Chương 35: Inconsistent Derivations

Bokuto resting on his shoulder, Kurisu paced in a lazy circle around his students, observing their struggle to maintain a Kiba-dachi under the strain of two atmospheres before he paused beside Ace. His legs quivering, Ace locked his gaze onto a single pebble in the dirt, the boy's jaw clenched against the visible tremors in his quads as sweat dripped from his forehead to sting his unblinking eyes.

"Lower your center," Kurisu instructed, tapping the back of Ace's knee with his weapon. A grunt slipping past his teeth, Ace slowly eased his hips down another inch to deepen the Kiba-dachi, the posture forcing the muscles of his legs to bear the brunt of his weight. Kurisu compounded that burden, gradually shifting the ambient pressure over the three of them.

By altering the atmospheric force without warning, he ensured they could never adapt to a constant weight, punishing any physical weakness or lapse in Ki circulation. To his left, Kellevra hissed through his teeth, a fleck of spittle flying from his lips as his face flushed red; meanwhile, to his right, Kenji stood with closed eyes, his breath ragged as he circulated the Ki required to remain standing. After stopping behind the youngest boy, Kurisu pressed his hand down on Kellevra's shoulder.

As his knees buckled slightly under the added weight, Kellevra sank lower, trembling through the strain burning in his thighs.

"Just as the great camphor tree sinks its roots deep into the earth," Kurisu lectured, removing his hand before pacing slowly behind them.

"We too shall forge our foundation before reaching out with our branches." Pulling the phone from his belt, Kurisu waited for the app to finish translating his words, checking the clock to find they had held the position for forty-five minutes.

"Kurisu," Ace rasped.

"Speak."

"If we drop… Do we start over?" the boy asked, his voice straining with the effort.

"Without question," Kurisu replied with a faint smile. With his core tightened, Ace dug his heels into the earth, his leg muscles trembling beneath the strain as his jaw locked in a stubborn refusal to drop. Three hours later at the dining room table, Kurisu stared at the worksheet with his hands resting on his knees. Across from him, Ace spun a pen effortlessly through his fingers.

"Again," Ace prompted. O-U-G-H, a sequence appearing in every word on the list, yet shifting its sound with maddening inconsistency. Rough.

"Ruff," Kurisu read.

"Good. Next." Dough. Methodically, Kurisu applied the previous phonetic rule.

"Duff."

"Wrong." Sprawled on his back across the cushions of the living room couch, Kenji didn't even look up from his phone.

"It's Doe. D-O-E." Jaw muscle twitching, Kurisu exhaled slowly through his nose, looked at the third word, Plough, and discarded the previous rule.

"Plow." Ace grinned.

"Correct. Next." Through, a word resembling Rough and Dough so perfectly it demanded the exact same logic, which of course meant absolutely none.

"Threw," Kurisu stated.

"Nice. You're getting it. Next." Though. Because it appeared as Through minus the R, he attempted another shift.

"Thew."

"Wrong," the fourteen-year-old called out from the couch.

"It's Tho. Just drop the R from throw." Gripping the table's edge, Kurisu caused the wood to groan and compress beneath his fingers, while the ambient pressure across the open rooms thickened. The invisible weight dropped. A smack sounded from the couch as the phone slipped from Kenji's grip to strike his face, while across the table, Ace's shoulders slumped under the force.

"This tongue is devoid of all logic," Kurisu stated, exhaling a frustrated breath.

"Says the guy whose written language uses the exact same symbol for 'life,' 'birth,' and 'raw beer,'" Kellevra pointed out, walking into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water before turning to the counter.

"But pronounces it sei, umu, or nama depending on the mood," he finished, taking a drink. The boy slapped both hands down, sputtering water all over the counter as his knees buckled, wiping his mouth to glare across the room at his new brother.

"Jerk," he muttered.

"English only," Ace grunted through clenched teeth, struggling to point the pen at him.

"You make us do squats for bad form, so we make you restart the list for bad pronunciation."

"Yeah," Kenji groaned, rubbing his nose as he peeled himself off the cushions.

"And you don't get to squash us just because your English sucks."

"Circulate your Ki," Kurisu replied flatly, narrowing his eyes as he absorbed the smug satisfaction bleeding through their complaints. Glancing at the phone resting on the table, he noted the time.

"Kenji. How much of my debt remains?" While pushing back against the pressure, Kenji checked his watch.

"You made us hold that damn stance for sixty-four minutes. My thighs are still burning. A two-to-one ratio means you owe us over two hours." He tapped his glass watch face.

"You've got forty minutes left." When he turned back to the list, Kurisu fixed his eyes on the final word: Thorough.

"Thoruff," he guessed, applying the very first rule.

"Wrong," Ace said.

"It's Thur-oh. Start over."

"Ruff... Doe... Plow... Threw... Tho... Thur-oh," he recited, forcing the sounds past his teeth.

"Again." Ace tapped his pen against the table.

"Faster." A strip of black cloth tied over his eyes, Kellevra stood motionless in the twilight, his breath pluming white in the cold air. The heat of late summer had long since faded into the frost of November. Despite the state of emergency, schools still held classes, and after the final bell, the boys completed their studies before training at either the Millers' or the Tetsuyas'. Parked at the end of the block, the unmarked black sedan sat facing the house.

The Homeland Security stakeout had become as mundane as the morning frost, the agents inside never seeming to move, leaving the family to assume the vehicle simply swapped shifts in the night. Feet planted shoulder-width apart on the frozen dirt, the nine-year-old showed no outward signs of being chilled. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"Perceive the intent." Without shifting his stance, Kurisu flicked his wrist, snapping the first acorn against Ace's forehead. Nervous energy vibrating through him, Ace had reacted to the empty wind, jumping at shadows just before the impact.

"Ow!" he yelped, reaching up to rub a fresh welt. On the other side, Kenji stood still. Using his own mildly developed Zanshin, a projection of awareness Kurisu felt brush against his own skin like a faint static charge, Kenji tracked the subtle shift in the swordsman's weight, dropping into a crouch a split second before Kurisu flicked his wrist again, snapping a second acorn against the fence. Nodding, Kurisu turned his attention back to Kellevra.

Testing if the boy could feel the earth speak, he drove his back foot down, pushing a slight tremor through the grass to Kellevra's soles. As Kellevra shifted his weight to his left leg, the acorn buzzed past his ear, striking the wood behind him.

"Good," Kurisu said.

"Solid." A small smile tugged at the corner of Kellevra's mouth beneath his blindfold. While ignoring the constant news broadcasts of rift incursions plaguing the suburbs, the Miller household handled the mayhem like a mundane set of evening chores. When three red ko-oni resembling the green scavengers they had fought previously lunged for Ace, the boy stepped inside the lead creature's guard and drove a flaming hook into its jaw.

Knocking its head back, he leveled his palms, blasting the remaining two into the wooden slats with a concentrated burst of his fire. To his right, two more charged Kenji. With a snap of his fingers he generated a flash of light that served to blind the attackers before dropping his center of gravity, sweeping his leg in a wide arc to knock the scavengers off their feet.

Stepping behind the creatures, Kellevra stomped his heel against the frosted grass, driving hardened clay up from the soil to bind their wrists and ankles.

"Well, these are new," Ace commented, nudging one of the creatures with his shoe.

"Cousins of the green kind," Kurisu replied.

"Very common."

"We should start patrolling the neighborhood," Ace suggested, lighting a small flame on his thumb.

"Take the fight to them before they cross the fence."

"Yeah," Kellevra agreed, stepping up beside his brother.

"We could clear the whole block." Kenji snorted.

"And do what? Wander around looking for needles in a haystack? There's a million backyards in this city."

"Kenji is correct," Kurisu said, lowering his bokuto.

"To seek the enemy without knowing their numbers or nesting grounds is foolish. We should maintain our own perimeter rather than wander blindly into the unknown. Furthermore, Steven has repeatedly voiced his aversion to the government's scrutiny. Hunting these creatures through the streets would inevitably invite the very exposure he wishes to avoid." Grabbing the ko-oni like luggage, the boys dragged the creatures through the side gate, abruptly stopping as they caught sight of the DHS stake out vehicle.

"Oh, shit!" Kenji started, ducking back behind the side of the house.

"Ace, zip-ties! We can't drag them out there with these mud-cuffs on them. That dude'll have a fit for sure!" As Ace darted back to the back door, Kellevra huffed.

"They're stone-cuffs, but whatever."

"My bad, but I don't think that's super important right now," Kenji shrugged, with Ace making his way back into view. After staking out the house for the last several months, the black sedan finally moved. Creeping a whole three houses down the street, the vehicle swung into the driveway just as the last zip-tie replaced the clay restraints. Having loaded the creatures into his backseat, Agent Cox pivoted toward their porch.

"Thanks for taking out the trash, Agent," Charlotte called out from the edge of the asphalt.

"Since you have your animals, we're done here."

"Ma'am, I need to assess the security of the residence," he argued, attempting to move around her. Stepping into his path to block him, she smiled.

"Thank you, Agent. Come back with either a warrant or a pizza. Otherwise, don't come back at all." As Kellevra chewed leftover pepperoni pizza by the refrigerator, Kurisu focused entirely on the flashcards, ignoring the winter storm rattling the sliding glass door. Across the kitchen island, Kenji sat on a barstool, grinning like a shark as he flipped the flashcards onto the countertop, the sharp snap cutting through the thunder outside.

"Went," Kurisu said.

"Ate. Bought. Fought." Without his previous hesitation he answered, keeping pace with the tempo. With a chuckle, Kenji increased the speed, hiding the text to show only the images.

"Dog," Kurisu answered.

"Car. Tree. Apple." From the fridge, Kellevra asked, "What's the past perfect conjugation of she runs?" Staring at Kenji's hands, Kurisu didn't miss a beat.

"She had run."

"Nice," Kellevra noted. As he shuffled the deck, Kenji slapped a new card down.

"Antonyms," he announced.

"Fast."

"Slow," Kurisu replied.

"Weak," Kenji challenged.

"Strong."

"Monster."

"Human," Kurisu answered. With a laugh, Kenji flicked the next card straight at the swordsman's face.

"Catch!" A blurred hand snatched the card out of the air inches from his nose, turning it around so Kurisu could display the word REFLEX to Kellevra before gently setting it on the pile.

"Okay, show-off," Ace said, leaning against the counter.

"Let's try contractions again. Do not becomes don't. Can not becomes can't."

"Therefore, will not becomes willn't," Kurisu stated.

"Wrong," Kenji pointed out.

"It's won't."

"Where does the O come from?" Kurisu asked, his brow furrowing.

"That violates the established structure."

"It's just how people talk," Ace said with a shrug.

"It saves time."

"Discarding letters to mash words together, only to then arbitrarily introduce new ones, serves no logical purpose," Kurisu stated.

"I simply will not use them." Kenji facepalmed, dragging a hand down his face, while Kellevra groaned." Hajime." Kellevra stomped his heel into the slush of the thawing backyard, sending a ripple of displaced mud surging toward Kurisu's legs like a shark fin. Stepping onto the crest of the mud-wave as if it were a stone stair, Kurisu balanced on the shifting terrain.

"Too slow," he called out. After launching himself off Kellevra's shoulder, Ace led with a fist wreathed in orange flame, swinging a haymaker at Kurisu's chest in hopes of forcing a hard block. Instead, the boy found empty air, his momentum carrying him forward as the swordsman pivoted inside the arc and tapped the white oak blade against his elbow, sending the fire-user skidding face-first into the mud.

"You overextend," Kurisu pointed out, sidestepping.

"Your balance is poor." Flowing into the blind spot created by Ace's tumble, Kenji conjured a searing burst of light to mask his approach, driving a flaming axe kick down toward the swordsman's shoulder. Unfazed by the glare, Kurisu let his Zanshin track the teenager's shifting weight, raising his bokuto to intercept the drop. When his shin met the wood of the weapon, the impact jarred his bone, yet Kenji grinned through his pain, the strike having served only as bait.

"Now!" he shouted. From twenty feet away, Kellevra clenched his fist, hurling a jagged pillar of hardened clay up from the thawing mud to strike at Kurisu's chest just as Ace scrambled up to unleash a blast of flame from behind, sandwiching their target between earth and fire. As he dropped his center of gravity, Kurisu twisted his hips, sweeping his bokuto in a low arc to shatter the hardened earth before it could connect.

The strike dispersed Ace's thermal blast with a shockwave of force that knocked all three boys onto their backs, splattering them with wet clay. The yard fell still as the students gasped for breath in the mud. Standing amidst the ruined backyard, Kurisu lowered his bokuto and watched the boys recover, his Zanshin piercing the mud and skin to trace the Ki flowing through their Keiraku. When Kenji stood up, he wiped the mud from his arms, revealing pristine skin beneath the sludge.

Ace and Kellevra began to rise with slower movements. Trickles of blood ran down Ace's forearm where a buried rock had grazed him, while Kellevra nursed a scrape on his cheekbone from a jagged twig. Kurisu frowned, staring at the red drops mixing with the mud.

"Why..." he murmured, looking between Kenji and the other two. Following Kurisu's gaze to the small cuts on his teammates, Kenji asked, "What's up?"

"You walked away without a scratch," Kurisu replied, tucking his bokuto to his side as he crossed his arms, pinching his chin.

"Yet they bleed." Kurisu watched the teenager look down at his own unblemished skin before looking back to the minor abrasions on Ace and Kellevra.

"You trained the same way," Kurisu noted.

"You perform the same drills. Yet the result differs. You harden, but they remain human."