Netherworld Training

Okiku’s nonchalant response silenced the atmosphere. The weight of her words settle in, and Kotaro’s mind reeled. He took a half-step back, his breath hitching. Did I hear that right?

“W-wait? What?” His voice wavered.

Okiku remained unfazed. “I erased its existence.”

Kotaro swallowed hard. “I understand that. It’s just… you can do that?”

She nodded, her tone as casual as if she were commenting on the weather. “I also have the ability to manipulate death.”

So scary, Kotaro made a mental note: Never piss off Okiku unless I want to be erased like that poor ghost.

“Every word spoken breathes life as part of the Skill Rules. As your mind conjures the image, you expel it with your words, thus bringing miracles into the world. That is how you use your reiki.”

Kotaro took her word. A blade formed in his mind—the gleaming silver edge, the regal hilt resting firmly in his grasp. He clenched his fists, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation. Come on, Sword of Justice!

He thrust his arm forward dramatically—only to grasp empty air. Kotaro cracked one eye open and groaned. “It’s not working…”

The phantom princess shook her head. “Don’t think about it too hard. The moment one recognizes the presence of reiki, it becomes second nature. Of course, once you understand how the flow of reiki works.”

“If I may,” Gouki interjected, his voice calm. “Reiki is like the unseen variables in an equation, affecting the outcome even if you can’t always see them. It follows a flow, much like thermodynamics—energy is never lost, only transferred. When you learn to control that transfer, you can reshape reality itself.”

Kotaro tilted his head. “Like thermodynamics?”

Gouki nodded.

With that, Kotaro changed his approach. He pictured the drinking bird. His body heat rose, and an unfamiliar energy surged in his veins. A tingling sensation spread across his skin, sending a jolt through his body. “Woah, that was…weird…”

His eyes widened as tiny specks of light—like drifting fireflies or scattered embers— floated in all directions. He blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes, but the phenomenon remained.

Then, he felt it. A force—vast, suffocating—pressing down on him from all sides. He gasped for air, but it felt like someone was stealing his breath away. His limbs turned stiff, as though unseen chains wrapped around his body. His instincts screamed danger.

The air itself changed. The temperature plummeted. A bitter, cutting chill seeped into his bones, sinking deeper than mere cold. It wasn’t the weather—it was her.

Okiku’s presence swallowed him whole.

It was like standing at the edge of a storm, where the air turned sharp and charged with unseen energy. The kind of force that made the hairs on his arms stand on end, that made the body instinctively freeze in fear. This wasn’t just cold—it was pressure. A force of nature given form. The presence of something far beyond him.

“Not bad,” commented Okiku. “You just learned how to awaken your reiki. If you wish to stop what you’re feeling, you need to relax your senses. Take deep, slow breaths. Calm your mind, and you will be fine.”

Kotaro followed her advice. He focused his senses. Deep breaths. Slow. In and out. The flickering particles slowly faded from view.

A small smile touched Okiku’s lips. She nodded to Gouki. “Why don’t we continue your training?”

Kotaro barely had time to react before Gouki moved. However, the gardener had other plans. He set his wakizashi beneath a tree. Above him, the sakura branches trembled, releasing a cascade of soft pink petals. The blossoms swirled in the air, seemingly praising him with Heaven’s grace.

“Best awaken your reiki,” Okiku commented.

Kotaro frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Shinkaiho,” Gouki muttered.

The pile of petals at his feet stirred, lifted by an unseen force. They twisted in a delicate dance, forming a slow, spiraling current around him.

“Senso En!”

Gouki crouched, shifting into a stance—one foot forward, the other firmly rooted.

Kotaro narrowed his eyes, scanning his opponent. The stance was defensive. Cautious. Yet there was something else—something absolute. He stepped forward. Gouki didn’t flinch. Another step. Still no reaction.

The pebbles beneath Kotaro’s feet caught his attention. He grabbed one and hurled it at Gouki.

Gouki cocked his katana, and in an instant, Kotaro merely saw the flashing sword. The pebble split cleanly in two, the halves landing softly in the petals swirling at his feet. His sword returned to its position as if nothing had happened.

Just as I thought. Kotaro clenched his jaw, weighing his options.

“You’re never going to touch him.”

Kotaro turned to Okiku. “What do you mean?”

“Gouki’s shinkaiho, Senso En, is the ultimate defense when it comes to close-range combat.”

“The shinka-what?”

“It’s an advanced technique. One that comes from within. You will achieve a shinkaiho of your own someday.”

The shinkaiho was not just a mere skill—rather, an awakening. It was power drawn from the very core of one’s being.

Four Gouki, his shinkaiho—Senso En—was defense in its purest, most terrifying form. Within a three-meter radius, nothing could touch him. His body didn’t hesitate. His blade didn’t miss. It moved before thought, reacting with inhuman precision, as if he and the steel were one. An impenetrable fortress—alive, untouchable, absolute. Truly it was the perfect defense with its synchronicity.

Kotaro tightened his grip. If I rush in, I’ll be cut down. Another rock? Pointless. His mind raced, searching for a solution. But every scenario ended the same.

Okiku was right. It really was the ultimate defense.

He exhaled sharply. “Okay, I give up!”

“Gouki.”

At Okiku’s voice, the gardener shifted. The petals fell silent. He straightened, his aura fading like a candle snuffed out. He approached Kotaro and bowed. “That was a good fight.”

Easy for you to say. Kotaro forced a grin. “Yeah, it was.”

Gouki studied him for a moment, then pinched his chin in quiet contemplation. “Although…”

“Hm?”

“I think if you learn how to manifest your reiki, maybe you’d have a chance of defeating me. My shinkaiho is vulnerable if it forces me to—”

And he kept going. And going. And going.

Kotaro lost track halfway through.

“Now, now, Gouki, you need not frighten our guest,” Okiku chimed in, her voice laced with amusement. “After all, it is clear he requires more training.”

The phantom princess snatched Kotaro’s hand and led him deeper into the building. Gouki’s continued rambling echoed behind him, despite his audience having long since moved on.

“He sure talks a lot,” Kotaro muttered. His feet creaked against the tatami mats, a stark contrast to Okiku’s silent footsteps.

“He’s a lonely one,” she replied. “Like you, poor Gouki has no memories of his past life. His death? Unknown.”

Kotaro hesitated before asking, “What about you? How’d you die?”

Okiku stopped mid-step. Her pink, wavy hair shimmered in the dim candlelight. Her jade eyes gleamed as she turned, her gentle smile unreadable.

“I jumped into a well.”

An awkward silence befell the hallway. The flames flickered. Wax dripped.

Kotaro harrumphed. “That was um… uneventful…”

She chuckled, “I’m just kidding. I slit my throat first. Then I jumped into a well.”

“T-That makes it even worse. And why are you so casual about this?”

“What? I’m already dead, so it doesn’t matter.” She gestured ahead, unfazed. “Now, let us continue.”

They neared the end of the hallway, where a sliding door awaited them. Beyond it lay another garden, similar to the front entrance. However, one striking difference stood out—monolithic blocks of black granite, each towering seven stories high.

Kotaro stared at the rocks. “Uh…what is this?”

Okiku smiled. “Your training begins here.”

He blinked. “What am I supposed to do?”

“What else?” Her smile widened. “Move those granite rocks.”

Her casual tone discouraged him. “You say it like I can just do it.”

“Sure you can. Just use your reiki.”

He frowned, still skeptical.

Without another word, Okiku approached one of the massive boulders, crouched, and tucked her fingers beneath its base. Then, with almost effortless grace, she lifted it high above her head.

Kotaro’s eyes widened. She was like an Olympic athlete.

“Like this, see?” she said, balancing the enormous slab with one hand. “The same way you heightened your senses to see reiki—you can apply it to your body. This is called Reiki Magnification.”

Before he could respond, the massive rock slipped from her grip. It came crashing down, burying her beneath it.

Kotaro flinched, feeling the tremor shaking through his thighs. No way—!

Then, as if defying all logic, Okiku’s head poked out from the side of the granite, completely unscathed. She phased through the rock like it was nothing. She smiled. “Now you try it.”

He blinked. “I-I don’t think I can phase through solid rock.”

“That’s fine. Just focus on the lifting part for now.”

Still unconvinced, Kotaro approached the closest boulder. He planted his feet in the soft sand and inhaled deeply. The drinking bird conjured into his thoughts.

“Channel that energy into your arms,” Okiku instructed.

He focused, willing the energy to surge through him. His biceps tensed, veins pushing to the surface. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he struggled against the sheer weight. His arms trembled violently.

The rock didn’t budge. Not even a fraction of an inch. A bead of sweat rolled down Kotaro’s temples. Is this even possible?

Okiku yawned, unconcerned of his struggle. Then, her gaze sharpened. Something about Kotaro’s strength caught her attention. The rock shifted—not much at first, just a faint tremor in the sand as his fingers dug deeper. A ragged breath tore from his throat. His arms flexed, veins straining against his skin.

Slowly, the black granite rose.

A guttural groan escaped him, raw and violent. His muscles quivered. The weight of the stone threatened to crush him, yet inch by inch, he lifted it past his knees, then waist, then shoulders.

“He’s not using his reiki,” Okiku muttered. Her eyes narrowed. Not a trace of it flowed through him. No reiki, no amplification. Just raw, unrelenting strength.

“You have potential, young Kotaro…” she murmured, her expression unreadable. “You have potential…”

“What…di…d-you…s-say?” His words barely formed, his body trembling like a leaf in a storm. His legs buckled. His grip faltered.

In an instant, Okiku moved. Reiki surged into her hands as she reached for the stone, the weight transferring effortlessly to her grasp. The moment the burden left him, Kotaro staggered backward, his vision already blurring.

“I said…take a rest. Your training is over.”

He didn’t have the strength to argue. The world tilted. Sounds distorted. Darkness swallowed his vision whole.

Okiku sighed, shifting the boulder aside with ease. She peered down at his unconscious form, tilting her head. “Oh dear…What am I to do with you now?”

She knelt beside him, fingers ghosting over his chest. His innate strength is fascinating. So how?

“Perhaps the Scarlium is giving him strength?” She pressed her palm against him, sensing deeper. No, just his own energy. No one else’s. Curious…

That confirmed two things. First, the Scarlium hadn’t awakened. And second—more importantly—he was stronger than he should be. Stronger than any human had a right to be.

“He isn’t an oni. Nor an orc. Or an ogre. A human, through and through.” She stood, crossing her arms as she paced around his unconscious body, her mind spinning with possibilities.

A slow smirk tugged at her lips. What an interesting little mystery.

At first, he had been nothing more than a distraction, a toy to ease her boredom. But now? Now, she was intrigued.

“You have an explanation to give, Gap Yokai.”

“Why am I always the one accused?”

Okiku turned. A ripple in space parted like a curtain, and from it, Yuuki emerged, standing atop the very boulder she moved. His posture was casual, yet his presence carried undeniable weight.

“Did you use the Boundary to alter his innate abilities?” Okiku ignored his remark.

“And if I had?”

“You’d be testing your life against the All-Creator.” Okiku’s voice sharpened. “You know what happens if you treat the Boundary as your own.”

Yuuki let out a small, almost amused breath. “I didn’t.”

Okiku blinked. “Come again?”

“I merely reset the days,” Yuuki confirmed. “Nothing more. His growth is his own.”

For the first time, Okiku hesitated. Her gaze flickered to Kotaro, who remained unconscious. She only hoped he wasn’t listening. “His shinkaiho!”

Yuuki nodded, satisfied. “You’re finally catching on. I can’t confirm it yet, but it’s a possibility. I watched him fight a yokai when he first arrived in Densetsu. He obliterated the Six-Sided Dimension with a single punch.”

A rare gleam of interest lit Okiku’s expression. “Fascinating! That means he might have the power to destroy the Project Device. We won’t need Noel!”

Yuuki shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

Her gaze darkened. “And how do you propose we stop her?”

Yuuki exhaled, his smirk fading. “The culprit has left me with two choices—either Noel faces the Project Device herself, or the Scarlium awakens and does it instead. Our safest bet is bringing Noel.”

“But why didn’t you bring her the first time you reset—”

“Because that’s exactly what the culprit wants.” Yuuki’s voice cut through hers, cold and decisive. “And once this incident ends, another will take its place. The sylvan supreme will order Kotaro’s execution. If Rikku intervenes, Infernian spies will sneak through Sylvan territory. And all the while, the culprit will remain in the shadows, pulling the strings.”

The phantom princess crossed her arms, wary. “Navarasa and Yanluo will disagree.”

A huff of amusement escaped Yuuki’s nostrils. “And? Like they have better plans?” He scoffed. “What good are their opinions when they care nothing for human affairs? They’d rather sit in their thrones and watch from afar.”

“Oh dear. And here I thought you were merely arrogant.” Okiku sighed, shaking her head. “This explains why you only speak to me and not the others. You’re too self-centered. Why do you think you alone can handle this?”

Yuuki fell silent. Standing atop the black granite, he slowly raised his right hand. His voice, soft yet absolute, reverberated across the night.

“Because…”

The sky trembled. Ripples spread across Heaven as celestial bodies emerged from nothingness, aligning in perfect orbit. A white dwarf ignited, its brilliance piercing the void—half the size of the sun, yet searing in its intensity. Cold, pale light stretched infinitely across the garden, swallowing shadows whole.

“Throughout Heaven and Earth, I alone am the Honored One,” he declared.

Then, with his left hand, he pointed downward. The barren gravel stirred. From the lifeless ground, a sycamore tree surged upward, fully grown—its roots deep, its branches wide, defying time itself.

Behind him, space twisted. The fabric of reality bent to his will, giving birth to a void-like rift. Darkness churned within its depths.

“Throughout Heaven and Earth, I alone am the Mighty One.”

Okiku’s glare darkened. Her grip on the paper fan tightened, the fabric creaking under pressure. Her brow furrowed.

She clicked her tongue. But before she could utter her final word, Yuuki vanished into his portal. The phantom princess exhaled sharply, crossing her arms with a huff.

Her fingers drummed against the fabric of her paper fan, irritation simmering beneath her composed exterior. The air where he stood still crackled, faint traces of his power lingering like an unshaken presence. Annoying.

A flicker of reiki sparked at her fingertips. Frustration twisted into resolve. Without hesitation, she unleashed her fury upon his creation. The sycamore tree so unnaturally born, withered under her power, its leaves curling into ash. Above, the celestial bodies Yuuki manifested flickered, then shattered. The light of her power swallowed the remnants of his presence.

Okiku sighed and sat beside Kotaro, drawing her knees to her chest. “What am I to do with you?” she murmured. “Perhaps this incident will resolve itself…”

Groaning, she pressed her palm against his chest. “You’d better use my reiki wisely.”

Silence. As expected.

A thousand butterflies swarmed, cascading over Kotaro, cloaking him in iridescent wings. They spiraled, thick and endless, until he was no longer visible.

Okiku flicked open her fan. “Disperse!”

With a snap, she closed it. The swarm vanished. Kotaro—gone.

Her gaze lingered on the empty space where he had been. A whisper of a smirk ghosted her lips.

“How will your story go, I wonder?”