A Japanese school uniform from another time

William's experience fighting living bolts told him they were troublesome spirits who prefer to entrap prey and squeeze the life out of them. The effect of this living bolt's technique was entirely different. Fuku didn't seem to be injured at all. It was easy to tell she was unbruised, due to the way her clothing had transformed. When the living bolt had wrapped Fuku with its roll of cloth, she'd been dressed in her usual onmyo magician attire. In its place was something entirely different and, amazingly, a little more revealing than her original.

Fuku stood up to her feet, reaching for where her twin swords had been sheathed at her hips. To her surprise, she felt nothing-- she'd been completely disarmed. Having come up empty, she took a moment to inspect the changes to the rest of her clothing. Her upper body was now covered in a white sailor-suit top, an era out of place, with a blue collar covering and a red bow tied at the neck, resting upon the considerable swell of her breast. The shirt looked like it had been designed for a smaller woman and, as such, it showed her entire, well-toned abdomen, bare all the way down to her pelvis.

The lower body hadn't fared much better. It was the summer version of a paradoxically not-yet existing, not-yet-outdated Japanese schoolgirl's uniform, meaning a very short, pleated blue skirt. On a girl the right size for it, it probably would have been breezy, fitting down to the knees. On Fuku's tall, glamorous body, it instead failed to reach down the thighs, nearly flipping up with each movement to reveal the underside of white, cotton panties. The only other accompaniment-- and the only reasonably comfortable accompaniment for her-- was a pair of white, knee-length socks and black, closed-toe loafers.

Even her hair had come down. As it fell about her shoulders, she blinked in surprise, grasping the back of the skirt and at the tops of the shoulders she couldn't see. She wanted to fully understand the attire and its meaning but... there didn't seem to be much to it. "What is this? A demon trick...?" she questioned. Even the charms she used for her onmyo magic were missing, meaning she couldn't access her enchantments or her shikigami summoning. Effectively, there wasn't much she'd be able to do but draw the enemy's attacks like this.

"Master William! My abilities have all been stripped from me! I'll finish the incantation, but I'll be relying upon you to protect me!"

William was still suffering from the distraction of seeing his teacher's slender waist and thighs revealed. He had to question: how old was she? Despite her height and her wisdom... she was younger than he was, wasn't she? But not young enough to be wearing an outfit like this. There was a lot about Fuku he still didn't know. He found himself staring...

"Master William... Please concentrate." The woman's eyes narrowed and her face reddened as she saw her ally's eyes wandering around her thighs.

The samurai's eyes widened and he hefted his blade. "Apologies! I'll make quick work of the living bolt!" He swung his odachi wide, sending a shockwave attack at the direction of the demon. When they dodged, he rolled forward and thrust, piercing the cloth and skewering the ghostly woman inside of it. He withdrew his weapon, then flourished it, releasing a wave of ki that blasted apart the lingering miasma field spilling out of the spirit. "Their technique was unusual, but their strength was nothing special."

"A mystery to be sure," Fuku agreed, before kneeling and resuming her incantation. "Please, be on the lookout for any additional spirits. I'll be counting on you to destroy them."

William nodded wordlessly, noticing the way Fuku's feet, held beneath the short skirt in the sitting stance, outlined the amazing curve of her buttocks resting against them.

"... Please focus."

"Of course, Miss Fuku," William agreed, readying his blade and looking in all directions.

"The ritual tablet states that once the incantation begins, abandoning it will immediately banish the shikigami, but the ritual cannot be attempted a second time. In other words, if we abandon the ritual, we get nothing, and there will be no second chance."

The samurai focused himself on the telltale signs of converging spirits. The whistle of the winds could bring kamitachi. The caw of a raven could herald a fearsome tengu. The shaking of the earth could signal a mighty cyclops...

Behind him, Fuku kept as focused as she could, given the bizarre scenario. She brushed her loose hair away from her forehead and pouted. The socks, wet from the steamy atmosphere... did not feel great. She was having as difficult of a time keeping on task as her companion was, even if she didn't show it.

Unfortunately, the living bolt would prove to be little more than an omen for the difficulty to come.