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Chapter 7: Failings and Fortunes

6th Day of Tearful Sky, 1554

A light snore. A scatter of clacks. The patter of droplets on straw.

Sota slowly opened his eyes and groaned. His body ached and his mind was a haze, but he forced himself to sit up.

He was back in his hut and, judging by the faint light from beyond the straw curtained window, it was the early hours of the morning. Chihiro was perched nearby, balanced atop a bucket which was then on a table, with her head bowed as she slept, with her beak pressed into her chest.

Sota mused at how rare it was to see Chihiro sleep, then he remembered what had happened.

Jubei and his poisoned blade. The bandits threatening Kyoba village!

He climbed out of bed, then seized up, hissed with pain and clutched his abdomen. Clean bandages were wrapped around his body, but nearby was a basin with bloodstained rags, as well as others coated in a darker stain.

Chihiro snorted and opened her beady twilight blue eyes as she raised her head. She clacked her beak and hopped from her platform.

“So-Sota! You're okay!"

Chihiro went to hug him but hesitated as she eyed his wounded stomach. Instead she began to wriggle her long, clawed and scaly fingers.

Sota couldn't help but smile and patted Chihiro on the head, to which she crooned and closed her eyes to the affection.

“Thanks to you, of course." He turned serious again. “What happened? Is everyone alright?"

“Yes. No... uh... please don't be mad, but... Hana went and took care of the bandits, and that mean-meanie Jubei."

Sota frowned, but wasn't upset. “I had hoped to spare her from that, but I guess it had to be done. I should thank her."

He stood gradually, half expecting Chihiro to protest at moving so soon after an injury. The wound ached but it wasn't deep, and thankfully now the poison had been purged from his body, it was an inconvenience at worst.

When Sota looked at Chihiro again, she was fidgeting and clutching her fingers. His aches faded as a deep pit of worry filled his belly instead.

“... Hana's alright, isn't she?"

“She never came back. I didn't know what to do." She paced back and forth and began to chirp and chatter. “Hana told me to help you, so I did, so I ran home, then I gave you the cure, and then wanted to make sure you were going to be safe, so I watchy-watched over you since the other villagers wouldn't, but then-then you got worse, and I changed your dressings again, and-"

Sota gently tapped the top of Chihiro's beak to quieten her, moved his fingers underneath her chin, then raised her gaze to his.

“Slowly now... where did you last see her?"

Chihiro gulped, and looked outside.

“The bandit camp."

* * *

She was wounded. She was wet, cold, hungry, tired, exhausted.

Nothing compared to the emptiness Hana felt inside.

She was slumped on her knees. Her nodachi was caked with dried blood, scant inches from her hand. One eye was sealed shut from her own blood having seeped over her eye and matted her fur.

Last night, she was a brazier, sparked anew. The sapling of her rejuvenated soul, carefully grown with the nourishing waters of normal life, had been cast into the flames of her rage. Yet this was a secondary fuel to the blaze sparked by the black oil of her old addiction and reliance on ceaseless carnage. Her spirit didn't fuel the fire, just the old, familiar revenge.

Now she was nothing but ashes once more, ill-suited for anything but being discarded. The only thing that stayed her hand from taking her nodachi into her belly was she just lacked the will to even move. She couldn't even shiver.

She was spent. Nothing else mattered. Her addiction had won.

Hana was a relic. She had only lived for a dozen years at most, and the rest was just the protracted swansong. She couldn't live like this any longer.

The dead bandits had taken their toll on her physically, but everything else had crushed her deeper. Maybe her wounds would heal, but she would rather they festered. Something, anything to put her out of her misery.

Movement from the treeline. Hana raised her only open eye, but her vision was blurry.

Maybe it was one of the returning bandits. She almost hoped it would be. No doubt they would be eager to finish her off. She wasn't afraid.

“Hoi! Hana! Where are you?"

“Hey-hey! Where-where?"

Sota and Chihiro. He was dressed in layered blankets to fend off the cold while Chihiro was still dressed light, warmed by her own thick plumage.

Hana grimaced and went to stand, to evade and hide herself in shame, only for her leg to give way. She pressed her hands against the ground and tried to drag herself away, but she lacked the strength.

Chihiro bounded closer to the camp and spotted Hana first, pointing at her and squawking as she closed in. Sota jogged after her, and gasped as he saw Hana amongst the viscera and destruction. Hana expected a rebuke. Or pity. Or something. Chihiro seemed to expect the same, as she glanced between Sota and Hana and nervously clicked her claws together. Instead, Sota removed a few layers of blankets and went to put them over Hana.

“Stop," she rasped.

Sota hesitated a moment, then wrapped them around Hana anyway. He then noticed the arrow protruding from her leg.

“You're hurt. You can't expect me to do nothing."

Hana scowled. “It's nothing," she managed before coughing and shivering.

“You've never been good at lying, Hana," Sota said as he soaked a cloth with a gourd of water, then gently wiped the blood from her eye and forehead. “Much less when you're covered in blood and drenched from ear-tip to toe. We need to get you somewhere warm and safe."

Hana went to protest, but Sota pushed one of his arms under hers and around her back. He tried to help her up, only for her to yelp as her leg faltered beneath her.

Chihiro chirped. “There're some medical supplies in that tenty-tent! I found them when I was searching for the antidote last night." Sota nodded, and she hopped inside the tent.

“Hana, please listen to me," Sota said as he turned his attention to her. “I will never apologise for saving you that day. Likewise, I won't let you suffer like this. You can ignore me, you can hate me, you can swear to curse my life for the rest of my days, but I owe you a better life. And I will spend my every living breath giving that to you."

Hana scowled at him, but she didn't have the focus to maintain it for long.

“I don't understand. All I've done is sow death and mistreat you as I've dragged you into danger and over and over on an utterly worthless crusade."

Chihiro arrived with a tray of surgical tools, small clay jars and bandages, and Sota huffed. “Dirty bastards must have robbed a medicine peddler or maybe even a court surgeon for this. This is some good stuff... probably even plated in silver."

He began reading the labels on the jars as he continued, “listen, Hana... in case you hadn't noticed in this past year we've known each other, I'm not giving up on you and you're a better person than you've ever given yourself credit. I know several of Kyoba's residents like you. What happened in your past isn't everything you are, and I guarantee they'll be happy to see you back, safe and sound."

Hana flicked her eyes at him, but Sota just flashed a toothy smile in response.

“And let's be honest here, even without the villagers, I don't think we can really exist without each other."

Chihiro cawed and hopped in place. “Yes, yes! You're my family."

“Foolish," Hana said and sighed, a subtle upturn on the sides of her mouth. “Both of you... but thank you."

“We're all absolutely imbecilic, and that makes us perfect together!" Sota glanced around the camp, at the bodies and blood. “And don't sweat it about what you did here. I won't argue it's not healthy to give into your old urges, but it's not like you had a choice. Chihiro told you what we'd overheard, right? A bunch of real scum. I doubt they would have left us alone."

Hana didn't reply, but now felt even more ashamed. While he was right, she still gave her word that she would leave the other bandits alone if they gave up Jubei. That she then attacked unprovoked...

Sota patted her shoulder, breaking her line of thought, then said, “now, let's see about that leg."

He pulled open the blankets he had given her and gently extended Hana's leg as she gritted her teeth, then snipped at the blood-stained clothing around her thigh before peeling the cut fabric to expose the wound. Sota kept his composure as the strands of drying blood and drenched fur made a grisly, sticky noise, but at last, the injury was exposed.

She grunted as she glanced at it and said, “I've grown complacent, letting such brigands strike me like that."

He couldn't help but chuckle. “Glad to see you haven't lost the ability to just focus on your foe with The Dragon's own tempestuous fury though."

“You say that while ignoring your own wounds," Hana replied, nodding down to his belly. “You should be resting."

“Both of us ignoring medical advice and evading death by a hair's breadth for what must be... ohh, maybe the ten thousandth time?"

Chihiro chirped, “kek! Hare bread, hare bread, have a bowl of worms instead!"

Sota snorted and smirked, but kept working. He cleaned around the wound and studied the projectile's shaft. “Tsk, it's splintered on both ends. Okay, I'm going to have to saw off the arrowhead and pull it through."

Hana gritted her teeth, then nodded. “Do it."

It really was how their lives were destined to flow. Always another bout of trouble, but Hana couldn't deny that they were still together. Still alive. She had focused too much on this, especially back when they finally confronted Lord Kou. Too much on the worst aspects of the past, the ocean of the grim rather than the islets of peace and normality. So instead, to distract herself as Sota took a saw to the shaft and the burn of pain and ache of vibration set through her leg, she tried to distract herself by remembering the first time they just had peace, even under lock and key. Of course, it wasn't as simple as that.

She remembered writing about this moment. A poem.

Patter in the dark,

A flickering in twilight,

Motives shift and wane.

Like now, it wasn't her finest moment. Hana never found much pride in her talents, but defeat was an infrequent bedfellow.

“Yep, there we go..."

Hana snapped back to the present as Sota tossed away the arrowhead, then scrutinised the shaft.

“Tsk, damn crude arrow shafts still got a few too many knots in the wood. It's embedded right deep. If I pull it one way, it'll splinter, and the other it'll drag that lump through your thigh instead."

“Enough consideration," Hana grumbled, “just pull the thing out already. I've endured worse and you have the means to clean the wound."

Sota sucked on his teeth and nodded. “Fair. Chihiro, pass me those tongs."

Chihiro handed Sota the tool, which he clamped over the splintered end of the shaft and squeezed the prongs together.

“This is still going to hurt like a bastard," he said, “you ready?"

Hana nodded and closed her eyes.

“One, two... three!"

* * *

18th of High-Scatter, 1552

“Ready or not," Varisidra called, “here I come!"

Hana spun at the footfalls, and slashed at the darkness.

“No, over here!"

She twisted again. A figure in the black! Hana rushed ahead and lanced at it, only for a loud crackle and splintering of glass to shock her ears into folding down.

“What?"

She squinted and tried to listen again, then saw two long ears stand up on the now misshapen silhouette. It was a mirror.

A searing pain lashed across her back. Hana snarled and pulled her sword free and attacked behind her, only to see Varisidra fade out of view, back in the maze.

Feeling blood trickle from the cut on her shoulder blade, Hana ran after her illusive foe, only to find a well illuminated section of the maze, but also a dead end.

“Come out and face me, you coward!"

Hana took another swing behind her as footfalls darted here, there and everywhere. Her ears pivoted left and right, flattening back and pricking up wildly. The narrow walls let the sounds travel far, but the origin defied even her sensitive hearing.

Varisidra scoffed from the dark. “You harm my son, infiltrate my ship and attempt to attack me in my own quarters, and you expect a fair battle? Your naivete is matched only by your stubbornness. You could end this now by dropping your sword and offering your surrender!"

Hana hated chatting in a fight but the more Varisidra spoke, the more likely Hana was of catching some sign of her presence.

“You didn't seem to object to a fair fight in that previous room. Why the sudden change? Or are you simply a coward who knew they were on the verge of defeat?"

“Merely a cera'an trait," Varisidra said with a chuckle. “We enjoy watching our foes squirm before we sink our teeth into their necks for the killing blow. I'm simply waiting for the right moment."

Hana's ears angled to the side as she heard movement as she retraced her steps back into the maze and took another turn. Silence loomed.

“If you're waiting for me to tire myself out, I shan't indulge you," Hana called out. “I once remained alert and awake for three days for a single opportunity to strike one target."

“Oh, please. Has it not occurred to you that I could have called for help at any time?"

Hana clenched her jaw. “Then why don't you?"

Varisidra's voice sounded close by. “Like I said when we first met, I detest conducting business through others. The cera'an way weeds out the weak and those incapable of leading by example, and you're only still alive because you're a curiosity. More useful alive than dead... for the moment."

Hana stared at a wall as her ears centred upon it, and she leaned closer.

The tiny creak of wood. Short, gentle breaths. With a gentle step back, Hana thrust her sword through the wall panel. She heard Varisidra gasp, followed by the sound of her footfalls pattering away.

Hana tore her blade back out of the wood, the edge frustratingly void of Varisidra's blood, and rushed to the end of her corridor. She turned the corner and collided with her target.

“Bracsha!" Varisidra lashed out with her knife but Hana hooked the Cera'an's arm with her own.

Varisidra then went to punch across the inousa's jaw. Hana deflected the jab with the haft of her sword, then went to draw the blade against Varisidra's body, but the catfolk snagged the cross guard with the inside of her arm, then headbutted Hana on the nose. Her vision swam and blurred from the tears as Varisidra then reached across and took her knife with her free hand. Hana changed her own grip to free her weapon and catch her foe's knife, but Varisidra maintained the tangle of arms.

They were as strong as each other, but ferocity alone didn't favour Hana against a craftier foe. Varisidra was swifter as well. She was still dazed, but Hana tried to knock away Varisidra's dagger with an arm, taking another cut as the tip sliced through her sleeve, then Hana returned with a knee.

Varisidra twisted her hips to dampen the blow and spun back. Once more they circled each other. The catfolk slowed her assault as she caught her breath, and began to twirl her dagger as the tempo of the battle eased.

Hana licked a trickle of blood from her nose, then wiped a sleeve across her eyes to clear the tears and narrowed her gaze on the dancing knife. Hana had her opening. She held her sword front and centre and observed as her foe settled back into her confident and casual attitude. Hana relaxed as she took a long, slow breath.

Varisidra snickered, then flicked the blade so it rested on the back of her hand, then Hana lunged. It was an ungainly and overextended stride and flick of the sword, but Varisidra's desperate attempt to catch her knife was just as weak. The nodachi clipped the dagger and sent it clattering aside.

Disarmed yet undeterred, Varisidra leapt at Hana to capitalise on her poor footing. Once more fighting too close for the nodachi's effective reach, the inousa still had strength to spend, and she pushed the fight against a wall. They snarled at each other, both their ears folded back, eyes wild and Varisidra's tail flailed as Hana tried to pull herself free, but then launched another knee into Varisidra's side, and the blow struck clean. The cera'an grunted and weakened as Hana then raised her sword over the clinch and went to bring the stem of the blade to Varisidra's neck.

Varisidra placed her hand over Hana's face then extended her claws and dug them into Hana's forehead and cheek. Her other arm gripped at Hana's kimono, the leverage blocking the sword from reaching her exposed throat. Hana gritted her teeth and gasped in pain. The pad of Varisidra's index finger glanced against her eye, the claw a split second from shredding and blinding her. Hana had to release her hold on her arm and smash Varisidra in the face with the pommel of her nodachi. Varisidra took the metal cap of the grip square in the temple and stumbled aside, her back turned as she used the wall for stability.

Free and with space to move, Hana tried to finish her off. She ran in, sword first. Varisidra twirled on one foot and swatted the blade with something hard. The scabbard of her dagger. It was shattered in two by the razor sharp nodachi, but it still deflected the stab as Hana struck the wall. Varisidra then lashed out with the broken sheath. The attack fell short, but something emerged from the broken tip. Like twinkling stars.

Not stars, but it sparkled in the meagre light just like it. A cloud of shimmering particles and dust.

Hana felt the powder strike her eyes before she could snap them shut. She gasped and felt it tickle in her throat, then coughed as she blindly lunged about. Her foot landed on Varisidra's fallen dagger, so she kept herself planted and listened for movement, still lashing out to protect herself, but heard nothing.

Moments passed before Hana forced her eyes open. She was alone again.

“My respect, Ms. Akikawa," Varisidra said, now distant. “You almost had me."

Hana wiped the blood and excess powder from the claw marks on her face, now merging with the graze on the side of her head from the earlier scimitar cut, and saw the speckled clumps of whatever Varisidra had thrown mixed amongst the scarlet. The wounds were superficial but messy, and even the one on her back wasn't too bad, yet she suddenly felt light headed.

“You're delaying the inevitable!" Hana bellowed and shook her head, trying to recover her focus. “You're disarmed, and I won't miss a second time!"

“Oh, but that's where you're wrong. So very wrong. Nice dagger, by the way."

Hana frowned. “What?"

“Your tanto. It's very pretty."

Reaching into her kimono, Hana felt her dagger's sheath, but now bereft of the weapon. Her heart froze.

The last remnant of her family was now in the hands of her enemy.

* * *

A tempest. A roaring whirlwind of steel, fur and turquoise conflagration.

Sota had to out-think Quartz and use his speed. This time there was no time to think. Just act, yet that still felt fruitless.

Rose threw her tetsubo around her with reckless abandon. No technique or discipline, but it didn't matter. The wooden deck shattered with every downward slam. Wood slivers were flung into the silent Cera'an onlookers each time Rose pried the cudgel free, then spun and turned as she threw herself in a constant advance. The air was filled with the whooshing sounds of each attack, only drowned out by the near-constant feral roars of indiscriminate hatred.

A storm or tidal wave would have been a mercy. Being struck by lightning preferable. The Dragon's own singular judgement upon Sota to doom him to eternal darkness a blessing. At least it would probably be quick.

Anything but this primal force of violence. Fire's wrath and as enduring as the earth itself.

There were openings. Plenty of them. Sota had struck Rose two dozen times. Jabs, stiff slams and hammer blows against her head, torso, arms and legs. His jutte vibrated in his hand from the impact of each square and perfect blow. Striking Quartz felt useless, but Sota swore each of his attacks just fuelled Rose's rage and made her stronger.

He was past exhaustion. Adrenaline was the only thing filling his veins. Fear itself his sole companion. He needed help.

“To the hells with this," he gasped.

Damn exposure. Damn anyone learning his deepest secrets. He had to use the tool that made him a wanted man.

Rose made another ungainly downward crash of her weapon and the club was embedded in the solid boards, yet Sota knew she would free it in seconds.

Sota plucked all the ofuda he had from his haori. One draped across his jutte, he pressed another against his forehead, and the last he let fall to the floor.

“Forgive me... Kioku!"

A mist-like trail flowed from Sota's forehead, through the talisman, into his jutte and down to the ground as the last ofuda landed.

Sota's frantic mind faded, and the focus of his training as a Tongueless, Wels Vanders, took over. Their minds as one.

Rose wrenched her tetsubo free just as the vaporous trail swirled around Sota's jutte and took the reforged steel's former shape. A broad bladed and curved sword pointed at her as he held the ghostly messer's grip softly in both hands. His fingers caressed the worn wood, as it had a thousand times before. His tried-and-true companion.

Quartz narrowed his gaze on the more assured man's stance and the presence of magic, but Rose was too incensed to care.

Sota pranced aside, and the tip of his ghostly blade redirected another undisciplined lunge. Rose followed the swing and staggered as Sota then rounded the sword overhead, spun and sliced a deep cut into the catfolk's side. He deftly hopped back and prepared to receive another charge. He was not left wanting.

Ignorant of her mounting wounds, Rose spun and swung wide. Sota took half a step back and lifted his blade to let the tetsubo swing by, then poked his blade into her chest a good five inches, plucked it free, then cut across her shoulder as he withdrew from Rose's counter swing.

Sota was as water to her unwavering fire. Wels was the wind to her relentless earth. All the elements were here in this duel. He danced, as he always did, and frustrated the already enraged Rose. No longer blunt strikes against an invulnerable rager, now he was plucking holes into her body. Nipping and snipping. A thousand cuts in a myriad dance of little steps and flourishes. Blood spent that would eventually lead to her defeat

Rose's wounds seeped an endless spill as the tan and white parts of her fur turned deep scarlet. The deck of the ship was its own visceral sea. Somehow, despite everything, she continued to fight.

“Enough!" Quartz called out. “Rose, mesad. Mesad!"

Deep down Sota hoped she would relent, but she showed no signs of self-preservation. He feared Quartz demands would mean the necessary thousand more cuts needed to vanquish Rose would be interrupted. Thus, he aimed to end it in one.

Rose's predictable chaos sent another flurry of lunges Sota's way, which he slipped between with little effort, then he set his feet and thrust, impaling Rose straight through. The tetsubo fell from her hand with a deep thud.

A loud gasp rang out amongst the onwatching cera'an, then a dead, unnerving silence. Yet this paled against the continued wrath in Rose's eyes as she gripped Sota's forearms and pulled them closer together, drawing the sword deeper through her body.

She clenched her teeth and coughed blood as Sota tried to pull back, but her impossible endurance and strength wouldn't be denied. Instead, she slammed a fist into his face.

Sota fell back as his spiritual second wind was undone. Pain forged of fatigue and blunt force trauma took hold. Rose fell atop and mounted Sota and wrapped her hands around his neck and began to throttle him. Sota's head crashed against the planks as he choked. His hearing rang like a funerary bell. He was pinned, yet floated. Everything grew distant. Like he was outside of himself.

He clawed at her fingers then wrists and arms. The scars there suddenly made perfect sense. She had done this to many foes, likely even her own people, to have earned those deep scars.

Sota almost laughed at the revelation, let alone that now, and only now, did Rose finally seem to slow. Her grip maintained, yet Rose's eyes grew less sure or focused, and the green fire within them less intense. Or maybe he was just growing numb as everything started going black. Everything just grew more and more distant. Everything except his heartbeat. A dull, hollow, rhythmical yet dwindling tempo.

Sota was finally released, but he couldn't breathe. His muscles wouldn't respond. His exhaustion from the fight and invocation of more magic than he had used in years had taken its toll.

Quartz stumbled into view as he pulled Rose off and out of sight. He then turned and barked orders at the other cera'an.

Then Sota's eyes rolled back into his skull, and his heart's rhythm stopped.

* * *

Hana didn't need to search long to locate Varisidra. Every step became harder. Her limbs felt as if they were filling with sand.

Of course, a conniving diplomat would resort to poison. Her own son had tried to do the same when taking Sota and herself captive. She cursed her lack of foresight.

The Cera'an matriarch was casually leaning against a wall and inspecting Hana's tanto, with the modern coil lights burning brighter with an insultingly inviting glow. Her fiery turquoise eyes moved from the majestic blade and over at Hana.

“This is precious to you, no? Perhaps you would be willing to trade?"

Hana froze. She tried to think of a way to distract Varisidra from one of the only things Hana still had in this world that mattered to her.

“A... a mere trinket, I-"

Varisidra laughed. “An artisan piece by a famous inousan weaponsmith of whom even I have heard spoken in reverence? Patterned with morning glories? This is no mere trinket. You certainly raised a tremendous ruckus over getting it back from that gambling den, if my men are to be believed. Almost like this is your most prized possession."

Hana bared her teeth. Her mind flooded with anger and helplessness. She recovered some clarity and steeled herself.

“I'll tell you what," Varisidra said with a smirk. “Here's my trade: this dagger for your sword."

Hana clenched her nodachi and started to run at Varisidra, but staggered and fell against a wall.

The catfolk twirled the tanto in front of her and slowly approached.

Hana's legs grew numb. Her heart hammered in her ears. She felt as helpless as she had the night her clan fell as the poison pulled at her consciousness.

Varisidra's grin grew broad. Predatory.

“Tsk, tsk. As pretty and undoubtedly expensive as this blade is, you value it over your own life? It is a tool, you foolish girl. Currency. In a just society, such things are only worth what they can give you, and what they can give is solely to the credit of the one wielding it."

“You're an honourless coward," Hana hissed as she trembled, her vision growing dim. “The worst kind of foreign barbarian."

Varisidra cackled. “Honour! A lovely sentiment. It, too, is a tool! One used by the martially superior to cow those they deem below their station! I believe there is an oft-derided philosophy amongst your people. Gekokujo I believe it's called in the old tongue? That the lowest people can become rulers?"

Hana continued to struggle as Varisidra ranted, to bring her sword up to protect herself, but it felt too heavy.

“Your kind force the common-folk believe themselves inferior, and so they shall be. Too afraid to stand up and fight back! Such a wonderful little scheme you, and the entirety of Samsara love to employ."

Varisidra sauntered closer, still admiring the dagger. Hana waited with bated breath for an opportunity to strike as Varisidra continued and circled closer. To throw all her strength into one swing.

“See, I represent potential and progress," Varisidra continued. “Every person born with wits yet honed, brawn yet hewn, spirit yet unleashed, I shall seek them out to give them the opportunity to rise above their station. To offer them the path to greatness! I guide and nurture them until each becomes their best self! I shall collapse every bloodline-erected and self-important pillar with the many hands upon which they look down! To the hells with your Samsaran honour. The only thing worth honouring is a contract built on mutual respect and fair trade, reinforced with talent and hard work!"

Varisidra was close enough that Hana could feel her body heat. And she lashed out with every ounce of her strength. Yet as the blade began to rise, she saw two things. The smirk of her enemy, and the delicate, glistening tanto in Varisidra's hand, ready to intercept the attack.

Hana couldn't do it. Not even to save her life with this desperate attack. To tarnish and damage the final gift her father had given her would destroy the last shreds of her self-worth, and deprive it the ability to be the blade that ended Lord Kou's life.

Hana let the sword fling across the hall as Hana stumbled from the rotation of her attack. Her hearing muffled the clatter of immortal steel on the floor, then she fell to her knees.

“Naive little girl," Varisidra whispered as she glared down at Hana. “You lost the moment you boarded my ship."

The catfolk knelt and held Hana's shoulders, then guided her onto her back. Varisidra then called out something in her native tongue, and several figures stepped in from the shadows.

All this time, they were never alone. Varisidra wasn't bluffing; she was in command every step of the way. Just a high risk yet ultimately calculated game to diminish Hana's standing and enhance her own, befitting of St. Valarie's faithful. Always trade up, and be unafraid of risk.

“I hate to see potential squandered," Varisidra said as she stood. “And I'll get my money's worth out of you yet."

And then Hana plunged into the black in full.

* * *

“... protest. I have my hands full already, let alone with you taking him out of my care for your-"

“Your objections are noted and your patience appreciated, Hanbei-san," a female voice said... Varisidra's voice. “But I shall ask again: is he stable?"

Hanbei grumbled, but sighed as he replied, “yes, he's spared The Dragon's judgement for now."

“Good. I shall be as swift as I can, but I need to work out whether they're even worth your continued care."

There was a long silence, which let Sota start recovering his senses. Pains and aches across his body settled in, but everything felt numb and distant. Vague blurs danced in his vision.

“Well?" Varisidra snapped. “Be tending to my daughter in the meanwhile. I shall send for you if, and only if, they prove compliant."

Hanbei huffed, and his footfalls moved away. A door then opened and closed.

“Quarzanris, if you would?"

Sota's senses were bombarded with something repugnant. A smell with a presence... ammonia. He lunged as he sat up, then moaned in pain as his body was wracked with pain. Remnants of his fight with Rose. His eyes opened and he found himself in Varisidra's quarters, but a familiar brute filled most of his vision.

“Try not to move, sir," Quartz said as he looked Sota over, then nodded. “You're bound anyway, I just don't want you exacerbating your condition."

Sota gritted his teeth. “I'll keep that in mind, bastard."

Quartz sighed. “This whole situation is already a mess. I'd recommend-"

“My son, please stop fraternising with our captives," Varisidra said as Quartz stood aside and the matriarch came into view.

One of her eyes was swollen near closed, yet not enough to ward off the terrifying flame of malice within them. She stood over Sota and took a sip of a deep red wine as she studied him.

“Let me bring you up to speed: you're my prisoner. I commend your audacious infiltration of my ship, question your sanity in attempting to take me hostage and I loathe that you put your hands on my son, but let's negotiate. I have something you want in the form of your ability to still breathe, and you both have something I want in the form of information."

“Both?" Sota winced and looked to the side.

Hana sat, equally bound, next to Sota. She stared at the floor, her upper body disrobed besides the sarashi binding for modesty around her chest, but now extended with a dressing around her shoulders. Her facial fur was stained with dried blood and a scattering of small cuts lined her whole head, though they were coated in a sticky looking green substance.

Sota fidgeted to get closer. “Hoi, you okay?"

Varisidra sniffed as she headed to her desk and sat down. “A few lacerations besides, she's fine. She's just sulking. A sore loser, like most inousa."

Hana's eyes flinched as her hatred boiled beneath the surface.

“But enough about her, Kuwabata-san."

Sota hissed in pain as much as he grimaced at the situation. Body and pride stung a great deal, but only one avenue of escape was evident. It was time to lick catfolk boot.

“Uh, wait a second here... can we start over?"

Varisidra licked her lips and clasped her fingers together. “That would be a prudent move. I take no pleasure in these wasteful skirmishes when I know nothing of your true motives, yet you've interfered and instigated hostility with me on two separate occasions. Start talking, and we'll see where this goes."

“I'm Sota Nakamura. This is Hana Akikawa," he said as he nodded to the silent inousa. “We never meant you any harm. Our goal is as you already know: we need to find Lord Kou and put him to the sword. He is one of the only people alive who knows who I truly am, and he was the man who saw to the death of Hana's family."

“And just who are you, Nakamura-san? Besides a glib trickster and evidently a... what are they called? Tongueless? Despite the obvious fact you still possess yours."

Sota nodded. “A former prospective agent of The Dragon Ministry, until I saw the truth behind their methods. I couldn't deal in their ways any longer, so I escaped. While the Ministry knows I still live, Lord Kou is the last piece that keeps me tethered to them."

Varisidra's eyes drew narrow. “How so?"

Sota glanced at Hana and gulped. “... that's a more complicated question than you know. The short version is that I... helped Lord Kou, and he possesses something I used in a ritual to enact that assistance, and that possession is something I must extinguish to earn my freedom."

Varisidra observed Sota for a moment, then glanced at Quartz.

The most horrible part was Sota could tell Hana's attention shot to him, even if she didn't raise her head. An aura of hostility loomed thicker than the persistent ire of the catfolk due to Sota's deeper connection than he had mentioned before.

Quartz stared at Sota, but then turned to his mother and nodded.

“The truth then," Varisidra said and finished her wine. “Excellent. Don't mind us. My boy has a gift for reading the unspoken motives of others, and his mellow affectation a balm to my severity. I find his interjections in these talks invaluable. Now, as for Akikawa-hime... I assume that title still suffices? I understand the Great Inousan houses are widely considered royalty, correct?"

Hana furrowed her brow but maintained her silence.

Sota watched her discomfort, then replied, “I'm afraid I don't know the specifics."

“I'm sure you know a great deal that you're not telling, Nakamura-san," Varisidra said with a chuckle. “After all, it doesn't take a genius to realise your affiliation, tied to Lord Kou and the Akikawa by extension as it is, is most certainly is entwined with her ordeal. Perhaps a debt owed for assisting the man who saw about the death of her family. Or was she unaware until just now?"

Sota grimaced and glanced at Hana again. She refused to raise her gaze, but she was shivering. Pain, sorrow, anger. Perhaps all three.

He continued, “I'd rather not open such a wound now. At least no wider than it already has been torn. I wouldn't mind discussing it in time. I give my word."

“Well, you've already been most helpful, Nakamura-san," Varisidra said and stood. “Akikawa-hime? Have you anything to add?"

Continued silence.

Varisidra rolled her eyes. “Oh, for pity's sake... you're beginning to frustrate me. Let me be entirely transparent: I demand to know everything that happened between the two of you and Lord Kou. I once believed him to be a troubled but otherwise honourable man. He has been a sole friendly face, outside of the more genial Nabanba province, as well as his actions as a liaison between my clan and the Ministry. I've known the man for two years. Nobody else has so much as given us more than threats at arrow-point, and the savagery of this Saints-forsaken place grows tiresome."

She closed in on Hana and folded her arms. “You pursue me and suggest he slew your family. I can understand the desire for revenge, but your path is self-destructive to a degree of which I find baffling. An overt and farcical pursuit."

Hana snapped her gaze up at Varisidra and she yelled, “because you know nothing of honour, you scum! You know nothing of the torment I endured! Lord Kou executed my family in cold blood as I watched, helpless!"

Varisidra's casual demeanour faded as Hana's gaze lowered once more and her whiskers stood on end. The catfolk stormed to her desk, took the bottle of wine and poured it into her glass until it overflowed. She then sank the rest of the bottle and hurled it against the wall. The shattering made everyone flinch except the two women, and Varisidra knelt down in front of her captive and leaned close.

“You betray your naivete every time you open your mouth, girl. The world is bigger than you, and the depths you wish to plunge will drag others down with you." She grabbed Hana by the ears, wrenched back her head and stared into her eyes.

Hana met them and kept her stoicism, but her eyes grew wet.

Varisidra pulled them nose to nose, and growled, “and I'm keenly aware of tragedy and suffering. Lord Kou may have put your family to the sword, and to that I sympathise. Truly, I do. But unless you know how it feels to be forced to execute your own flesh and blood, I'd curb your barbs and listen rather than just rampage for once. I abhor your ignorant so-called 'nobility.' It's a trait that discards all that surrounds them out of selfishness. Wasteful and malicious."

She threw Hana aside, who crashed to the floor, and Varisidra stormed back to her desk. She gulped the rest of her wine and remained silent for a time, before finally her shoulders slumped.

Quartz cleared his throat. “Mother, do you wish for me to take over the interrogation?"

Varisidra waved her hand as if swatting a fly, and she turned to face Hana, who remained prone on the floor. The matriarch's expression dulled and became unreadable, but the drooping of her whiskers and ears spoke of a woman burdened of her memories.

“I know what drives a woman to act in such desperate means, as it's a path I've walked myself, which is why I haven't just executed you on the spot, but I will find out everything you know. Unlike you, Akikawa-hime, I act only when I understand the pieces at play and calculate the risks involved to all players: slaying Lord Kou would cause devastation on a national scale."

Sota fidgeted, plucked up his courage, and spoke up. “What's more to tell? Hana's on a path of revenge, I'm on a path to erase my presence. I'd say it's now up to you whether you believe us or not, or whether you sympathise. So, I'll ask you a question in return: why are you dithering over this? Why would you consider our words over that of your ally, let alone care about a nation not your own?"

Varisidra glowered at Sota for a moment, then looked aside. “Because I already had a few suspicions that Lord Kou wasn't the man I had thought him to be, and your sudden, desperate attempt on myself only further solidifies that detail. The longer I remain in Samsara, the more I suspect all my attempts to influence changes fall on deaf ears. If one of the most respected and lasting lords of Samsara won't heed my words after accepting a full alliance and exchange of culture, then it makes me wonder if I've been played for a fool, and perhaps an upheaval by overthrowing Lord Kou will be the best move."

Sota tilted his head. “Changes? What changes?"

“That's not really any of your business," Varisidra said. She stood straight, but seemed more brittle than any other time since their first meeting, and continued, “I grow weary, and I should leave you time to recover, so here's what's going to happen: we're going to set sail for Nabanba province, but I'm going to conduct a thorough investigation as to what happened to the Akikawa. In the meanwhile, you two will be my prisoners. Comply, and no harm will come to you. Attempt to escape, or if I discover you're lying to me, and I'll have you executed on the spot. Am I understood?"

Sota glanced at Hana, who remained all but catatonic, and he nodded.

“We would be fools to refuse. But how long do you think this investigation will take?"

Varisidra forced a smile as she slumped back into her chair.

“I hope you don't mind a life at sea. Otherwise, I hope you learn to adapt quickly. For now, I'll leave you in the care of our surgeon. Quarzanris?"

The quiet giant nodded. “I'll retrieve Hanbei-san."

* * *

6th Day of Tearful Sky, 1554

“Well, I'm no Hanbei-san or even little Twikoren," Sota said, “but I think I'd make a halfway decent healer. Once we get back to Kyoba I can set you up with an ofuda to speed up the recovery."

“I was expecting an ocean of blood, but that isn't bad," Hana said and inspected her leg as Sota finished dressing the wound. “Thank you. An ofuda won't be necessary. You've been through enough as it is, let alone draining your strength to create more talismans."

Hana went to stand, but her leg refused to move from the numbness of the medication Sota had applied.

“Here, allow me," he said and offered her a hand. “Chihiro, could you retrieve Hana's sword?"

“Yes, yes! I'm on it!"

Chihiro hopped over to the nodachi as Sota got Hana on her feet. The yatagha's slim build and short size against the seven-foot weapon was a bewildering sight that made Hana wonder if she would fall over if she attempted to swing the blade, but Chihiro brandished it with a skilled grip and draped it over her shoulders.

“Um... Hare-na, where's the sheathy-sheath?"

Hana tutted at herself. “I must have discarded it back where I fought Jubei. I'm not sure where that is, I'm a bit disorientated after last night."

Chihiro cawed and snapped her eyes back towards the village, her head twitching and bobbing for a few moments, then she bounded off askew from the route back to the village.

“Of course she remembers where it was," Sota said with a chuckle. “Come on, she'll catch up with us."

Sota crouched down for Hana to climb onto his back. She hesitated and bowed her head.

“You act as if nothing has changed," she whispered.

“It hasn't. At least not to me. We're alive, we're together, we're protecting each other. That's all that matters."

“But things have changed." Hana used her good leg to hop onto Sota's back. “Between what happened with Lord Kou, and what you-"

Sota tutted. “Can we move past that? Please? I know you're a self-professed stick in the mud, but if I have to uproot the whole damn field in which you've buried yourself, I will. What happened happened. We still fought beside one another and got into scrapes for over a year. We lived together for a couple of months in comfort. I will never apologise for how things happened, but I will make amends for them if you'll let me, and that starts with me helping you back home."

Hana felt the old pain and tempestuous side of her try to push back, but she just sighed.

“You're right... I cannot help but think back on what Varisidra said: my honour seems to only bring misery, both to myself and others."

“Hey now, none of that. There's a difference between your morals and your honour. Some things aren't worth getting worked up over." Sota glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. “Besides, you should be counting The Dragon's own luck that you didn't lose your leg. Inousan feet fetch a high price on the black market as good luck charms."

“Nonsense," Hana scoffed. “What wild, idiotic fantasy are you talking about?"

Sota snorted as he withheld a laugh. “Some people outside of Samsara keep rabbit feet even to this day as inspired by the troubled times of the Second Great Samsaran War. It's based on an old practice that the lords of the time, in the early days of The Dragon Ministry, would take the heads of their more famed enemies to receive honour, fame and even treasures. Now an intact head's pretty final and identifiable, right?"

Hana nodded as she fidgeted to get comfortable on Sota's back. “Barbaric as it is, yes. That was certainly as it's told in the historic texts."

“So feared were the inousa that any sign of a defeated samurai hare was seen as a blessing, and the best way to dispatch one of your people was to rob them of their greatest asset: their mobility. A one-legged inousa was hardly much of a threat. It then gave rise to the idea that collecting inousan feet was the surest way to ensure one less terrifying foe in war."

“This is such an absurd tale," Hana said, barely stifling a chuckle. “They might as well have taken heads as they did with humans. It's more definitive."

“Ah, but taking an inousan head would just anger the great hare families, no? Send them vying for grand and terrible revenge, as you may well be aware, Madam Akikawa."

Hana scowled. Sota didn't need to look but he knew she was staring into the back of his head.

“Meanwhile a maimed inousa puts them in a strange scenario: they should be grateful for their lives, able to continue their families and what not, yet were still removed from the field of battle. All the same, The Dragon Ministry still took a harsh view of the practice of butchering any living thing, so the practice was frowned upon and bounties dried up. Of course, the capture of inousan feet were still a sign of one less terror on the battlefield. There was also the tale of Two-Foot Takura, who tried to take both feet from every inousan corpse and sell them to two different lords, but that's a story for another day."

“I see we've gone from barely speaking to you overflowing like Kyoba village's dam," Hana said with a snort. “I suppose it bears consideration that we should talk some more, lest you explode into ceaseless prattle at inopportune moments."

Sota chuckled. “I just might! It's as good a reason as any to just get along, no?"

Hana grew silent for a moment. Then she smirked. “It will suffice."

Even if he couldn't see her clearly over his shoulder, Sota smiled too.

After a short distance towards the village, Chihiro returned with Hana's sword, now sheathed.

“Um... Hare-na? The scabbard's been damaged, there's a split-"

Hana clenched against Sota's back. “It's nothing. I mean, it's fine! Never mind."

“Let me see. I could probably repair it." Sota slowed and turned toward Chihiro.

“We could be in danger out here," Hana snapped and bounced in Sota's grip. “We should continue back."

Chihiro held out the sheathed nodachi and Sota looked at it closer, then tilted his head.

“It looks like the back's been split intentionally," Sota said, then snickered. “Almost like it's designed to help sheathe and unsheathe the untarnishable blade more swiftly. Suspiciously like how I suggested you do when we first met."

“Oh, uh," Hana said, growing quiet, but speaking quicker. More desperately. “Did you say that? I made the choice myself. Perhaps I forgot what you said but recalled it as my own idea. Besides, it seemed a practical measure."

Chihiro peered up over Sota's shoulder. “Why're your ears turning reddy-red?"

“B-because... I'm cold and hungry!" Hana snapped. She then sneezed. “And see? I think I'm running a fever. T-that's why! Enough of this meandering. We should return home."

“Uh-huh," Sota said and adjusted Hana's position on his back. “Right you are, Hana."

The three headed back towards Kyoba village in silence. Chihiro, ever unreadable, hopped ahead, but Sota and Hana both kept glancing towards each other over his shoulder, but never quite meeting each other's eye.

If they could, they would see one another smiling.

* * *