Chapter 15: Converging Paths
Once Wolf had finished bestowing Kiyoshi with his shinobi name, the young man retreated to his room, both to gather himself and to prepare for his journey. After taking a handful of minutes to center himself (and perhaps a dozen more to fill a satchel with essentials), he emerged from his room, ready to take on the world. Or rather, almost ready. One single thing remained before he could depart.
He had to say goodbye to the people who had become his family.
Of the three members of the household, Kiyoshi had by far spent the least time with Yushiro. This was not out of any enmity towards or dislike of the man, but was rather an unintended side effect of how single-mindedly Kiyoshi had thrown himself into training.
Even so, the two were hardly strangers, as Yushiro had, on occasion, assisted with Kiyoshi's training: both martial and medical. More than that, though, Yushiro had brought him books from time to time; not medical texts or shinobi scrolls, but literature. From works about the modern world to fantastical depictions of gods and demons (some of which were all too true), all of them were interesting, and all of them had been read until their covers were ragged.
Yushiro was at the back of the house, in the storeroom, when Kiyoshi found him. Several crates lined the walls, Yushiro's signature paper tags adorning each one of them. From the way Yushiro's demonic Chi enveloped them, Kiyoshi suspected that they were enchanted to make the crates lighter and easier to transport.
After all, once Kiyoshi departed for the Final Selection, Miss Tamayo, Yushiro, and Wolf would all be leaving. His former teacher would apparently be resuming his search for the shinobi who had attacked their household, while the other two would be moving to a new, more secure location near Asakusa in Tokyo.
As Kiyoshi entered the storeroom, Yushiro turned to regard him. "Oh, you're still here?" Yushiro asked, an eyebrow raised. "I would have thought you'd be eager to get on the road."
Kiyoshi shook his head slightly. "I can't leave without saying goodbye to my family, can I?"
A poleaxed expression crossed Yushiro's face as his mouth dropped open. "I, but, what?"
With a small smile, Kiyoshi put his hands, flesh and prosthetic alike, on Yushiro's shoulders. "You, Wolf, Miss Tamayo? You've all done so much for me. To me, you're family."
Still stunned, Yushiro nonetheless reddened with embarrassment. He looked off to the side, then replied, so quiet Kiyoshi could barely hear him. "You...You're important to me, too."
Then, his head snapped around, and he sternly declared, "And you're important to Lady Tamayo, as well! So you'd better not get complacent and get yourself hurt, you hear? It'd break her heart if you died."
Left unsaid but understood was the fact that such a thing would affect Yushiro just as poorly, even if the man was too proud to admit it.
Kiyoshi removed his hands from Yushiro's shoulders, only to clasp forearms with him. "I promise, Yushiro."
Yushiro looked him in the eyes, and whatever he found there seemed to satisfy him. He clapped Kiyoshi on the shoulder and shooed him out of the storeroom with a poorly-hidden, wistful smile.
From the storehouse, Kiyoshi proceeded to Miss Tamayo's study. When he entered the room, he saw that she was seated at a desk, a worn nub of charcoal pinched between two fingers as she wrote. While Miss Tamayo used a calligraphy brush for most things, she had a habit of using a bit of charcoal for notes and addenda, particularly when she felt the need to hide the contents of the notes behind the double cypher of actual coded writing and being written in archaic Latin.
Miss Tamayo gave no outward indication that she noticed Kiyoshi enter, continuing to pour over her notes with absolute focus, but he knew she had. Nobody could enter or exit Miss Tamayo's study without her knowledge, not even Wolf.
Kiyoshi patiently waited for Miss Tamayo to finish writing, leaning quietly against the wall. Mercifully, it was a short wait, as after only a few minutes she set down the charcoal and turned to him.
"It's time already, is it?" she asked rhetorically, rising from her chair and walking over to Kiyoshi. He nodded, and Miss Tamayo smiled melancholically. "I know you will excel, Kiyoshi." Her smile turned faintly mischievous. "Why, one day you might even surpass me."
Kiyoshi chuckled. "I know I've got big shoes to fill, but I won't give up."
Miss Tamayo's smile widened. "I would expect nothing less."
With a deep breath, Kiyoshi looked Miss Tamayo in the eyes, his expression serious. "Miss Tamayo. Since you took me in four years ago, you have done so much. So much more than anyone could ask. So much more than any other doctor would. You have taught me, cared for me, and given me a home."
Tears glinted in the corners of his eyes. "My mother is dead, and nothing I can do can bring her back. And I would never want to replace her. She wasn't perfect, but she loved me and that was enough. But…"
Kiyoshi reached out a trembling hand, which Tamayo took, her face twisted by emotions all too similar to the ones he himself was experiencing. "But after everything you've done, I can't think of any of you as anything but family...if you'll have me, that is."
Tamayo let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and pulled Kiyoshi into an embrace. "Of course I will, you silly boy. You may not be mine by blood, but you mean as much to me as any of, of—" She cut herself off. The grief of past loss was ever-present in both of them, but here and now there was cause for happiness, even if it preceded a parting.
The grief of yesterday would keep, they both decided. Let the only tears shed here be ones of happiness.
After what felt like an eternity, the two parted, and Kiyoshi smiled, eyes still glistening. "I must be off, Miss Tamayo. But don't think I won't visit you in Asakusa, or wherever else you might wind up." He tapped the side of his face, right beside his eye. "Yushiro's Blindfold is good, but he hasn't figured out how to make it hide itself yet. I'll be able to find you."
Miss Tamayo let out a short chuckle. "I am sure you will, dear Kiyoshi. When you put your mind to something, it gets done." She gave his arm a pat. "Put the Ashina arts to good use now, you hear?"
"Of course," he replied with a nod, then turned to leave. Before he closed the door behind him, he called over his shoulder, "I'm off!"
"Have a safe trip," Miss Tamayo replied with a nostalgic smile.
The third and final member of Kiyoshi's strange little family was seated on the front porch of the house. Wolf was, unsurprisingly, carving a Buddha statue, as he tended to do during times of rest. Beside him sat a lacquered wooden box with a leather strap attached to it. Wolf had acquired it from a trader; apparently it was made of a particularly durable and lightweight wood.
This, of course, made it perfect for transporting the spare prosthetic tools while they were not attached to the Shinobi Fang. The Fang was a marvel of science and alchemic mysteries, but even it had limits: it could only have three attachments installed on it at one time.
As Kiyoshi approached, Wolf set aside the knife and the chunk of carved wood, took hold of the leather strap, and rose. As the two shinobi locked eyes, no words passed between them. None needed to; their Chi told everything the other needed to know. It was an incredibly rare, impossibly deep sort of bond, born of the hard years of training, proximity, and meditation, and even though they were Master and Disciple no more, that tie remained.
Indeed, now that Kiyoshi was a fully-fledged shinobi in his own right, the bond was stronger than ever.
The moment passed all too quickly, and Wolf gave a solemn nod. Wordlessly, he passed the box over to Kiyoshi, then helped him don his cloak and mask, and with them, his new face. His new identity.
Without a backwards glance, Fox set out on his journey to Mt. Fujikasane. As he walked away, the wind carried a whisper to his ears, so light that it could have been his imagination.
"I am proud of you."
No words had needed to be said, and yet they had been freely given anyway. That held meaning, Fox thought.
…
He wasn't crying! He'd just gotten dust in his eye, was all.
-x-x-x-x-x-
A few miles north, another farewell was occuring. It was altogether less tearful than the one that Kiyoshi had just gone through, but that did nothing to rob it of meaning.
Kaigaku stood on the dirt path that stretched from his Master's home into the forest, Nichirin blade sheathed at his back and a pouch of rations tied to his hip. As Master Kuwajima looked on from the porch, Kaigaku's severe eyes regarded Zenitsu. Regarded the junior disciple he'd dismissed as worthless, once upon a time.
Kaigaku was a proud young man, but even he could admit when he was proven wrong. Zenitsu might still only be capable of the Breath of Thunder's first form, but the speed with which he could already execute it gave even Kaigaku pause during their spars.
Add to that the golden-haired boy's rapid progress with his so-called 'Wild Thunder' abilities, and Kaigaku had found himself being pressed to improve by not one rival, but two.
Now, Kaigaku would be the first to admit that he didn't like people very much, and he didn't hide it. If there was one type of person he could say that he wholeheartedly appreciated, however, it was people who could make him stronger. Teachers, rivals, or even foes; those who pushed him to that next level would always have his thanks, even if he rarely expressed that gratitude.
After all, might was the only sure thing in this world, the only thing that would stand between himself and the evils that lurked in the dark. He learned the hard way at a young age that guile and cleverness, while useful, would only take you so far.
'And even when being clever does work…' Kaigaku gave a small, bitter smile, before shoving his guilt to the back of his mind. No amount of beating himself up would change what he'd done that night; Master Kuwajima had made that abundantly clear when Kaigaku had told him the truth.
"What you did that night was wrong; I will not lie to you and tell you otherwise. Out of fear and helplessness, you bought your own life at the cost of the lives of others. However. That single moment of weakness as a child need not define the rest of that life. Rather than allowing that moment to weigh you down and keep you from moving forward, instead use that mistake as a lesson, a reason to keep moving forward. Use it to make sure you never have to be in that position ever again.
"It will not bring back the lives lost, but if, in pursuing that goal, you save lives that would otherwise be lost, you might begin to balance your karma once more."
And so Kaigaku had trained until his hands had gone raw with blisters, until his legs felt like they were liquid, until his lungs felt like they would burst. Any amount of work, any measure of pain, he would endure it for the sake of never being helpless again.
And so here he was, about to embark on the next stage of his journey, the next steps on the path to power. As he stared down his junior disciple, he felt led to do something rather out of character for him. Perhaps it was due to the influence of Kaigaku's other rival, perhaps it was because he wasn't quite as much of an uncaring bastard as he appeared; who could say?
Regardless, the fact of the matter was that Kaigaku reached out to Zenitsu, not in violence as he had so many times in the past, but this time in something that vaguely resembled fondness. His hand descended on golden locks and ruffled them awkwardly.
"Don't get lazy, brat," Kaigaku remarked gruffly. "Do Master proud; got it?"
Zenitsu nodded eagerly, an almost imperceptible smile on his face. Kaigaku gave a firm nod of his own, then turned to Master Kuwajima and bowed deeply. He turned to leave, paused, and called over his shoulder as though in afterthought, "I wonder if you can catch up to me?"
He didn't turn to look, but he could practically feel the fire in Zenitsu's gaze scorching at his back as he walked away.
'Good.'
-x-x-x-x-x-
It took the better part of two days for Fox to reach Mt. Fujikasane, even with the mobility advantages afforded by the Fang's grapnel and the speed of his Breath style. Thankfully, he'd managed to find people willing to house him for the night in exchange for a bit of coin. (Wolf had thoughtfully placed a decently sized pouch of money in the box that also housed the Fang's spare attachments).
By the time Fox actually arrived at the foot of the mountain, the sun was beginning to sink behind the horizon, illuminating the brilliant bluish-purple of the countless wisteria plants that covered much of the mountain. Seeing so much of the flower that was anathema to demons gathered in one place gave him some ideas about just what Final Selection might entail.
As he climbed the stairs that led to the testing area, Fox made sure his Nichirin blade was clear in its scabbard, double-checked the clasps on his half-cape to make sure they weren't caught or jammed, and flicked through each of the three attachments he'd chosen for the test in rapid succession.
By the time he reached the top, his gear check was complete, and as such he could devote the whole of his attention to the people who were gathered. There were perhaps thirty or thirty-five prospective swordsmen present, two of whom he recognized.
First, of course standing apart from the group, was Kaigaku. The two met eyes, Kaigaku's own widening at Fox's appearance before the other young man shook his head with a bemused half-smile.
The second person he recognized was the quiet, kind-eyed girl from Miss Kanae's funeral. At that time, she'd only spoken to introduce herself as Makomo. She looked much the same as she had that day (if a bit taller), save for one addition to her wardrobe: a smiling fox mask with blue flowers printed on the edge hung on the left side of her head.
Fox found it distantly amusing that her mask was more distinctly vulpine than his own, despite his designation.
Aside from those two, nobody in particular stood out very much, and when he opened his inner eye, it was much the same. That wasn't to say that there was nobody here that was strong other than the three of them, of course. It was just that...if the three of them were bonfires, the rest of the applicants ranged from candles at the weakest to campfires at the strongest, with most of their number being torches.
Fox was snapped from his reverie by the appearance of two ornately dressed, white-haired girls. Their facial features would have marked them as members of the Ubuyashiki family even if Fox hadn't memorized the names and faces of every member of his Lord-to-be's family. These were the eldest Ubuyashiki daughters, Hinaki and Nichika.
As they spoke, informing them of the nature of the test and of the purpose of the wisteria flowers, Fox centered himself. This would be the first time he had faced a demon since that day, and he would have to be at his best for these seven days.
As the applicants filed into the forest, Fox began to Breathe. Even as he entered the forest, the stress of keeping his Full Focus Breathing active was already putting a strain on him.
But with a mind of steel and the focus of a shinobi, he endured. This was the test he'd set for himself, after Lady Shinobu had mentioned the technique while talking about the requirements to become a Pillar.
He would achieve Full Focus: Constant during these seven days on the mountain, without fail. If he was to be Lord Ubuyashiki's hidden hand, Fox could settle for no less.
AN: I actually managed to finish this one in a timely manner! Yaaaay.
:V
No, but seriously, I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it. Initially, my intent was to have this chapter go all the way to the end of Final Selection, but the goodbyes took way more than I thought, so I figured that I might as well make that its own chapter.
Oh! One tidbit this chapter: the "I'm off!"/"Have a safe trip." exchange between Tamayo and Kiyoshi is a bit awkward, and might not make sense to people who haven't watched a bunch of anime, but it's the best translation of the call and return of "Ittekimasu"/ "Itterashai" that is a common Japanese farewell when leaving home. It's supposed to indicate an intent to return, to my understanding. Of course, I could be completely wrong about the authenticity of this, so if I am, feel free to call me out and call me a big stinky doodoo head. XV
