A Handy Way of Arming Myself

Not wanting to disturb Fukada any further, Date, Konishi, Mei and I continued my introduction at a much more low-key level Mei was currently in the middle of a long-winded and, as much as I hate to think I might be on the same wavelength as somebody like Date, boring description of the history of Demons and Hunters, as well as what exactly my duties as a member of the latter group are. For sake of brevity, allow me to present a heavily condensed version;

If and when a human dies with a heavy regret weighing on them, their soul undergoes a rapid metamorphosis into that of a demon. Despite once being a normal person, demons are the only natural predators of humanity, and have just about every natural advantage you could think of. They're faster, stronger, often times smarter than us, and have supernatural abilities to boot. In order to combat this ever-present threat, at some point soon after the unification of Japan (Date jumped at the chance to shoehorn in that particular factoid) the first official Demon Hunting Unit was formed. This group contained many of the surviving heroes of the Warring States period, including, you guessed it, Date's great, great, great, great grandpa, meaning her family's been in this game for basically as long as it's existed, as have the women of the Nishida family, meaning a certain classmate of mine probably has at least a slight idea of what's going on here.

“Not a damn chance.” Mei tells me when I point that out. “My brother wouldn't notice a bug crawling on his face, never mind a closely guarded secret that my mother only told me.” Pretty harsh, if you ask me, but she knows him better than I do.

“Anyway, Sekigahara. Your induction is almost complete.” Date tells me, rising to her feet. “All that is left is for you to prove your mettle in a duel with your Club Leader!” Which aught to prove fairly difficult with my current handicap. I've never been one to boast, and 'I'll take you on with one hand tied behind my back' at least infers the existance of both hands.

As if on cue, the door to the club shed, as I've decided to call it, swings open, and the imposing figure of Fukada-san, grasping what looks like a severed hand, looks over to me with a blank stare that I think means she's in a good mood. “Mecha hand. Done. Come.”

Part of me wants to exclaim something like 'finally!' but even I know that building a fully functioning mechanical hand and including a bunch of superfluous features in a matter of hours is beyond impressive, so I silently follow Fukada back into the shed. Date tries to follow along, but Fukada catches a glimpse of her heading over and puts a stop to it. “Just him. Need to test. Potentially make adjustments. ”

“How-” Date begins.

“Ten minutes. Maybe less. Depends on him.” And with that, Fukada and I entered the shed, leaving the rest of the club behind. Fukada thrusts the hand at me. “Put it on. Test comfort. Tell me.”

That's all well and good, but I've never had to fit a prosthetic hand before, and besides, this thing doesn't look like it'd be a very convincing replacement, considering how it's a dark grey color. “Uh, sorry, Fukada-san, but how exactly do I...”

“Put your hand it. Camouflage matrix. Matches skin tone.” Fukada says, and well, I guess the most simple solution is usually the correct one, I shove my stump into the wrist hole of the prosthetic... okay, I give up, it's totally a mecha arm, not a prosthetic, like I wanted, but, just as Fukada said, the color immediately changes to match my skin tone, and it responds to just about every movement I try to make with it. Honestly, I didn't expect a member of something so fantastical as a Demon Hunting Club to be able to produce something so blatantly sci-fi.

“How is it? Comfortable? Uncomfortable?” Fukada asks. “Can make changes. If needed.”

“No, it's... it's amazing, Fukada-san.” I say earnestly. “Thank you. I was worried that with all the modifications, I wouldn't be able to pass it off as my real hand, but... I don't know what to say.”

“Words are difficult.” Fukada tells me with a nod. “Saying nothing is fine. I've done good work. That's all.”

“That you have, Fukada-san.” I tell her.

“Speaking of modifications. How to use them. I'll tell you.” Fukada says. “Inputs are simple. Similar to other functions. Based on words. Not thoughts. No danger of accidental transformation.” Despite her limited vocabulary, Fukada's talking at a mile a minute. “Currently two functions. Can add more later. First is Grapple Mode. Second is Gun Mode. Change back with Normal Mode. Shout.”

“Shout?” I ask, and Fukada nods. Well, here goes nothing, I guess. “Gun Mode!”

Before my eyes, the material that makes up my right hand begins to shift and warp, opening up to reveal the circuitry and mechanical parts beneath. Electricity crackles around me as it reshapes itself into a cannon, the panelling clicking into place and letting out a satisfying hiss when it's all done. Damn, even I'm getting sort of... no, I'm getting really hyped watching this.

“Fukada-san, I know I complained about this when you and Date-san decided on these functions, but... I'm super glad you went ahead anyway.”

“Good. Knew you would. Date wouldn't accept you otherwise.”

I mean, it seemed to me like my inclusion in the club was sort of a snap decision. Is Date really just that good at reading people that she knew, deep down, I had this sort of... I guess you'd call it boyish charm?

“Alright, good to know, Fukada-san. Grapple Mode!”

Once again, my mechanical arm tears itself apart and reforms itself, this time into the firing mechanism for a grappling wire.

“Manoeuvrability is important for us. Don't know how agile you are. This should help.”

“I'm always picked last in Gym class.” I admit.

“This will help. Not in class. Don't use outside of hunts.” Fukada warns me. “Supposed to be secret.”

Yeah, I kind of figured that one out. But anyway. I have the next part of my induction to get to, don't I? Fukada and I make our way out of the shed, and before any of the rest of the club can comment on my arm, I state my intentions immediately.

“Hey, Date-san.” I say, and staring at the club leader with a smirk on my face, I draw my swords. “I recall you said something about a duel?”

“Wahaha! That I did, Sekigahara! I see your new mecha arm has opened your eyes and reforged your soul beyond what even the Hunter's Mark could muster!” Date draws her giant sword, and I basically regret all my bravado straight away, but, I mean, it's not like she'd go all out on the newbie, right?

Right?

“Hesitating, are we? Then I shall make the first move!” Date positions her sword behind her body, as if preparing to swing, but there's no way she could hit me from all the way over there, is there? “Bombing Run!” With a force like, well, an explosion, Date lunges towards me, swinging that giant sword with all her might.

“Gun Mode!” I call out, but before my arm's even done transforming, the full brunt of that giant swing hits me, sending me careening back into the shed.

“Date. My work station.” I hear Fukada warn. “Don't smash my things.”

“Aha... sorry, Fukada.” Through the door, I see Date bashfully stroking her neck, I guess even she's a little intimidated when Fukada gets mad. But no matter, my arm's done transforming, so I say it's high time I see what this baby can do!

“Fire!” I shout, and a golden beam of energy erupts from my arm cannon, Date blocks it, but the beam still slams into her sword. There's no way that didn't hurt at least half as much as her opening salvo.

“Wahaha! I see you have already adjusted to your next-gen capabilities, Sekigahara!” Date praises me before the dust from my attack has even settled. “And you understand the fundamentals perfectly. A sneak attack is the best way to safely hunt a demon. However-” The dust clears, and I see that Date is almost completely unharmed. There's a noticeable scorch mark on her sword, but if not for that, I'd have thought my attack had missed completely. “I am no demon!” Ah... crap. “Now, come at me, Sekigahara! Prove your capabilities as a Demon Hunter!”

What capabilities!? You didn't teach me anything useful for a fight! Is that part of the test, or would helping me be too boring for you!? “Damn it!” I'm not to proud to admit when I let my emotions get the better of me, and yelling curses at somebody while fighting them without any real tactics or plan to back me up really isn't my style, but something about Date just infuriates me. Maybe it's the fact that she represents a part of the world I don't understand, one that goes against everything I consider to be common sense, or maybe it's just because our attitudes are complete opposites. Belief vs reason. Logic vs imagination. Date vs Sekigahara.

“Sekigahara.” Fukada looks at me, if I had to guess, I suppose I'd say 'pleadingly', maybe? “Please get out. My work station. In danger.” Those words alone are enough to but an end to my outburst. I guess it would be pretty bad manners to destroy something that somebody who spent hours helping me cares about, even unintentionally.

“Right, sorry, Fukada-san.” I calmly make my way out of the club shed, and Date immediately steps out of my way.

“Is this far enough away?” Date asks, all of her usual bluster gone, and even her voice is an octave or so higher. Don't tell me her usual voice is just put on!? Regardless, Fukada nods, and Date turns to me. “Wahaha! Though you may believe that Fukada's intervention has saved you, it has done nothing but delay the inevitable!” Needless to say, her voice has returned to it's usual timbre. “Now, face me, do not hold anything back, Sekigahara!”

I'm not holding back! I just suck at this! But Date clearly doesn't care, as she winds up for another attack. The air around her sword combusts as it rockets towards me, and all I can do is block with my two, thin swords.

“Shattered Mirror”

Date's giant sword cuts clean through me, and the sound of glass breaking echoes through the playing field. The girls all gasp, smiles on their faces (save for Mei) as I look down to see that my body, broken into pieces that look like shards of glass, reform to reveal that despite the fact I should probably be in two pieces right now, I'm completely unharmed.

“Wahaha! Wahahahaha! Very good, Sekigahara! Your first Hunting Art has been unlocked through the battle waged on this day, and your initiation is complete!” Date shouts proudly. “However, may I suggest a better name for this move? '1000 blades of shattering glass' would be much more intimidating!”

“What is it with you and the number 1000!?” I retort. “The move you used on me had a super simple name, too! What gives?”

“It would ill befit a leader to keep the best names all to herself!” Date explains. “Indeed, I am doing you all a service by relegating all of the coolest names to you four!” Konishi applauds this revelation of humility. Please don't encourage her.

“Alright then, is there anything-” I suddenly realise something. “Wait, crap! What time is it?”

If it took Fukada-san two hours to build the prosthetic, and it was already dark when that demon girl attacked me... just how late is it right now?

“3 A.M.” Fukada says. “Why?”

“Don't you guy's parents worry when you're out this late?” I ask. I mean, I'm hardly one to judge if they don't, but if, by some miracle, my parents are home right now, they're probably wondering where I am. The girls all look at one another, before turning back to me and, with comedic timing that almost seems rehearsed, shrug their shoulders in unison.

Okay... well, still, I should be getting home, even if the rest of them don't see the need to. Besides, I should rest up for the Culture Festival tomorrow, since Nishida and I somehow got picked as the cooks for the cafe.

Seriously, I don't need all this stress right now.