Ten years after the events involving Kubo's family, his now mortal grandfather passes away. Having still held onto the legendary sword, armor, and helmet through circumstance, Kubo decides to place two-thirds of the treasure back where he found them, and discover a new place to hide the helmet. But he needs new companions for the journey, especially since he has more family members than he was previously aware of.

AN: Short note. There are Japanese words spliced in throughout the story out of necessity. Most is basic vocabulary. I won't be leaving translations, it is up to the reader to research the meanings on their own time if they so choose. Enjoy.

Ten years ago, a little village in Japan was destroyed— left burnt and crumbling as if something massive had taken bites out of it. Humans are stubborn little things however. Like cockroaches the thirty or so villagers had plucked themselves from the rubble and rebuilt the structures they called home.

In one such structure, a particularly tenacious human sat on his knees, at an old man's deathbed. He held a wrinkled hand in his as he gave a sad yet steady smile.

"Kubo..." the old man croaked out, returning the smile with one of his own— something passed down in the family, it would seem, "thank you... I'm glad... that I got... to live my life... with you as my grandson..."

"And I'm glad that I have you, Grandfather," the boy— nay, the young man— replied. His elder's smile strengthened, and the light in his left eye flickered before it faded forever, the right remaining the same glassy milk white. The grip on Kubo's hand was slack, and the young man felt himself slipping into that familiar daze of grief.

Another family member— and the last— gone. This time, he knew it was coming. His grandfather was mortal, after all. And age often brings a slow death. As slow as death could get, at least. Still, it left Kubo unable to move for the longest time. It was over. Even after that fearsome battle, he had still chosen this path. The path of forgiveness. Kubo thought that it might have been a decision most wouldn't make. Living and caring for the person who had taken his eye, had tried to take the other, and most of all— killed his parents. But he had done it, with the help of the community. Willingly and eagerly as well. He had even enjoyed it, passing the days with his grandfather had helped fill the hole left by his parents' murder. At times it had been like caring for his mother.

His mother. The woman who had fought tooth and nail to protect him to the very end and beyond. And his father—

Kubo remained still, silencing his thoughts. All was well. He had his memories of his family. All of it, right down to his aunts. If only he had had the chance to know their humanity the way he had known his grandfather's.

Finally, he leaned forward and closed the old man's eyes. Next he got to his feet and covered the small family shrine with a white cloth. The split monkey statue and his father's broken bow served as relics of his parents there. Something of his grandfather's would have to be added later. After the shrine was covered as per tradition, Kubo prepared himself to go outside. The villagers were waiting. They knew the kind old man's time was up, and had come to pay their respects. Those that had continued on with their day were basically right outside the door anyway. Kubo had a sneaking suspicion that the old beggar woman— ever the epitome of youthful vigor— had stationed herself in front of their home.

The young man padded his bare feet out of the room and down the hall. He put on his sandals and slid open his front door, and sure enough the beggar woman was there.

"Kubo!" She exclaimed. "How's your grandfather do... ing.." but she trailed off when she took full notice of his somber expression. "Oh..."

"His passing was peaceful, obaa-san," Kubo reassured as she slumped back down onto her legs. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Why, of course...! Anything you need."

"Spread the word for me... I need to begin the funeral preparations."

"Alright... leave it to me. And Kubo?"

"Yes?"

"Take care of yourself, okay?" He paused, then gave her one of those smiles passed down the generations of his mother's family.

"I will."

The days of mourning were long, but not as painful as they could have been. The villagers supported Kubo through the difficult times. Finally, it was over, and Kubo was alone in the humble house he had lived in with his idle minded grandfather for the past ten years.

He contemplated going up to the cliff-side cave he had called home. He contemplated a lot of things actually. It was a strange thing to be so left alone with his thoughts. Eventually he decided that he'd rather clean the house a bit. He could go visit the cave later.

And so he dusted, swept, washed, wrung, hanged, beat, scrubbed, and mopped the day away. He tidied his grandfather's belongings and put them in order. He didn't have the heart to pack them away somewhere just yet. A torn sleeve from the first humble kimono he had seen on his grandfather was chosen to be placed in the family shrine. Before he knew it, the sun had gone down and he had nothing else to do.

Thus he walked. Out of the empty and pristine house, up the steep Cliffside pass, and into the dank cave. He knew not what brought him here exactly. Over the past ten years he had made the trek up every week to reminisce and to check on... oh.

Baffled at his own foggy mind, Kubo realized that it was time to check on his family "heirlooms." He walked over to the square hole in the stone wall and peered inside. Something glinted. He reached in, grabbed hold, and gingerly slid the shiny object out.

The Sword Unbreakable. Permanently polished blade, golden handle— a hit against the floor to test that it was not a duplicate— it remained safe and sound, hidden as it was.

Kubo laid it down where he had once lain his mother to bed every night, then pulled back the worn and faded fabric of the abandoned bed. Hidden underneath was a meticulously cut and carved compartment with a "lid" designed to hide the fact there was anything but solid rock under the futon. The twenty-two year old man lifted the lid next. Tucked inside the hidden storage space was the other two pieces of the legendary set: the Breastplate Impenetrable and the Helmet Invulnerable.

He could have kept them close, shoved in the back of a closet. What would have been even better was if he had gone on another journey to discard them back where he had found them. He couldn't have gone off on an adventure, especially alone, because his last living relative needed him. He hadn't even been willing to go on another quest, not after his last one. Preparations had quickly been made for their house, and with the terrible memory of what had happened to the village the last time something of value was spotted inside, the result was he did not feel keeping the holy trinity so close to his chest was a wise move. That left the cave. Kubo marveled at how he usually either made his decisions on the fly, or through the process of elimination, but he didn't dwell on it too much.

It was lucky they had not been stolen yet. No, it was a miracle. Sometimes Kubo felt paranoid about how flimsy his hiding job was. The fact that the artifacts hadn't been swiped was most likely due to how insignificant and secluded the village was. Few travelers made their way through the town, least of all eccentrics on the hunt for legends. With his father's disappearance and later passing, Kubo was fairly sure that his heirlooms were barely that now— a legend.

What was he to do with these now? He had no deadly extended family he needed protection from, no desire to become a warrior everyone would be after, and he certainly wasn't a hoarder. To keep such treasures and never use them was a waste, but to actually use them was "asking for trouble," as Monkey— no, Mother— would say. All that was left was to discard them somewhere.

It was this thought process that led to Kubo to filling up his traveling pack the very next morning. Luck ran out eventually, after all. The treasures might have remained secure in the village for this long, and the helmet itself even longer, but who was to say that it would not be found in one fell swoop someday? What if a rumor went around the entire land that they were somewhere in the defenseless town? So off Kubo would go with the plan to remain inconspicuous on his travels. He had no companions for this journey to bail him out, and frankly his trust in others had diminished since he was a child.

That didn't stop his kind neighbors from volunteering as he was making his rounds to say goodbye and leave with some form of explanation.

"Why don't you let me come with you? I have the strength of a thousand men!" Exaggerated the village taiko drummer. Kubo laughed politely, and held up his hand in order to pacify the eager man.

"No, it's fine, ojii-san. You have a wife who will miss you," he reminded.

"Then let me come!" A village girl roughly eight years his junior piped up. "I can help get you free food!"

"You're reaching the age to marry, I doubt your parents would be happy with you if you went traveling with me," Kubo gently admonished, a bit of sweat gathering on his forehead.

"Well, I might not be able to travel with you," the old beggar woman said with a small smile, "but at least don't leave without something to eat."

"It's okay, obaa-san. I packed plenty," Kubo reassured, patting her shoulder.

"Are you sure you don't want to take anyone with you?" The old puppeteer fretted.

"I'm sure. It's better this way," the soon-to-be traveler insisted.

"Why are you leaving, anyway?" One of the village women questioned. " It's not because of your grandfather's passing, is it?"

"No," Kubo responded, "I have something I need to do. It'll be a long journey, but I promise to come back as soon as I can. Could you tell anyone who comes here looking for me that?"

As he passed person after person, he felt his heart swell and grow warm. Tears and smiles were all he saw while he made his way to the shinto shrine gates. Well-wishes and fond farewells followed him and echoed in his ears. He did his best to ingrain it all into his memory. He felt that if he should ever lose his way, knowing he had such a place to protect and go back to would set him back on track. Often times an adult needs to re-learn lessons. Even ones so important one would think they would never forget.

He blew each of his handmade lanterns open, and set them on the boulder he used every festival and every prayer. He knelt down, holding a third lantern on his lap. The young man pondered for just a second before he placed the new lantern before the first two. Then he pressed his hands together and closed his one eye.

"Mother, Father... Grandfather. I hope you're all getting along. Please, don't be fighting..." He paused, peeking to see if the lanterns had all lit up yet. No, more than that was needed apparently. "I don't think you three would fight, I just don't know how this... afterlife and reincarnation thing really works... A-anyway, that's not why I'm calling to you right now. Father, I... I want to put the sword, helmet, and breastplate back. Or at least scatter them again. I know you worked— we worked so hard to get them. And I could use them. I could, but I just... don't want to. What were you even looking for them for, anyway? What made you seek them out? Who owned them before us? Why were they hidden in the first place? By who? Why was the village chosen to hide the helmet...?" Ah, there was one lit up. He didn't talk to his parents one by one usually, but Kubo found it hard to pray to all three at once. He cleared his throat.

"Don't worry Mother, I'll be careful. I'm not a child anymore, and I've learned control. Or at least as much as I can control myself. Which is a lot! I just... I don't exactly have a clear example of what I can and can't do... I am taking my shamisen though, just in case. I don't want to use the sword too much, but I know not to go crazy with the magic. Maybe I should find a regular katana..." Two down, one more to go. Kubo was honestly nervous about his grandfather. He had so many questions, and he was unsure about basically everything. But there was only one way to be sure.

"Hello, Grandfather... are you happy? Are you... there? Safe? Do you... remember more now? Are you human... or god? Are my aunts there? have you been able to talk to Mother and Father? Really talk, and listen to them?" Kubo sighed, no response yet. "I honestly hope you're human still... everyone misses you, you know. I do too. Honestly, I don't really know what to do without you... there's still... a haze over my mind, although it's clearing bit by bit. With Mother and Father, there wasn't any time to feel their loss... but now, I have all the time in the world. I... I wonder when I'll join you? It might even be soon. What I'm setting off to do is going to be dangerous after all. There are high risks." Kubo looked up for the fifth time, and he was blessed with three smiling but worried faces. His grandfather wasn't wearing the high-born robes he had been clad in as the Moon King, and that brought a rush of relief to Kubo. He returned their smiles, and he felt tears burn his eye.

"But I'm not going on this journey to join you. The village will be waiting for me to return, after all. I don't want to make them sad, and I'll miss my home too much. I hope—" he felt himself choke up, so he gulped down the pain in his chest, "I hope I can make you proud." He bowed to the spirits of his family and wiped his eye.

"I've said the last of my farewells... it's time to send you off." With a grin Kubo balanced the lanterns on his hands, and carried them together to the river where he set them adrift. He watched as the golden herons flew down the river, taking his family with them. He tried not to feel too alone when he felt the hands on his shoulders lift off.

Kubo, the son of a goddess who learned of humanity and a human warrior, shook off his tears, and turned away from the water's shore, ready to begin his second quest.

"Let's go then."

AN: A warm welcome to new readers, and a grateful "welcome back" to the returnees. I want to give a short reassurance that my ongoing story, "Lightning," is not abandoned.

At the time this chapter was written, a family friend passed away suddenly. I make note of this because the death had an odd impact on me. I had been struggling to write for over two years before this, yet this chapter was written over the course of three days.

The night of the family friend— let's call him "G"— I had just finished watching Kubo and the Two Strings. My parents had gone to the hospital to visit him since they had received news from his wife that he had gone into cardiac arrest. I had remained at home. I felt like writing a bit after the movie, so I had dug out one of my collection of journals, but was interrupted by a call. It was my mother telling me that they were headed home, and that G had passed away at the hospital. (I apologize for my repetitive wording, but any other phrase besides "passing" seems too crude at the moment.)

I'm not the religious sort at all, but I am agnostic and raised Protestant. So after I had finished preparing a few things for my parents' return, I was driven to pray. The prayer itself is inconsequential. After I was finished, I was struck by the idea for this fanfiction.

And in the past few days as I write this note, I have written more freely than I have since 2012. This author's not is long, but I wanted to immortalize this time in my life. I don't know what the future holds for me, just like Kubo. But there are few things in this world that I love more than writing, even after all this time that I've struggled with it. I sincerely hope that this marks a hurdle jumped for me.

With that wish, I close this chapter. Wish me luck, and may anyone who reads this look to their own journey with the same hope and optimism that Kubo now faces his with.

Signed,

Benevolence Black