Challenging tradition

"What is it you hope to gain from this outburst, young lady?"

The air around Mistress Tomoe grows unnaturally still, as if time itself hesitates to move.

"I… don't know yet, I just couldn't stay silent anymore."

"Meaning you acted on pure impulse."

"I acted because you were treating Renya like he belongs to you."

"You wouldn't understand. Outsiders never do." Her gaze shifts to Atsunori as though Avery no longer exists.

"We're still talking, why are you—"

"Silence her."

The man beside Tomoe lashes his arm forward—fabric ripping, bone tearing through flesh as it reshapes into a colossal skeletal limb. It slams down over Avery, pinning her to the floor and sealing her voice beneath a single finger—one as long as she is tall.

"As for you," Tomoe continues, her voice perfectly steady while her eyes pierce Atsunori, "why are you not pursuing the threat that nearly slaughtered the Elders?"

"I-I have no excuse. I'm truly sorry."

"And yet…" Her voice softens just enough to suggest he shouldn't fear her. "I still want to hear the explanation you've prepared. Speak."

"Avery and I made a deal. I would take a day off, and she would return to her training right after."

Tomoe's eyelids lower, unimpressed. "Tell me, what do you think would become of this clan if we let our youth skip training whenever they pleased?"

"It would fall apart. I just… I didn't think I had the right to force an outsider like Avery to follow our rules."

"She was blessed by a Yokai."

She snaps open her fan and begins to circle Atsunori as she speaks.

"As questionable as that choice was, it cannot be undone." Her voice trails around him like a mist—coiling, heavy, settling on his shoulders. "She must be disciplined properly. Not only for her sake, but for everyone around her."

The circle closes, Tomoe shuts the fan with a clap—cutting off his breath mid-inhalation.

"From this moment forward, I shall decide how she is trained."

Her verdict settles over him like a lead chain.

No…

Avery would never accept this.

She'd fight it. She'd run if she had to.

And if she got away… he might never see her again.

But if she didn't…

Mistress Tomoe would make sure the idea of defiance never crossed her mind again.

He has to stop this. He has to speak—plead, bargain, throw himself at Tomoe's feet—anything but…

"Understood."

…anything but let those words escape his mouth.

The Mistress turns back to Avery. She struggles beneath the unyielding grip, muffled sounds escaping her lips, utterly pinned.

"You have two options: behave or be made to. I'm giving you a single chance to accept my terms. Think carefully, your next opportunity to speak may not come for a long time."

With a snap of her fingers, the monstrous skeletal arm begins to withdraw. Flesh and sinew sprout as the bones collapse in on themselves, twisting unnaturally, cracking and folding back until it vanishes—as if it had been nothing but a ghostly mirage.

Released, Avery gasps, the air rushing back into her lungs after being so tightly constricted.

Wiping sweat from her brow and trembling slightly, she stands, locking eyes with Tomoe's smothering, bottomless stare.

"In the sacred name of the First, I hereby challenge you to battle, Tomoe Munakata."

The Mistress' mouth opens, eyes widening—an expression he has never seen.

"H-h-how dare you—" the seething follower begins, but a flick of the closed fan stops him.

"Where did you learn of that ancient practice?" Tomoe asks, her calm already returning.

A smug grin spreads across Avery's face.

"I was going through some of your old family scrolls last week and found this section on resolving disputes through formal duels. Anyone except the Elders is fair game, am I right?"

"It is a sacred Munakata tradition. An outsider like you has no right to invoke it."

"Oh, so you can discipline me in the name of your family, but I can't challenge you by those same rules? Are you aware that attitude is a direct offense to the First?"

"Stop naming her." The fan cracks under Tomoe's grip, then she composedly tucks it under her robe. "Very well. What is your family name?"

"Bennett."

"In honor of the Munakata legacy," Tomoe says with ice-cold words, "I accept your challenge, Avery Bennett."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Things moved fast after I challenged Tomoe and we agreed on the terms. We wrote everything down on a ceremonial scroll, each of us acknowledging and accepting the other's conditions. Supposedly, once this document was delivered to the Elders, the challenge was sealed—and neither side could back out.

Right after, two servants materialized on the spot and shepherded me through a series of traditional purification procedures. They started me off with a shower cold enough to numb regret—which was quite refreshing, actually. I definitely needed to cool off before attempting something dumber than what I'd already done, if that was even possible.

Then they dressed me in what I can only describe as a traditional Japanese bathrobe, which, knowing them, was probably exactly that.

Next came a very special meal prepared for the occasion: plain white rice. Yup, that was it. They really leaned into the purity theme.

But the worst part? After that I was left alone in a room for 24 hours with nothing but ink and paper to pass the time. My art supplies ran out after the first hour… or at least, I think they did. Hard to keep track of time in that environment.

Still, as bored as I was, I didn't feel as restless as I normally do under similar circumstances. No urge to pace the walls or climb the furniture just to stay sane. The thoughts that usually claw at me in the quiet were gone. Instead, all I could do was replay every moment that followed the instant that hag showed up.

Picking fights' never been my thing—give me love and peace any day. But that Tomoe crone? She was something else entirely. To say I couldn't stand her would be like calling a bank robbery petty theft. Everything about her made my blood boil: the holier-than-thou glare that could freeze hell, the suffocating authority she radiated simply by existing, and the cold cruelty with which she snuffed out any trace of humanity—be it in someone else, or even the tiniest flicker in herself. And the way Atsun acted around her… that… thinking about it tears my heart inside out, like watching a puppy wag its tail at an abusive owner.

So I reached a conclusion: no, I wasn't the dumb one here. If anything, I was the only person able to see how wrong this entire system was.

And for once, I wasn't just going to preach about helping—I was determined to actually do something that mattered.

…

My timeout ended, and at last, toilet privileges—followed immediately by round two of ritualistic showers, now scalding. Because why not?

Instead of another bathrobe, my next outfit was a white kimono—or maybe a yukata. Couldn't really tell the difference. Either way, it was comfortable enough to move in—which mattered a lot, since this was supposed to be my battle attire.

The servants escorted me to one of the places I was often told were off-limits. The soft greenery and fresh air of the estate were replaced by rough stone and a dark underground hall, lit only by the two torches my guides carried.

At the end of the corridor stood a raised, circular arena made of pure white marble, illuminated by a handful of flickering torches.

Cue the imaginary announcer in my head:

Ladies and gentlemen! In the white corner, clad in a pristine kimono(or yukata), weighing in with untold years of experience, a personal army of ass-kissers, and a mood drier than the Sahara… the reigning champion of the Munakata… give it up for the one, the only… Nastiest Hag Tomoe!

And from the opposing also white corner, making her grand entrance… also in white, because variety is for losers… the challenger, the disruptor of tradition, armed with nothing but an empty stomach and a full day of boredom turned into sheer determination… give it up for… Avery 'The Outsider' Bennett!

And your audience tonight… a raucous crowd of four venerable geezers, here to witness history in the making! Can the newcomer stand a chance against the champion of broken dreams? Will tradition hold? Or will chaotic good reign supreme? Stay tuned for—

"...Avery Bennett—"

"Yes?" Snapping into focus, I realized I'd missed most of whatever the old guys had been droning on about. They all stared at me like I wasn't actually supposed to say anything.

A dry cough preceded the speaker's next words. "If Avery Bennett prevails, she shall be freed from all discipline, commandment or authority imposed by Mistress Tomoe. She will be granted the right to come and go from the estate as an honored guest, owning no duty to the clan beyond respect for its laws. Do you agree to these terms?"

He looked at Tomoe.

"Yes, I agree."

"If Mistress Tomoe Munakata prevails, Avery Bennett must either accept lifelong service under her authority, or depart Kurozaka forever, never to return. Do you agree to these terms?"

Now every eye turned to me. This was the part where I was supposed to speak like a sane person.

"Y-yes, I do."

They went on to a long recitation of mantras and haikus about sacred this and revered that—and somewhere in the poetic rambling they also squeezed in the actual rules of the fight.

Pretty Straightforward:
Step out of the ring,
Or else, black out or give up,
Do any—you lose.

For fairness, they tacked on one extra rule: no yokai transformations—since only one of us had that privilege. Magic, however, was absolutely allowed. I'd protest the part where I had barely over a month of practice, but I was in my twenties while my opponent was twice my age—and she probably thought phone calls were a kind of magic—so it felt wrong to get too picky about the details.

Eventually, they told us to stand, and then…

"May the ceremony begin."

Deep breath. Time to dial down the snark.

As much as I wanted to stop running whenever things got hard, becoming that tyrant's life-long minion was too high a price.

If I lost I'd have to walk away—leaving me with only one option: fight like hell and win.