The next few days were boring. Like, mind-numbingly, watch-paint-dry boring. I spent my time restocking supplies, training with Grandpa, and enduring Grandma's lectures on the hundred and one ways a demon can trick you. After the little skirmish at the shrine, I was itching for some real action, but the spirit world seemed to be on a coffee break.
"I'm heading into town!" I announced one afternoon, already halfway out the door. "We're almost out of rice, and I think I saw a gray hair on Grandpa's head, so we're clearly low on his favorite hair dye, too."
"I heard that!" Grandpa yelled from the training yard.
Grandma just grunted, not looking up from the scroll she was studying. "Fine. But take the long way around, by the old bridge. I've had a bad feeling about the main road."
"Sure, sure," I said, waving her off. A 'bad feeling' could mean anything from a surprise rain shower to a legendary demon deciding to pop by for tea. With Grandma, you never knew.
The path to town was quiet and sunny. It was almost nice enough to make me forget about the constant threat of being eaten. Almost. As I approached the old wooden bridge that spanned a wide, slow-moving river, I saw him.
He was leaning against the railing, staring down at the water. Even from a distance, I knew that shock of messy, vibrant blue hair. It was a color you just didn't forget. My steps slowed, my heart doing a weird little pitter-patter thing in my chest.
"Kizawa?" I said, my voice barely a whisper.
He turned, and his eyes-the color of a clear summer sky-widened in surprise. A slow, lopsided grin spread across his face, the same one that used to get us into so much trouble as kids. He was taller now, broader in the shoulders, and the single katana sheathed at his hip looked like it belonged there.
"Mizuki? No way," he said, pushing off the railing and walking toward me. "Look at you. Still got that crazy silver hair."
"And you've still got that ridiculous blue mop," I shot back, a huge smile breaking free on my face. "Did you fall into a vat of dye again?"
He laughed, a warm, familiar sound that I hadn't realized I'd missed so much. "Nah. This is all-natural, baby. Pure, unadulterated coolness."
Before I could come up with a witty retort, I did something that surprised even me. I closed the distance between us and threw my arms around him in a hug. He tensed for a second, surprised, before his arms wrapped around me, pulling me in. He smelled of wind and steel. It felt… safe. Like coming home.
Kizawa and I, along with Erima, had been inseparable as kids. We trained together, fought imaginary demons together, and swore we'd become the greatest demon-hunting team ever. But his family had moved away five years ago, and letters had eventually trickled to a stop.
"It's been a long time," he said, pulling back, his hands still on my shoulders. "What are you doing here?"
"I live here, remember?" I said, punching his arm playfully. "What about you? I thought you were in the capital."
"Family business," he said, his smile tightening just a little. "We moved back a few weeks ago. I was just… thinking."
Before I could press him, a low growl echoed from under the bridge. It was a wet, guttural sound that instantly put both of us on edge. We exchanged a look, a silent communication perfected over years of childhood adventures. Trouble.
We moved to the edge of the bridge and peered over. Crouched in the muddy riverbank below was a Kappa. It was a nasty-looking thing, a mix between a turtle and a monkey, with scaly green skin and a shallow, water-filled dish on top of its head. It was a basic demon, but they were known for being incredibly strong and drowning their victims.
It was dragging something from the water - a small deer.
"Looks like we found the reason for Grandma's bad feeling," I muttered, my hand instinctively going to my daggers.
"Just one?" Kizawa asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Easy peasy."
"Feeling cocky, are we?" I smirked. "Alright, Blue-hair. Let's see if you've gotten any better since we were ten."
"Oh, you have no idea," he grinned. "Prepare to be amazed."
In a single, fluid motion, he vaulted over the railing, landing silently on the riverbank. The Kappa looked up, startled, letting out a furious hiss. Kizawa didn't hesitate. His blade was out in a flash, a blur of silver in the sunlight. He moved with a grace that was new, a confidence that he hadn't had as a boy. He was fast, his single-sword style precise and deadly.
The Kappa was strong, though. It swiped at him with its webbed claws, and Kizawa was forced to give ground, his blade deflecting the blows with loud clangs.
"A little help wouldn't hurt!" he called out, parrying another attack. "Unless you're just enjoying the show!"
"Just wanted to give you a chance to shine!" I yelled back, leaping down to join him. I drew Gin and Kin, the familiar weight of them a comfort in my hands.
The Kappa, seeing another opponent, screeched and tried to splash water from the dish on its head, a move meant to weaken its foes. I was too fast. I darted in, my daggers a flurry of motion, creating a series of shallow cuts on its arms and legs. I was a distraction, forcing it to focus on me while Kizawa regrouped.
"Its head! The dish is its weak spot!" I reminded him.
"I know!" he grunted, dodging another clumsy swipe. "This thing is tougher than it looks!"
He was right. It was absorbing his sword strikes on its hard, shell-like back. My daggers weren't doing much more than annoying it. We needed a new plan.
"Switch!" I yelled.
He understood immediately. He disengaged, drawing the Kappa's attention. As it turned its back to me, I saw my opening. I ran, using a nearby boulder as a launchpad, and flipped through the air, right over the creature's head. In that split second, I brought the pommels of both my daggers down hard on the edge of the dish.
Crack.
The ceramic dish fractured, and the water spilled out. The Kappa froze, letting out a horrified, gurgling cry. Its power was gone.
Kizawa didn't waste the opportunity. He lunged forward, but this time, he did something I'd never seen before. In a motion so fast I almost missed it, he drew a second, shorter sword-a wakizashi-from his back. He was holding two swords.
His attack was a whirlwind of steel. He wasn't just a swordsman anymore; he was a dancer. A torrent of slashes, blocks, and parries overwhelmed the weakened Kappa. The final strike was a dual slash to the neck that was both brutal and beautiful.
The Kappa dissolved into black dust, which the river breeze quickly carried away.
Silence.
Kizawa stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, before sheathing both his blades. He turned to me, that lopsided grin back on his face.
"Dual-samurai style," he said, a little breathlessly. "Expert level. Pretty cool, huh?"
I just stared at him for a second, then broke into a wide smile. "Expert level? You almost got your butt handed to you by a glorified turtle."
He rolled his eyes. "I had it under control. I was just lulling it into a false sense of security."
"Right," I said, nudging him with my shoulder as we climbed back up to the bridge. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
We started walking toward town together, the earlier awkwardness gone, replaced by the easy camaraderie we'd always shared. It felt like no time had passed at all.
"You know," he said, his voice a little more serious. "It's good to see you, Mizuki. I've missed this."
"Me too, Kizawa," I admitted. "Me too."
It felt like a piece of my past had just clicked back into place. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn't fighting alone anymore.