barreled toward them.

  Kisaki’s first instinct was to grab up the little youkai, shield him with her body as best she could as the end came for them. However, the Taiyosori pulsed in her hand, seeming to disagree with that course of action. Though Kisaki was certain it was madness to attribute opinions to an object, she also realized her plan was good for only one thing: dying in a most painful manner.