Chapter Text
Genichiro sat in the darkness of his room for the rest of the night, contemplating the resurrection of Kuro’s shinobi. Every time he went through the fight in his mind, he seethed with rage. Of course the shinobi had treated the fight with such disdain. It was child’s play to him. What did an immortal man have to fear of death?
He needed to visit Doujun in the dungeons. The disgraced surgeon’s progress with the rejuvenating waters had been painstakingly slow, to the point where Genichiro considered locking him in one of the cells and losing the key. He wasted years supplying that man, and he had nothing to show for it. He needed immortality, not just to stand equal to the shinobi, but to survive the coming war.
Genichiro shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts on the shinobi instead of the Ministry. Despite the insult of Wolf holding back, he’d been strangely honorable in his tactics. The shinobi could have easily killed him when his back was turned. It went against a shinobi’s training to not seize that opportunity. Even grandfather built the Ashina style around using anything to win the battle, no matter what. If grandfather could resurrect, he wouldn’t hesitate. He would use it to lull his enemies into a false sense of security, then strike.
He wondered if his grandfather knew. If Emma knew. If they seemingly accepted this traitor shinobi only because they knew about his power.
Why didn’t they warn him?
Dawn crept up the mountain slowly, bathing the room in a faint glow until the sunlight burst through the windows. Genichiro hadn’t slept, but that was normal as of late. He had too many worries for sleep.
Soon enough, there was a soft knock on the door.
“Enter,” he said, rubbing his eyes.
Emma bowed her head as soon as she entered. “Are you well, Lord Genichiro?”
“I am fine,” he grumbled.
She hesitated. “I heard you fought Wolf. Were you injured?”
“No,” Genichiro said, but she knelt next to him to check anyway. Her hands brushed along his torso, searching for blood under his robes. She took her time, and Genichiro leaned into her touch. He always found her hands to be soft, even though she had as many rough callouses from grinding medicines and training with a blade as he did.
Eventually, she was satisfied. Her hands retreated.
“Did you know the shinobi had the Dragon’s Heritage?” Genichiro asked.
“Yes,” she answered honestly.
“For how long?”
“Before he came the castle,” Emma admitted. “Lord Kuro and Wolf were training at Orangutan’s temple. Wolf stumbled, and Lord Kuro struck a fatal blow.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“It was not my secret to share,” Emma said. “Besides, Wolf has not shown interest in betraying us. He has genuine care for Lord Kuro.”
“Genuine? From a shinobi?” he scoffed, though she spoke true. The shinobi hadn’t lied to them as far as Genichiro was aware, and he deferred to Kuro during their fight.
“He wants Lord Kuro to be happy and healthy,” Emma said. “Everything he does is for his lord. Understanding him is easy when you know where to look.”
“You care for him,” Genichiro said.
“Of course I wish Lord Kuro well.”
“I’m talking about the shinobi.”
He watched her expression change, and he knew he spoke true. She had affection for him. After all, how could she not? Everyone in the castle was obsessed with the damn shinobi, even his own grandfather! He was glad Emma hadn’t witnessed their fight. He didn’t want to watch her choose the shinobi over him.
Emma eventually said, “I do not want Wolf to suffer.”
“Why would he?” Genichiro huffed.
Again, she did not answer him right away. “Kuro’s illness,” she said quietly. “I fear losing the boy would break Wolf’s heart.”
“But he won’t lose him,” Genichiro said. Even with the illness, Lord Takeru survived for years. He would have survived indefinitely.
His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Hana bowed her head, though she didn’t enter. Her eyes darted around the room to ensure they were alone, and then she said, “Father. Mother.”
“Hana,” Genichiro said. “Is everything alright?”
“Lord Kuro wishes to visit Senpou Temple,” Hana said. “I mean to join them.”
“What?” Genichiro paled. “No!”
“Why?” Emma asked.
“They seek information about the Dragon’s Heritage. I thought, perhaps, they might also find information about me.”
Genichiro sucked in air between his teeth. When Genichiro and Emma first found Hana with those monks, they’d cut down any monster they came across. Except for the last monk, the man who spoke about the children. He remained in the hall the entire time, apologizing to the children again and again as Genichiro rushed out with the rice for grandfather. When he finally, the monk stopped Genichiro.
“Give these to the child,” the monk said, handing Genichiro several books. “She wants to know why she was made.”
But he never did. Genichiro was revolted by what he read. The monks made Hana to send the Divine Dragon to another land. They intended to transform her further into a vessel for the Dragon’s Heritage, no matter what happened to her afterwards.
At first, he wanted to destroy the texts, but he couldn’t in the end. They weren’t meant for him, but that didn’t mean he had to burden Hana with the knowledge while she was still so young.
“If they find any information, they can bring it back to you,” Genichiro said. “You do not need to return there yourself!”
“They also seek the Mortal Blade,” Hana said.
“They have the Mortal Blade,” Genichiro said.
“They seek another that was hidden in Senpou Temple.” Hana addressed Emma. “Wolf said he asked you about it.”
“Lady Tomoe mentioned it in her writings,” Emma replied.
“I see.”
“I remember Master Tomoe talking about a hidden blade,” Genichiro said. “Is it true?”
Hana locked eyes with Emma. “I do recall the blade at Senpou Temple,” she said, “but I don’t know what happened to it.”
“Why do they need it?” Genichiro asked, looking between Emma and Hana.
Emma said, “I am not sure.”
“Find out,” Genichiro replied. “I don’t like any of this. We need to prepare for what they are planning.”
Hana lifted her head. “Perhaps they will let the reason slip while they are traveling,” she tried.
“You are not going!” Genichiro decided.
Hana huffed. “Fine,” she said, annoyed, and ran off without being dismissed.
Emma’s hand went to her face. At first, Genichiro thought it was to cover a gasp, but then he noticed the smile behind her fingers.
“What?” he said.
“It’s nothing,” Emma said. “She just reminds me of you sometimes.”
“Are you implying I have the poor attitude of a teenager?” Genichiro asked.
She giggled again. “Whenever Lord Isshin told you no, you always stormed out of the room without a word.”
Genichiro laughed with her, conceding that she was right. “And then I would do whatever he forbid anyway.”
They both laughed before Genichiro’s words caught up with him. “Shit!” he muttered, scrambling out of the room. Even after a moment, Hana was nowhere to be seen in the halls. Genichiro asked every samurai and retainer he passed if they’d seen her, but no one could say that they did.
Monks still roamed the narrow paths up Mount Kongo, nearly blind and muttering chants under their breath.
Hana had it in her mind that Genichiro killed them all. Not when he and Emma rescued her, but after. Genichiro seemed the kind of man to return and destroy this place. But Hana also remembered the difficult descent down jagged cliffs. There were many places for the monks to hide from her adoptive father’s wrath, even as unaware as they seemed.
When they reached the base of the mountain and saw the first monk, Wolf pressed a small green candy into her hands. He didn’t know that she recognized it. The monks made the candy for their own assassins. Wolf didn’t seem concerned about its origins, only sharing that it would suppress her sounds if they needed to sneak past any guards.
So far, she hadn’t needed it. The monks wandered kept to the paths, heads bowed to their folded hands. They ignored the rustling of grass as Wolf led the way towards the main temple.
Their first true roadblock came at a broken bridge. The courtyard before it was empty, though Wolf was cautious about stepping out. They had encountered several soldiers tucked into the dark corners of Ashina’s abandoned dungeons. Hana wondered if Genichiro put them down there to keep the monks from entering Ashina Castle to drag her back. But there was that surgeon down there, too. He was wearing the same robes as the monks. Either way, they couldn’t put down their guard.
“Was this bridge destroyed when you last traveled this way?” Wolf whispered, his eyes on the bushes leading up to it in case a monk was hiding.
“I think so. We came through a cave at one point,” Hana said. She wished she remembered better, but she’d been so enamored by the sights on Mount Kongo after many years locked away in the Inner Sanctum. It all blended together. There had been one bridge still standing that they crossed, and as she searched the mountain, she spotted the covered bridge spanning a deep valley.
“There is an opening up there,” Kuro said, pointing to a gap in the rocks.
“Yes, I remember!” Hana said. “Genichiro and Emma lowered me down. That path leads to the covered bridge.”
Wolf aimed his prosthetic arm at a natural point in the rocks, holding his other arm out to her. A grappling hook shot out of the arm and snagged the rock above, dragging them into the air. Once she was settled, Kuro followed them up with his own tools, though it was much less graceful than Wolf. As they made their way up the cliffs to the bridge, Wolf started helping Kuro up the larger jumps, too.
“I don’t know how he does it so easily,” Kuro muttered as she stifled a laugh. But the joy didn’t last as they reached the bridge. Someone had left hundreds of Jizo statues and pinwheels scattered across the ledge. Hana plucked one out of the dirt, letting the red and white paper catch the breeze.
“What is that?” Kuro asked.
“They are for the other children,” Hana said, watching the paper spin round and round. She almost pocketed it, but at the last moment, she stuck it back in the ground. Her friends belonged together.
Part of her felt that she had been left on the mountain as well.
The Inner Sanctum doors sat unlocked, but her old rooms were undisturbed. No monks had entered in five years. Even the last book Hana read still had its ribbon tucked between the same pages.
“Did the monks keep a library?” Kuro asked.
“Yes, but some books may be scattered about,” Hana said. “The old monks did not care for organizing.”
“And the Mortal Blade?”
“I don’t know where it is now,” she answered honestly, looking at the open, empty box in the corner. But she had her suspicions. She saw Emma take the blade from Senpou Temple. She always assumed it was for safe keeping.
“What does it look like?”
“I have never seen it drawn,” Hana said. “It’s said that it will kill anyone who tries.”
“Almost like it was made for those with the Dragon’s Blood,” Kuro said thoughtfully.
“Why do you seek the Mortal Blade?” Hana asked.
“We need the Dragon’s Tears from the Divine Realm.”
“For what?” she pressed.
“For the ritual of Immortal Severance,” Kuro said.
Hana’s chest tightened, and she clenched her teeth to keep from saying the wrong words. Muttering something about checking another room, she kicked the lid of the blade’s box on her way out the door. She recognized the ritual. In her search for books across herself, Hana came across much on the true Divine Heir. She remembered being so jealous at times. The Divine Heir’s place in the world seemed so clear, while her purpose remained a mystery. They had to be connected somehow. She had to be more than a mad monk’s poor attempt at divinity.
Now that Hana finally met Lord Kuro, the true Divine Heir wished to throw that power away.
She wandered back to the main hall while Kuro scoured the area for useful books. The mummified remains of infested monks sat silently along the wall. She ignored them, instead standing in front of the large, golden statue. Worshipers used to make a pilgrimage to Mount Kongo to meet her, and the monks presented her here. They pleaded for rice, and she obliged. Perhaps that was all she was good for, even now.
“There must be another reason,” she whispered, praying to her friends. “If not, then there must be a way for us to be free.”
She didn’t know what to do if the only way was Immortal Severance. Removing the Dragon’s influence from Ashina would remove the rejuvenating waters, a key ingredient in their transformations. Would her friends move on? Would she live a normal life? Or would she die, joining the other children in the Halls of Illusion forever?
The five-pronged bell had returned to the table. Whispers of the other children flitted past her ears when her fingers brushed the handle. The passage from the Inner Sanctum to the Halls of Illusion closed sometime after she left, but she could open it again. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, and she didn’t hear Wolf approaching until he spoke.
“Are you alright?” Wolf asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Why are you crying?” Wolf asked.
“I don’t think I can be much help to you,” Hana said. Not with Immortal Severance. Perhaps not with anything.
“That’s alright,” Wolf answered immediately.
“I barely know anything about myself. What use am I to Lord Kuro?” Hana said.
“It doesn’t matter. Any help is more than we have now,” Wolf said.
She wiped her eyes. “I want to speak to my friends.”
“I can take you back.”
“No,” Hana said. “My friends are here.”
For a moment, she wondered if her friends’ souls were once again housed in the folding screen monkeys. She couldn’t imagine driving her sword into them, even if it wouldn’t harm them, even if their forms attacked her.
“I would like to be alone, sir,” Hana said.
Wolf nodded. “We will stay near the main hall until you return.”
Hana waited until Wolf disappeared around the corner, then rang the bell once. Its chime echoed in the empty hall, and the statues faded from her view. The ringing disappeared into the rush of a waterfall, and underneath it, the children of the rejuvenating waters whispered.
When Hana returned from the Halls of Illusion hours later, Kuro sat surrounded by books and his own notes. Wolf sharpened Kusabimaru, listening as Kuro talked to gather his thoughts.
“Oh, Hana!” Kuro said. “You’re back!”
“Did you find anything?” she asked.
“Yes. Several pages considering the use of the Dragon’s Tears,” Kuro said. “The monks thought they were necessary to affect the Dragon’s connection to Divine Heirs. They mostly considered the question of why that could be, since it seems strange that more of the Dragon’s essence would weaken the connection. But it aligns with what we know about Immortal Severance. Truly ending the Dragon’s influence on Ashina is not as simple as the Divine Heir dying.”
“I see,” she said numbly, still thinking about what the children told her.
“But they don’t always write about Immortal Severance,” Kuro said. “They believed any ritual involving the Divine Heir required Dragon’s Tears. That’s why the red Mortal Blade existed. It is the only weapon that can pierce the Dragon’s eyes. Our black Mortal Blade was made for another purpose, though the writings don’t say much about it.”
“We were not made to be Divine Heirs,” the children had whispered. “There was another purpose.”
“Perhaps Lord Genichiro knows,” Wolf said. “He trained with Lady Tomoe.”
“I will not involve Lord Genichiro in this matter,” Kuro said.
“Lord Isshin, then,” Wolf suggested. “He spoke about Tomoe as well. He knew of her Mortal Blade.”
“You should ask him. He seems to like you,” Kuro said.
The corner of Wolf’s mouth twitched into a smile. Hana let them plan, happy the attention was off her.
They searched for a few more books, then gathered their items as the sun started to set. Wolf was perfectly content in the dark, but Hana appreciated being able to navigate the cliffs with some light. It allowed her mind to wander back to what the children told her.
After Hana left with Genichiro and Emma, one of the monks used to return to the alter and talk to the other children. Under the apologies and the lamenting of his failures, the monk sometimes asked if the Divine Child ever read those books he entrusted to the lord. The monk prayed again and again for their Divine Child to come home. He prayed for her to save them.