Iron bone

Chapter 2: A Clumsy Execution

The training yard fell into an unnatural, terrified silence. The only sound was the rhythmic hiss-click-hiss of Kaito’s shoulder vents, which sounded remarkably like a teakettle struggling to boil a gallon of motor oil.

[ "Evening," ] Kaito rumbled again, his voicebox vibrating with a metallic hum that made the teeth of the nearest guard ache. [ "I believe I’m here for an appointment with Lord Hidetada. And I don’t think I’m going to be paying the entry f*e." ]

The Captain of the Guard, a man whose mustache was groomed with more care than his sword technique, blinked. He poked Kaito’s chest-plate with the tip of his katana. The blade didn't even scratch the iron; instead, it produced a high-pitched PING that resonated across the courtyard like a tuning fork.

[ "What in the name of the Seven Heavens are you?" ] the Captain stammered, stepping back. [ "You’re leaking… is that grease? Are you a malfunctioning golem?" ]

[ "I’m an old friend," ] Kaito replied. He tried to take a menacing step forward, but his right knee joint let out a screeching, high-pitched WHEEEEE-CRUNCH that sounded suspiciously like a dying seagull caught in a paper shredder. [ "Or, depending on how this goes, I’m the thing that’s about to turn your front courtyard into a scrap metal yard." ]

[ "He’s a monstrosity!" ] a younger guard shrieked, pointing his spear. [ "Look at him! He’s literally squeaking! How am I supposed to fight something that sounds like a rusty swingset in a windstorm?" ]

[ "Stop whining and kill him!" ] the Captain bellowed. [ "He’s clearly top-heavy! He’s just a suit of armor with a bad attitude! Surround him!" ]

Kaito sighed, a sound that emerged as a long, whistling hiss of pressurized air. [ "I told you, I’m not here for the help. Step aside, or you’ll find out exactly how much a two-hundred-pound iron fist hurts when it’s traveling at terminal velocity." ]

[ "Get him!" ]

Four guards lunged at once. Kaito pivoted to face them, but his torque-sensors miscalculated the weight distribution. He spun in a circle, arms flailing like a windmill during a tornado. His heavy iron forearm connected with the lead guard’s chest, sending the man flying backward with a wet thud that suggested he would not be practicing calligraphy for some time.

[ "Whoops," ] Kaito muttered, his neck gear grinding as he tried to stabilize his head. [ "Sorry. Calibration is a bit off today." ]

[ "He’s hitting people by accident!" ] a guard yelled, shielding his face with his buckler. [ "This isn't a duel! This is a workplace safety violation!" ]

[ "It’s a massacre!" ] another shouted, ducking as Kaito’s elbow—swinging wildly—sheared the top off a decorative stone lantern. [ "Everything he touches turns to rubble! Stop the squeaking, you clanking demon!" ]

Kaito stumbled forward, his metal boots cratering the packed dirt. He felt like a boulder trying to play tag. Every time he tried to strike, his gears protested with that signature, shrill SCREEEEEE of unlubricated iron. It was impossible to be stealthy; he was essentially a walking, talking, screeching alarm system.

[ "I’m not a demon," ] Kaito grunted, grabbing a spear out of the air as it was thrust toward his gut. He didn't even feel the impact; he just snapped the ash-wood shaft in half like a dry twig. [ "I’m just a man with a very, very long list of grievances." ]

[ "You’re a walking hazard!" ] the Captain yelled, lunging forward with a desperate thrust aimed at the gap in Kaito’s neck plating.

Kaito didn't dodge. He didn't have the finesse for it. Instead, he simply leaned into the blow. The katana struck his collarbone with a shower of sparks and a deafening CLANG. The blade shattered into three distinct pieces, the tip flying off and embedding itself into the wooden wall of the main hall.

[ "My blade!" ] the Captain gasped, staring at the useless hilt in his hand. [ "It’s made of the finest steel in the province! You… you’re made of enchanted pig iron!" ]

[ "I’m made of spite," ] Kaito growled. He reached out and grabbed the Captain by his silk lapels, lifting him off the ground with laughable ease. [ "Where is Hidetada? I’m tired of playing with his toys." ]

[ "He’s… he’s in the tea room," ] the Captain squeaked, his voice pitching up an octave as he dangled in the air. [ "Please, just don't squeal anymore! The sound is making my nose bleed!" ]

Kaito tossed the Captain aside like a discarded sack of flour and turned toward the main sliding doors. He walked with all the grace of a collapsing building, his heavy feet tearing through the floorboards of the veranda.

CLANG. SCREEE-CRUNCH. THUMP. WHISTLE.

He reached the paper-and-wood sliding door of the tea room. He didn't bother with the handle. He simply kicked, and the door disintegrated into a cloud of splinters and parchment.

Lord Hidetada sat at a low table, a cup of green tea halfway to his lips. He froze, his eyes widening as the giant, clanking iron nightmare occupied his entire doorway.

[ "Kaito?" ] Hidetada whispered, his voice trembling. [ "But… the spears. You were a pincushion in the cedar grove. You were supposed to be fertilizer." ]

[ "I decided I didn't like the smell," ] Kaito said, his voice box flickering with a glitchy buzz. [ "And frankly, I didn't like the way you ended our contract." ]

Hidetada scrambled backward, knocking over the low table. His fine silk robes pooled around him. [ "You’re a ghost! A haunted suit of armor! How are you still moving? There’s no… there’s no human left in there, is there?" ]

[ "There’s enough to hold a grudge," ] Kaito stepped inside. The floorboards groaned, then gave way completely, dropping Kaito knee-deep into the dark, damp crawlspace beneath the house.

[ "You," ] Hidetada stared down at the half-submerged metal man, [ "are the most embarrassing assassin I have ever encountered." ]

Kaito grunted, his metallic fingers digging into the floorboards to pull himself up. [ "I’m not an assassin, Hidetada. Assassins are subtle. I’m a structural failure with a vendetta." ]

[ "You sound like a malfunctioning kitchen appliance!" ] Hidetada shrieked, throwing a decorative vase at Kaito’s head. It bounced off with a dull bonk and shattered into a thousand pieces.

Kaito finally hauled himself back up, dripping with dirt and floor-dust, his joints sparking with blue electricity. He lunged across the small room, covering the distance in one heavy, clumsy stride. He pinned Hidetada against the back wall, his massive, cold iron palm pressing firmly against the Daimyo’s chest.

[ "Any last words?" ] Kaito asked. [ "Try to make them count. I’ve had a very long night." ]

Hidetada looked up, his face pale, his composure shattered. [ "I… I should have paid for the better iron, shouldn't I? The rivets on your shoulder… they’re starting to pop. You’re coming apart, Kaito. Even if you kill me, you’re nothing but a pile of salvage waiting to happen." ]

[ "Maybe," ] Kaito said. [ "But I’ll be a pile of salvage that finally got to sleep." ]

He squeezed. There was a sudden, sharp, agonizing stab inside his chest—not from the exertion, but from his own construction. As he flexed his rib-cage plating to crush the man before him, a jagged, rusted shard of the internal scrap-frame he’d been patched with snapped loose. It sank deep into his lung—or where his lung used to be—tearing through the synthetic fibers and nerves that kept his human spark connected to the iron.

A cold, piercing sensation erupted in his center. Kaito gasped, but no air came out, only a plume of thick, oily smoke.

[ "What… what was that?" ] Hidetada gasped, his breath hitching as Kaito’s grip tightened, though his strength seemed to waver.

Kaito didn't answer. He stared at the wall, his vision suddenly flickering with static. The weight of his own body, which had felt like power moments ago, now felt like a tombstone crushing him from the inside out.

[ "Kaito?" ] Hidetada whispered, looking up at the silent, iron face.

Kaito’s head tilted, his neck gears frozen in a final, locked position. He had his revenge, but as the shard settled into his vitals, he realized the terrifying truth: the machine was perfectly fine, but the man inside was running out of time.