Chapter 207: Chapter 207: The Spinning Yellow Tanuki

Chapter 207: The Spinning Yellow Tanuki

Crack—!

Pale-purple lightning danced across the shoreline, splitting the sky with a sharp snap and leaving jagged scorch marks in the sand. The air itself buzzed with the scent of ozone and smoke.

At the center of the storm stood Teppei, gripping the Hakuen Michimitsu Amenoma in both hands. His knuckles had turned white from the tension. Strapped to his back was a woven basket, half-filled with Sweet Flowers. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to run, but he stayed.

In front of him, an Electro Whopperflower flickered in and out of view, its petals pulsing with unstable elemental energy.

Teppei had fought hilichurls. He’d clashed with treasure hoarders. But this was different.

This wasn’t just a monster. It was something the land itself had coughed up.

He hadn’t come here expecting a fight like this. He hadn’t even wanted to come alone. But Watatsumi’s forces were already stretched too thin. The flower shortage was affecting rations, medicine, and morale. He had no choice but to take the risk.

Teppei took a steadying breath and raised his blade. The Electro Whopperflower hovered in the air for a moment, as if sizing him up.

Then it dove.

In a crackle of violet light, the creature vanished into the ground, leaving behind only smoldering earth and a low hum of residual energy.

“Dammit…” Teppei muttered under his breath, backing up until his back pressed against one of the massive ribs of the serpent god. The ancient bone jutted out of the ground like a weather-worn monument. Teppei rested his shoulder against a nearby stone to steady himself.

It probably wasn’t the smartest spot to take cover.

After all, everyone knew the serpent’s remains still carried traces of the Tatarigami. The corruption lingered in the very soil around it.

But right now, he didn’t have much of a choice.

He sucked in a shallow breath and did his best to copy what he’d seen Bai Luo do. Teppei sheathed his katana, shifted into a low stance, and held perfectly still. His knees bent, feet grounded, and the angle of his posture caused the sword’s hilt to disappear beneath his shoulder.

His grip tightened.

He wasn’t just hiding—he was baiting.

Zzzzzz…

Sparks popped around him, skipping across the sand. The Electro aura grew stronger by the second.

Then—

Flash!

The creature burst out of the earth in an arc of lightning, petals wide, jaws even wider.

Teppei launched forward. His back leg braced against the serpent’s bone, and with a surge of muscle and will, he exploded into motion.

A blinding slash of steel met the Whopperflower head-on.

The creature never stood a chance. The blade cut clean through its core. Its body twitched once, then collapsed to the ground in two uneven halves.

“Huff… huff…”

Teppei staggered backward, chest heaving. His shoulders trembled. His breath came in short bursts.

That had been everything he had.

He hadn’t thought. He’d just moved.

If Bai Luo had seen it, he would’ve been speechless. That slash—the timing, the form, the speed—wasn’t just a lucky shot. It had all the signs of true mastery.

Because that draw had the makings of true Godspeed Sword Draw.

If Teppei could maintain that level of speed and strike nine times in succession, then he would officially master the legendary Kuzuryūsen (Nine-Head Dragon Flash)—and become a rightful successor to Hiten Mitsurugi Style.

He sheathed the Amenoma and drew a small blade from his belt, crouching beside the fallen plant-beast. Carefully, he sliced into the creature’s body, extracting the shimmering elemental nectar from its core.

The thick liquid gleamed with an unnatural purple hue, crackling faintly with residual Electro. Teppei scooped it into a small container.

Nectar from elemental lifeforms was valuable—sweeter than honey, used in potions, and popular with both alchemists and cooks. Under normal circumstances, he could’ve traded it at the Adventurers’ Guild for Mora, supplies, or even favors.

But with the ongoing conflict between Watatsumi and Narukami Island, the Guild’s neutrality wasn’t exactly reliable. Still, even if he couldn’t sell it, the nectar would be a treat for the troops back at base.

He smiled faintly at the thought of giving some to the cooks. A sweet snack could do wonders for morale.

What Teppei didn’t realize was that by leaning against the serpent bones, he’d unknowingly drawn the attention of something else.

Someone else.

From above, a corrupted Nobushi loomed atop the serpent’s ribs. His skin was pale, his armor rusted and chipped. Eyes bloodshot and wild. The Tatarigami had soaked into his soul.

“Looks like business just came knockin’…” the Nobushi muttered, eyes locked on Teppei’s back.

Slowly, he drew his sword—crimson-stained, chipped along the edge—and leapt from the bones like a predator descending on its prey.

“Take this!”

The whistle of steel cutting through air reached Teppei’s ears just a heartbeat before impact.

He turned—too late.

With no time to draw his sword, he instinctively raised the small knife still in his hand.

The katana smashed into the smaller blade with a loud clang—and then kept going.

The impact forced the dissecting knife downward and the katana bit into Teppei’s shoulder, cutting deep into flesh.

“Tsshh—!”

He gasped, pain flooding his senses.

Acting on pure instinct, he reached down with his free hand, scooped up a handful of sand, and flung it straight into the Nobushi’s face.

“Argh—!”

The grains slammed into the man’s eyes. He staggered, howling in rage.

His eyes now looked like someone had jammed two whole Jueyun Chilis into them.

But Teppei—despite the sweat dripping down his face and the searing pain pulsing in his shoulder—didn’t panic.

He moved on instinct, reaching into his pack and pulling out a small glass vial.

It didn’t look like much. Just a tiny bottle filled with a cloudy, orange-red liquid.

But looks could be deceiving.

Back when Bai Luo had left, he’d given Teppei a handful of ripe Sunsettias. A parting gift.

Most people would’ve eaten them. Maybe shared them.

Teppei had juiced them.

Then, he mixed the juice with crushed lemon, mashed chili peppers, diced onions, and every other strong-smelling ingredient he could scavenge from the camp’s rations.

The end result? A handful of tightly sealed glass vials filled with something between chemical warfare and spicy soup.

Once, a curious Resistance soldier had opened a bottle on a dare. Just one whiff was enough to send him stumbling into a tent, howling. His eyes had swollen shut for three days. Nobody tried that again.

And now?

With his eyes squeezed shut and his head tilted away, Teppei uncorked one of the bottles and hurled its contents straight at the Nobushi charging toward him.

SPLASH

“AAAAAAAUUUUUGHHHH!!”

The man dropped his sword like it was on fire and screamed, clawing at his face as the burning liquid soaked into his eyes and nose. He thrashed on the ground, shrieking, stumbling blindly in circles before bolting toward the sea.

Bad move.

Even if the seawater here wasn’t completely soaked in Tatarigami, it was still poisoned. Not something you dunk your face into.

Teppei watched, still panting, as the Nobushi collapsed into the waves, headfirst.

He didn’t get up.

A moment later, the tide began to pull him out, his body floating silently like driftwood.

Teppei coughed, sealed the vial again with shaking hands, and shoved the bottle back into his pouch. Even after sealing it, the air around him was thick with that awful smell.

It stung his nose, burned his throat.

He was used to it by now—mostly. But it still hurt.

He glanced at his right shoulder. Blood soaked through the cloth. He tried to lift his arm.

“Tch—!”

Sharp pain shot through him like a jolt of lightning.

Not just a flesh wound. It might’ve hit bone.

He grit his teeth, crouched down, and pulled out a tin of ointment from his bag. He smeared the bitter-smelling paste over the wound. It stung like hell, but after a few moments, the burning dulled to a deep ache.

His breathing steadied.

“Guess I’m calling it early today,” he muttered, forcing himself to his feet.

He slung the dissected Whopperflower’s remains over his good shoulder and started walking.

Drawing his sword would be tough now, with his right arm like this.

But that wasn’t the main issue.

The real problem was that with an injury like this, he couldn’t help the wounded. Not properly. And if another battle broke out between the Shogunate and the Resistance…

He clenched his jaw.

He wouldn’t let more people die. Not again.

He took a step forward—and froze.

Something was wrong.

The air felt heavier.

Then he realized: he wasn’t alone.

Somehow, without a sound, he’d been surrounded. Nobushi in ragged armor stood in a loose circle around him, blades drawn, eyes hollow. Each one looked like they’d already crossed that line—the Tatarigami’s corruption sinking deep.

Of course.

Nobushi never traveled alone. The one he’d fought earlier had just been the scout.

Teppei grimaced and glanced at the Hakuen Michimitsu Amenoma still in his left hand. He could swing with one arm, but not fast enough. Not precisely enough.

He looked at the vials still in his chest pocket. All of them.

He could throw them now. Break them all.

It’d burn them. Blind them.

It’d probably take him down too.

His fingers curled around the glass.

“Sorry… Himura-sensei. Sorry… Iwakura-dono.”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Then—

WHOOSH—

A blur streaked overhead from the top of the serpent’s bones.

Yellow.

Spinning.

Twirling through the air like a thrown wheel.

“Go, my spinning yellow tanuki!!”

. . . . .

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