青木ヶ原の伝説 「Closed / Hanabi」

She has been coming to the forests more frequently as of late. In fact, she has done it so often that Mai has started to give her a worried look every time she proclaims that she is going to take a stroll alone and leaves the establishment. Of course, the girl does not say anything, she is far too well-behaved to speak against the intentions of her superior when it comes to her personal preferences and feelings. So she settles for concerned looks and walking out on the porch to see where her boss is going. The girl might think she is stealthy, doing so without the madam's notice, but she had detected the girl the very first time she had done so. Nonetheless, she appreciates her employee's cautions; one never knew what could happen in the depths of the Rukongai, especially when a lonesome dainty, defenseless woman walks into the depths of a Sea of Trees. She could be ambushed by bandits for all the employee knows! Or trip and sustain a fracture.

But what Mai doesn't know is that she is not defenseless, not dainty and certainly not lonesome. She never seems to take these walks alone, as a matter of fact. She might look like a solitary traveler, this much is true. The wretched apparition still stalks her in the murk, relentless as ever. It hovers around her wherever she walks, wispy clothing dancing as it floats, the sludge of hair unyieldingly still, face still absent. It didn't seem intent on actively bothering her on these trips as it did back in the establishment. However, it simply does not vanish like it did back in the house. It persists even when she doesn't pay attention and is distracted by something else.

As far as her line of defense goes, the imposing woman certainly has more tricks up her sleeve than it initially seems. There is the blade concealed within the handle of the ornate parasol, ready to strike down incoming thugs. Granted, the woman is not skilled with handling it, but she is willing to use it nonetheless if ambushed by ruffians on the road. This is not her last line of defense, or her primary one, for that matter, however. That would be the spells she crafted from scratch. They are actually the reason why she has departed the safe-haven of women and entered the dim-lit vastness of bushes, forests and signs.

She wants to practice. More importantly, she needs to practice.

It's as if a biological reaction within was triggered an insatiable desire to compulsively utilize this innate talent for magic at any opportunity ever since she first transformed the white sword into the detailed tool it is today. The initial experiments had been of such a minor scale that she could easily hide it in her room. Levitating plates, causing water to rise, plants to grow and even playing with flames. These had been things she had enjoyed, but quickly tired of. It didn't take long for these acts to become easy. The attempts at escalation had caused suspicions to arise; the title "Witch" was something she hears in hallways and market places now.

These forests could far more easily conceal these grander attempts at conjuring of spells than any room or garden could. She found a small clearing where the moon shone with great clarity and settled there. The closed parasol had been placed against a small stone, where it still rests, and she had removed some of the trinkets in her hair before proceeding to start her session.

Tomie Magahara has practiced for what she estimates is about half an hour, and the clearing has already doubled in size. Tree stumps, fallen logs, withered leaves and the crispy smell of burnt grass are scattered around her where the stand in the middle of the clearing. Fatigue has started to creep over her, but no perspiration yet, only slight shortness of breath. The night is young, but will eventually die. She needs to make the most of it.

"Wooden Face, Kill the Insolent with a Decapitating Strike. Blade of Finality, Might of the Mirror Emperor, Take Our Hands and Soar!" Chants with words of power leave her lips as she twirls her right hand around, gathering various compounds of metal from the ground. They yield to the power of spiritual energy in her grasp, forming a thick grey hexagon. "Kindō: Rokkakuzei!" With a defiant shout, Tomie throws the construct forwards, aiming it at a lonesome tree. With a flick of her wrist, the projectile digs into its target, perforating the outer layer with ease before burrowing through the middle, snapping the trunk in half.

With massive defiance, the uncontrollable cog created still continues to travel, in spite of the caster flicking her wrist in the opposite direction in an attempt to stop it. I need more training with this one, the bitter stray thought remarks. Once it responds, she brings it back fallen tree, only to drop it from above and latch onto the wood with a sharp sigh. With a raised hand, she prepares another incantation. "Wheel of Fire, Disrupt the Kitsune’s Wedding! Nine People, Nine Fates, One Solution. Burn Them until Only Bones Remain! Kadō: Ranbi!" An undulating orange orb of fire ignites above the raised hand, a star brought down from the brilliant heavens above. The illuminating flame hurls forward, instinctively destructing moments after its birth as it hits both tree and metal.

The wood doesn't last long in the furnace, becoming smoldering ashes in mere seconds. The wheel persists for a while, glowing, before it too starts to fall to the flame and melts. It is an exquisite show of the harmonious and the volatile, the elements of nature at the peak of their rawest. This is not something she would ever see in a tea house nor a palace; this is art before humans took the concept and destroyed it, then made it their own. There is something raw about it, something passionate...

Too passionate, she finds out soon thereafter: she had been careless. The spell she had just used has generated additional flames upon exploding with the tree, which now sprinkle across the area, leaving the threat of a forest fire. That is something she cannot be held responsible for, it would be too shameful to even have rumors that it is somehow connected to her. "Suidō: Haizen Erasame." The words are but mutters, but powerful enough to draw forth what she intends for them to do: heavy clouds, too close for comfort, gathering above the dense forest, heavy thunder in company. She knows that without the words of power accompanying the spell's name, it won't be as potent nor last as long, but the flames have not really spread far yet, so that is by no means a major concern.

Once the droplets start to trickle, fizzling the flame, does she address the other person present to observe the debacle. "For how long were you intending to stand around without introducing yourself or announcing your presence?" The madam, whose clothes are steadily becoming soggier, does not bother to look at them initially, only turning as she finishes speaking. The sticky hair clings to her face, the bangs a sloppy mess now. It is by no means a flattering first encounter. "It is impolite to eavesdrop, Miss...?" Tomie patiently awaits the other person's introduction, eyes following her every move.