Blood rushed from Kazue’s cheeks, leaving his face pale as porcelain. He stared at the battle-ready Senhime with horror in his eyes. He’d encountered the energies which moved through and about her once before. Onmyodo: those skilled in its use were few and far between, and Kazue had not expected to do battle with a devotee of those dreaded arts as skilled as the Mahoutsukai, Senhime. The grim reality of his predicament was beginning to set in. He was a Skin Walker: a god of the old religion made flesh. Without the protection of the spells that had been carefully woven into his usual linen garb, he was aware of just how vulnerable he was to Senhime’s sorcery. “Akemi,<i>hitodama</i>formation!” Akemi nodded, appearing to have received his message loud and clear. In her right hand, she grasped a small bundle of purple cloth wrapped in string and small wooden beads. In her left, she rotated the small orbs of metal bolts and incendiary powder effortlessly between her fingertips. A scowl upon her face, she thrust the purple pouch onto ground. Plumes of violet smoke erupted in all directions, filling the room in less than a second’s time. A brief moment of silence preceded a thunderous explosion accompanied by tongues of flame. Sections of wood and debris plummeted from the ceiling to the floor, pulverized by Akemi’s explosives.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fs9.postimg.cc%2Fj7wted3nz%2Fphotomania-5829b4d45483649469b9717c0a37b44e_1.jpg&amp;hash=f56b0a81b4c9ad04f56a2232e5809a62" title="photomania-5829b4d45483649469b9717c0a37b44e_1.jpg">
<img alt="photomania-5829b4d45483649469b9717c0a37b44e_1.jpg" class="bbImage lazyload" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fs9.postimg.cc%2Fj7wted3nz%2Fphotomania-5829b4d45483649469b9717c0a37b44e_1.jpg&amp;hash=f56b0a81b4c9ad04f56a2232e5809a62" data-url="https://s9.postimg.cc/j7wted3nz/photomania-5829b4d45483649469b9717c0a37b44e_1.jpg" data-zoom-target="1" height="" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" style="" title="" width=""/>
<noscript><img alt="photomania-5829b4d45483649469b9717c0a37b44e_1.jpg" class="bbImage" data-url="https://s9.postimg.cc/j7wted3nz/photomania-5829b4d45483649469b9717c0a37b44e_1.jpg" data-zoom-target="1" height="" src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fs9.postimg.cc%2Fj7wted3nz%2Fphotomania-5829b4d45483649469b9717c0a37b44e_1.jpg&amp;hash=f56b0a81b4c9ad04f56a2232e5809a62" style="" title="" width=""/></noscript>
</div>
<br/>
<i>Hōseki Castle</i><br/>​</div>Kazue took a deep breath, attempting to calm his frazzled nerves. He recalled Tsukada Ren’s words: to lose focus in the heat of battle, to give free reign to emotions like fear or rage, was to play right into the enemy’s hands. The Ghost Seer had not left him totally helpless against the devotees of the dreaded arts. She had taught him simple incantations to ward off the powers of the Onmyoji, if only to a modest degree. As the events of the evening raced through his mind, his blood began to boil. He could not have anticipated their carefully executed ploy to take such an unfortunate turn. Even so, Kazue would not allow himself to become ensnared by the treasonous witch’s sorcery without a fight. He retrieved the tanto dagger which had rebounded off the ceiling landed near his feet. Funneling ki to his lower extremities, Kazue lept high into the air, flipping backwards through the gaping hole in the ceiling and landing upright atop the rooftop of Hōseki castle. He pressed his thumbs and index fingers together and whispered beneath his breath. Spiritual energy coursed through his veins unabated. A sharp, searing pain spread across the top of his left hand. Amid layers of burnt flesh, a symbol appeared, as though he had been branded by hot iron.  Kazue grit his teeth in agony, and his eyes welled up with tears. The incantation had been completed, though how much protection it would afford him against Senhime’s sorcery he could not say.<br/><br/>The reflection of the full moon lit up a cascade of polished tiles before him. Against a crescendo of cool wind, Kazue’s straight, shoulder length hair and beige silk robes billowed to and fro. Perched beneath the canopy of a nearby Ginko tree, a half dozen crows plucked at the succulent flanks of a decaying rat. Kazue’s eyes turned pale green once again. He reached into the crows’ very being, forcing them from their skins as though slipping into a unworn boot. He clutched his blade firmly in his hand, and swirled around his mortal vessel though the eyes of a murder of crows. “Face me now, Onmyoji…” Kazue’s said in an usually deep tone, which resonated on the air with an almost other-wordly timbre.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbMediaWrapper">
<div class="bbMediaWrapper-inner">
<iframe allowfullscreen="true" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cvNXNC7XJM8?wmode=opaque" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
</div></div>