Chương 22: Sheathed

"'I' is the word we use to denote ourselves in speech," Mrs. Gable told Kurisu, a phrase he had heard fifty times too many, as if the language expected him to simply conform to its narrow shape.

"Again, that is absurd!" Kurisu argued.

"How does one denote their proper standing?"

"They don't," Mrs. Gable sighed, tapping her marker against the whiteboard.

"Kurisu, 'I' is the first-person singular pronoun. It's the same as your ' ware', we've been over this." Kurisu tapped the screen, speaking firmly into the microphone, refusing to yield the point." Ware is not'watakushi','ore', or'boku'."

"Yes, you are," Mrs. Gable insisted.

"They are Japanese ways of saying 'I.' They all translate to the same thing in English.

'I.' You use 'ware', which is archaic and formal, but it still means 'I.' You need to simplify your approach." With a forward lean, Kurisu pointed to his chest." Ware," he grunted.

"If 'I' denotes these other forms, it cannot possibly reach ware. Ware wa 'ware' nari." Meeting Mrs. Gable's eyes, he declared, "English. Needs. New. Word." As she rubbed her temples, Mrs. Gable attempted again to explain.

"Kurisu, there are no other first-person pronouns in English. There's just 'I.' It covers all of that. It's universal." Kurisu leaned back in his chair, picking up his pencil, clicking the lead repeatedly as he muttered his disagreement, closing his notebook.

"The scope is wholly inadequate."

"I." When he tested the word on his tongue, it felt insufficient, small. Kurisu shuddered, shaking his head as if trying to cleanse the syllable from his tongue.

"Wish. Ware. English." Through half-lidded eyes, he leveled a stare at the instructor.

"Ware is not of the sort known as 'I'." Kenji slumped into the chair beside Kurisu, letting his backpack fall to the floor before pulling his cracked phone out and setting it on the desk between them as a mediator.

"Alright, teach me." Turning to look at the other boy, Kurisu spoke into the cracked device.

"Will you ever get that fixed?" Shifting to English, he asked, "Thing occur?" With a half-shrug, Kenji leaned back.

"Still works. You could say that. There's a hole in our kitchen that a green, oversized rat on steroids made when it attacked me. I couldn't do anything. Froze up. Got a nice souvenir on my arm for it, too. I think I'll take that magic healing spell you have, as well." Kurisu allowed a fleeting grin to break his neutral expression, nodding his agreement.

"Break… train." With his feet planted wide in the grass, Kenji sank into a low stance, his forehead beading with sweat despite the shade of the oak tree as he held his right hand in a fist.

"Again," Kurisu commanded. Taking a deep breath, Kenji attempted to draw the energy from his chest, his visual strain apparent as he tried to force the internal heat down his shoulder, through his elbow, and into his knuckles. As he drove his fist forward with a grunt, Kenji's fist connected with Kurisu's open palm, delivering an underwhelming smack.

A localized sting flared against Kurisu's skin, the heat transferring upon contact and lingering like a brand as he closed his hand, rubbing his thumb over the red mark.

"Lukewarm," Kurisu evaluated. Kenji shook his hand out, grimacing.

"Great. So I'm basically a heated blanket. Useful for cold nights, but useless in a fight." Kurisu held up his hand to show the mark.

"The skin of a ko-oni is thin, little more than dregs. Applying this heat will burn them cleanly. That is sufficient." Kurisu watched the logic settle into the boy's features as Kenji looked at his fist and nodded. Dropping his hand, Kurisu added, "At the moment, you will require many strikes. Yet, with discipline, repetition will bridge that gap." At the implication, Kenji groaned, dropping his shoulders.

"So I have to speed-bag them until I get stronger. Got it." Kenji grabbed his bag and wiped the sweat from his brow, cutting their training short as the school bell rang.

"Let's go before we're late for math." Being late proved to be the least of their concerns. The flow of traffic had ground to a halt upon arriving at the 100 building, the hallway packed as tight as a rice bale with a knot of students gathered outside Room 104. Backs pressed against the lockers, they held their phones out, recording something through the door's narrow window. Kenji stood on his toes, frowning as he tried to peer over the shifting crowd.

"What's going on?" By the door, Ms. Addison gripped the handle, her hair hanging disheveled around her face as she shouted at a freshman to get back.

"Back! Everyone get back! Security is on the way!" Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. A crash echoed from inside the room, followed by the screech of claws dragging across a chalkboard. Grimacing at the noise, Kurisu moved toward the door, pushing through the throng of students.

"Kurisu, wait!" Kenji hissed, reaching out to grab his sleeve. Ignoring the boy, Kurisu reached the door, looking through the glass slat to find the classroom floor littered with overturned desks and scattered papers. A scrawny ko-oni crouched atop the teacher's desk, its yellow eyes darting around the trapped space. A nearby girl whispered her account, trembling.

"It ran in during the passing period. Ms. Addison saw it and got everyone out, then locked it in." Seeming to realize the ceiling tiles offered no escape, the ko-oni dropped onto the teacher's desk, its head twitching to sniff the air before spotting the exterior window behind it." Sachi seri," Kurisu whispered. Turning on his heel, Kurisu shoved through the throng of students clogging the space, bolting for the double doors at the end of the hall.

"Dude!" Kenji yelled, scrambling to catch up. With a shriek, the ko-oni launched itself at the glass, shattering the pane and tumbling onto the grass outside, landing just a few dozen yards from the open cafeteria doors as the students in the hallway screamed. Lifting her cell phone, Ms. Addison yelled into the receiver.

"It's out! It's on the lawn!" As he burst through the doors, Kurisu watched the ko-oni shake off the glass shards. The creature hissing and baring its teeth as it spotted a group of students eating lunch at a picnic table, made directly for the young girl sitting in the grass closest to it.

His hand instinctively went to his side, gripping the empty air where a sword hilt should have been so he brought a surge of power up from his Tanden, visualizing the Fūki as a blade of vacuum designed to sever the head cleanly from the shoulders. Raising his hand, he straightened his fingers into a knife-hand strike, the air around his fingertips beginning to distort with a whine.

"No playing hero. You stay hidden." Steven's voice echoed in his mind.

"No I-70 debacle." Slowing his step, Kurisu let the energy dissipate, the shimmer flickering as it faded.

"Like the rest of the powerless humans." Gritting his teeth, he clamped down on his Ki. I am NOT powerless!

"I know, but he's our son now!" Charlotte's voice cut through the memory.

"I don't want blood on your hands. It's not right."" Ware Samurai nari!" Kurisu shouted, dashing forward and moderating his speed to human limits while he tracked the ko-oni leaping at the girl as she recoiled and tried to roll away, screaming. Throwing his weight forward, he slammed his shoulder into the creature's ribs, tackling it out of the air.

They hit the grass together, rolling in a tangle of limbs as the ko-oni scrabbled with its claws, tearing at the sleeve of his shirt, and scratching feebly at the skin beneath. Without regard for the ruined fabric, Kurisu grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck and its wrist, twisting the beast and forcing it face-down into the dirt.

While the ko-oni attempted to thrash, Kurisu drove his weight down with his knee on the creature's shoulder blade, slamming a palm strike into the base of its skull, rendering the beast limp as its eyes rolled back. Kurisu stood up, looking down at the unconscious creature with a scowl. It deserves to be erased, yet here it is, continuing to breathe in the dirt. He shifted to regard the girl, who appeared to have no injuries." Buji ka?"

he asked, receiving only a blank stare in response, before turning to the approaching crowd with a shrug. Dozens of students stared at him across the lawn, their phones raised in the sudden quiet as Ms. Addison ran out from the hallway, stopping short.

"Oh my god. Is it... is it dead?" Kurisu shook his head.

"Sleep." As sirens wailed in the distance, the school security guard rolled around the corner on his Segway, waving his arms and shouting for everyone to get back.

"Back! Everybody back!" Taking a couple of steps away from the ko-oni, Kurisu dusted off his jeans and checked his shirt, noting the shredded sleeve despite the barest of white scratches on his skin beneath. Brad pushed his way through the circle of students, pointing a finger at Kurisu.

"What the hell was that? You just... you just took that thing down. You barely even hit it; you just grabbed its wrist!" Kurisu stared at the boy.

"What are you?" Brad asked, stepping closer.

"That ain't normal." Kenji slid between them.

"Chill, Brad, it's obviously Karate or something. I mean, come on, you think a six-foot-tall Asian wouldn't know how to do a takedown?" Brad looked at Kenji.

"Yeah? Then what's your excuse?"

"I was born here and not raised in a monastery," Kenji said quickly.

"He's... he's a black belt. Like a really high degree, from Japan. It's, um, Judo and Karate, mixed. He practices a lot." Receiving what he could only assume was a very pointed expression from Kenji, Kurisu felt prompted to agree, looking from Kenji to Brad before recalling the word Kellevra had used prior.

"Yes," he said.

"Kung Fu." The security guard waved his hand, ushering Brad and Kenji away from the creature.

"Come on, back up. Since you took it down, you're fine," he added to Kurisu.

"But I'd prefer you stay to keep it down." He let out a nervous chuckle, turning back to the students to shout for them to step away. Kurisu ignored the commotion, standing near the unconscious creature with his arms loose at his sides as he scanned the roofline for the threats that logic dictated should follow a scout.

"Move! Let us through!" The shout commanding the students to move echoed from the hallway doors, splitting the circle apart as two officers sprinted onto the grass, moving with purpose as they took one look at the green heap before turning to the teenager standing beside it.

"Did you do this?" one officer barked, stepping closer. Assuming they were inquiring about his involvement, Kurisu gave a slow nod.

"Sleep." Stepping in, Kenji raised his hands, rushing to explain.

"Officer, wait, he just stopped it! It was trying to attack a girl by the picnic tables. He just kinda jumped in the way and grabbed it before it could hurt anyone." The officer blinked at the sudden wall of words, kneeling by the ko-oni to press two fingers against its oily skin.

"It's alive," he called to his partner, then looked up at Kenji.

"And you are?"

"His pal," Kenji said.

"He doesn't speak English." The officer looked back to Kurisu, his gaze dropping to the torn shirt and the faint scratch. Shifting his stance, Kurisu casually pulled at the shredded fabric to obscure the bare skin.

"You tackled this thing?" the officer asked.

"Kung Fu," Kurisu repeated.