The Cursed (Yokai Watch)

Chapter III: Pupil

Muramasa didn't even bother brandishing his sword. Instead, he whirled around and rammed its ornate, wooden hilt right into the left side of his former apprentice's face.

The loud crack of wood hitting flesh was enough to make Fumi wince in sympathy.

Kagero went careening end over end to land sprawled in the dirt. A ring of tan dust rose up around him.

He looked up from the ground, coughing heavily. His left eye was already starting to swell shut. "You...You jerk!" Kagero wobbled up unsteadily from his landing zone, swaying like a drunkard. "You are supposed to fight me, not hit me."

"If you couldn't even dodge that, then you will never stand against me as a true warrior," said Muramasa. "Give up before you hurt yourself."

Fumi watched as Kagero's yellow eyes filled with tears. She felt sorry for him. While she couldn't disagree with Muramasa, she was not a fan of how he spoke to the other yokai. "I guess you're right," Kagero said.

"Good. I'm glad we've reached a proper understanding of how things work." Muramasa pointed his sword towards Kagero, the sharp tip inches away from his face. "Now pay up."

"Oh no." Kagero jolted out of his sadness, tiny beads of tears flying away from his face. "Please don't make me do it, you know I hate doing it."

"Hey." Fumi couldn't stand watching this cruel exchange any longer. "Whatever you want him to do, just have me do it." It couldn't be worse than the ball and chain of a curse she'd already afflicted upon herself.

Muramasa rolled his eyes tilting his head in her direction. "I can't, it'll just make the blade hungrier." He snickered, watching an old man hobble by, only to pause not far from Fumi. "I'd also be careful when speaking to us yokai in public."

Oh god. She noticed the old man had paused to watch her, a look of suspicion and concern shadowing his dark eyes. To any outsider, she looked like she was having an angry conversation with no one but herself. Her face burned with embarrassment, only cooling once the old man shook his head dismissively and began to amble away. Living in this world with a rude yokai companion that only she could see was going to take some serious getting used to.

"Please," Kagero continued his feeble bargaining attempt, "I'll do anything but touch that thing. Please tell me you remember that I hate that awful sword."

"I actually do remember that you hate this awful sword." He stalked forward, letting the pointed tip push gently into Kagero's chest. "But I already cut myself on it once today. I don't feel like doing it again, and since you're the one who made me draw it to begin with, you should have the honor of putting it back to sleep."

Fumi saw Muramasa slice his own hand in the woods before returning the sword to its scabbard, but she had tried not to think about it and managed to keep it from her mind until now. If Muramasa's name was a reference to the legendary swordsmith – and she was certain it was – that meant that in order to return the blade to its scabbard, it needed to taste an offering of fresh blood. A wave of squeamishness caused her to shudder. And to think it wanted her to serve in his place.

Kagero groaned through his nose as he extended a hesitant hand towards the blue blade. "I'm only doing this because you spared my life." He grabbed the tip and yanked his dainty purple hand down the sword, leaving a dribbling trail of red in its wake.

"Much obliged, Kagero," said Muramasa, sheathing his blade and bowing in a way that was far too exaggerated to be sincere. "Now go. Leave. I have more important things at hand than catching up with old 'friends'."

"No, please don't leave!" Kagero reached out towards Muramasa, trying to grab onto his cloak. He missed, toppling face-first into the dirt. "Please take me with you, I'm so tired of being alone."