"Jorogumo."
The woman paused, cocked her head. Another droplet of saliva fell, and Wolf jerked his head aside - his cheek burned well enough already, and were it not for how dangerous his position was, he would at least be wiping the substance away before it did any more damage. As it was, any such movement would surely result in those wicked fangs sinking into his flesh.
"You know what I am," she mused.
"We come from the same homeland."
The spider demon tilted her head further, bent at an unnatural angle now. "You have yet to answer my question," she replied, sharp teeth clacking as she spoke. All eight of her unsettling eyes turned to Kuro. "Perhaps I should make the boy squeal?"
For a heartbeat, Wolf saw fire; when he blinked, one of the jorogumo's spindly wrists was clenched so tight in his prosthetic hand that it would have surely snapped a human bone. He had not even seen her claws inching in Kuro's direction, but his blood boiled at the nerve of the attempt.
She should lose her head for trying.
"You will not touch him," he ground out, brushing aside the uncharacteristically violent thought to show restraint, and she scoffed and drew closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose.
"Or what, human?"
"Stop!"
It seemed Kuro had found his voice, and despite the low growl of protest that issued from Wolf's throat, he peeked around the shinobi's legs. Holding an arm out to stop him was unnecessary, but Wolf did so anyway - already the young heir was being too gutsy, and the way the spider's eyes followed him had Wolf's hackles rising.
"Soldiers hurt him," Kuro continued, voice small but firm. "We would never do him any harm."
"Does he live?"
"Yes. He is well."
She lingered in place for a long moment before drawing her wrist from Wolf's grasp. He allowed her to go, as her teeth were beginning to shrink back into her mouth, but he did not allow Kuro to draw closer just yet.
"Why must I drag answers from humans?" the spider sighed, and all eight of her eyes rolled. "Speak up, then. If not to kill me, why are you here?"
"Aurelio said you were a tailor," Kuro replied, moving further from Wolf's side, and though it put the shinobi on edge he allowed it - the jorogumo did not appear malicious any longer. He did not relax, however, for a demon could change that in a heartbeat.
"It's hardly a business." She turned back toward the cave and squeezed through the door, her abdomen struggling to fit. It was truly a poor place for a demon of her stature to hole up; Wolf could not imagine the circumstances that led her here. "But you two look disastrous, so I suppose I can throw something together."
"Just like that?" Wolf asked, not hiding his suspicion, but Kuro shot him a scolding glare before bowing to the spider.
"We appreciate it," he thanked her, always too trusting, and followed her inside. Wolf was fast on his heels.
Something scratched in the darkness, and the door swung shut behind them, cutting off what little light there was. Wolf's hand was on Kusabimaru's hilt in a heartbeat as Kuro grabbed the stained end of his haori, blinded where Wolf could still see, but a second later the jorogumo was striking one of her wicked nails off the stone wall to spark a candle alight. The flame illuminated little, but it was enough to lead them down the wide tunnel.
"You have many children," Wolf commented. The massive spiders following them lacked faces like hers, and scuttled silently in the dark, just out of the candlelight's reach. He could easily spot several dozen of them; there were undoubtedly hundreds more further inside.
"C-Children?" Kuro stammered. Wolf cursed himself - of course Kuro could not see them, but Wolf simply had to be confrontational, exposing their existence and frightening his lord in the meantime. The jorogumo tossed her head, strands of her inky black hair blending with the darkness.
"My dearest has given me many," she replied in a low purr, holding out one of her wicked hands. A small black mass descended from the ceiling, undoubtedly younger than the rest of the spiders, and landed in her palm obediently. "They will bring you no harm."
Wolf had been joking when he first implied Aurelio might sleep with her, and now he desperately wished the illusion of the joke remained firmly in place. Imagining him with this beast - no. He shook his head firmly, banishing the thought from his mind.
"My workshop." The jorogumo led them into a small room that branched to the right, and Wolf could see a worktable and spools of thread and rolls of fabric in the dark before she lit an oil lamp, and Kuro got to stare around in wonder at all the colors. "I presume it is your measurements I already have, shinobi?"
Several of her children hung in dark corners of the room, and one skittered close to Kuro's foot, curious; Wolf shooed it away with his own before his master noticed and panicked. The jorogumo was already inspecting her fabrics, glancing between them and Wolf.
"Joro," Kuro piped up, paused, then added, "That is your name, isn't it?"
"It is close enough to one," she said.
Wolf could not help himself from asking, "Does Aurelio know your true name?"
Joro paused, then answered quietly, "He has never wanted to." Then, an edge of impatience working into her tone, she demanded, "Are they the measurements or not?"
"They are," Kuro confirmed hurriedly, and she tutted and turned back to the rack of fabrics. "But we haven't told you what we want."
"Do you think my eyes useless, child?" Joro raised scraps of two simple patterns - one a teal diamond pattern that resembled scales, and the other a simple red pinstripe. "I have eight of them. Give me that haori, human."
She held her hand out pointedly, but Wolf hesitated. It had been his idea to come, yes, but now that he was here, he had not suddenly forgotten his attachment to the clothing. But after a nudge from Kuro he relented, untying his swords from his person and emptying his pockets before letting the haori fall from his shoulders.
It was still stiff with blood, and he could see now how threadbare it was, how a sleeve was torn off, how the ends frayed from the elements. It was far from salvageable, and only clothing, but he mourned it nonetheless. However . . .
"I will not don those ridiculous patterns."
Joro scoffed, all eight of her eyes rolling. "They always think they know better," she grumbled, setting the scraps aside and returning to the rack, her legs clacking noisily on the floor. "Fine, then. Keep that awful orange. Oh, but you, child - " She glanced back to Kuro, holding up the teal diamond pattern once more and peeking at him past it. "Perhaps for you, then."
"For me?" Kuro echoed. "But I - "
" - stick out like a sore thumb," Joro cut him off. "You both do. If you're to keep traveling further inland, it would be best if you did not look like a foreigner at first glance."
"Oh. I suppose not."
There was nothing to do but watch, now, as Joro pulled a meter, then two, of orange fabric from a roll. Wolf could already tell at a glance that it was not the same rough threadwork as his haori, but hopefully it would not be too different.
It was quite strange to watch her work; such a powerful demon was hardly suited for hiding in a cave, and to see her performing such a domestic task was a curious sight indeed. She worked astonishingly quickly, however, pulling charcoal and scissors from a drawer of the worktable and cutting a pattern out in a matter of seconds. She moved onto the pattern for Kuro's new clothes next, and Wolf had to admit it seemed quite fitting for his young Lord.
"How does a spider demon from Japan end up all the way out here?" Kuro asked, and she scoffed.
"Same as you," she replied dryly. "I ran."
A few pins here, another couple there, and she sewed the pieces together quickly with a thread so translucent it was clearly from the spiders - possibly even herself. The question of where the thread in his prosthetic came from was far from a mystery, now. The clothing was thrown their way, and Kuro peeled off his outer layer to try the yukata on.
"Arms out," Joro ordered, then made a strange chittering noise that no human mouth could ever hope to replicate. A handful of spiders came into the light, inching toward Kuro, who tensed at the sight. "You too, boy - and stop worrying, they won't hurt you."
Kuro was the first to obey, swayed by the authoritative tone, and made a high noise in his throat as two crept up the backs of his legs. They made it to the fabric, clawed feet pricking their way up his back, and a giggle forced its way from his mouth. Joro sighed from where she made alterations to Wolf's new haori.
"Keep still!"
"I can't - it tickles!"
Kuro may have been amused, but Wolf furrowed his brow and did his best not to comment on how Joro's children made alterations with their own thread. Just the sight of the likely lethal creatures roaming over his master was more than enough to set him on edge, and even as Kuro's laughs promised he was fine, Wolf did not dare take his eyes off his charge for a second.
"There. How does it feel?"
Wolf had not even been thinking about the fit or fabric, but as the spiders left Kuro be and the child wiped tears from his eyes, Wolf tested his arm mobility. The fabric was lighter, but not silky like he had feared; truly, there was hardly a difference aside from the weight. Perhaps he had been a bit too hasty with his reluctance to change.
"It's so light," Kuro commented, spinning in place. Joro had already returned to her worktable, throwing together something with white fabric. "I only ever had one silk kimono - trade was never great back home."
That was definitely true. Ashina was not known for having good relations with outside nations - any relations, really. Not that it likely mattered anymore.
"Thank you," Kuro continued, bowing low to Joro, and Wolf mimicked the motion. "I suppose we should be going."
"I will see you out."
It was all a tad surreal, following a mature jorogumo through her home to be escorted safely outside after receiving gifts from her, neither her nor her children moving to bring their visitors any harm. Wolf's cheek still burned from her saliva - venom and acid both, if Wolf remembered correctly - and from the hesitant looks Kuro occasionally shot his way, it was not a lovely sight.
He was sure he would have many new scars before the journey was over; this one was hardly worth extra concern.
Outside was not much brighter than inside, the sun's rays struggling to reach the depths of the ravine, but Kuro seemed to relax at the fresh air. "Thank you again," he said, offering another bow. "We'll be parting ways, then."
But Joro was not looking at him, her head raised to the sky. "No," she said slowly. "Something is wrong. Do you feel it?"
The question was directed at Wolf, and when he spared a moment away from suspicion of her, he felt it as well. It was not something he could properly describe; there was trouble on the wind, whispers of danger so delicate they raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Automatically, his hand rested on Kusabimaru's hilt, and felt Kuro's eyes on him as he matched Joro's level stare.
"I do."
"Aurelio."
Kuro's small gasp was enough to spur them into action; Joro started up the mountain, Wolf on her tail, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities. More soldiers, perhaps? But from the sound of things, the capitol was many days' journey away, so the likelihood that another group of soldiers would arrive so soon was practically nonexistent. Yet if news spread of Kuro and Wolf's existence, more men than the emperor would surely pursue them - and any who assisted them.
"Wolf," Kuro spoke up, small and strained, and Wolf glanced back to see him lagging behind. Behind him lingered a sea of huge spiders, chittering and writhing, following at their mother's beck and call. Joro paused as well, irritation edging her tone.
"You're too slow," she hissed. "I cannot wait for dead weight to keep up."
Indignance rose in Wolf's throat at the jibe, but there was no time to bicker if Aurelio truly was in trouble. Instead, he knelt down and glanced over his shoulder. "Up."
"Wolf, are you sure ‐ ?"
"Get on with it," Joro snapped before continuing on her way.
After a moment's hesitation, Kuro clambered onto his back, and though he was growing heavy with age it was nothing Wolf could not handle. The prosthetic was hardy and durable, and Wolf's right arm was in better shape than usual from the work he had been doing for Aurelio. The only task, then, was to keep his balance as he caught up with Joro, and some of her spiders passed him in their anticipation.
There was the sound of arguing as they rose higher and the mist in the air began to clear, and though Wolf's legs burned from the climb he could not stop - one of the voices was Aurelio's, and it was raised in anger and fear past words Wolf could not understand.
Kuro spoke into his ear, confirming Wolf's worries. "They're looking for us - Aurelio's insisting he doesn't know, but - "
Wolf could guess. Aurelio's loyalty would not be in vain - the shinobi would slay these men for daring to threaten him. His blood burned hot down his sword arm at the thought, but he ignored it the best he could.
As they crept over the rise, Aurelio became visible - his back was to the door of the cabin, any view of him heavily obscured by the men surrounding him. There were six of them, and though their armor was more hide than metal it was still well-crafted and defensible. No soldiers, but no mere bandits - their swords hanging at their hips were of too quality make, and two of them bore rifles that were aimed directly at Aurelio. No mere bandit could get ahold of such weaponry, even stolen.
Bounty hunters.
Wolf's plan was to sneak around the house, climb the roof, and take out the riflemen first, but even as he took a step in that direction it seemed Joro had other ideas. Of course massive monsters of myth were not exactly built for stealth, but Joro was not content to wait on him, either; she made her presence known with a low chitter, and as she approached the men turned and yelped and brandished weapons at her.
"What is that?!"
Perhaps Kuro and Aurelio's lessons were rubbing off on Wolf. He allowed Kuro to slide from his back before creeping behind Joro, keeping low and using her huge body to obscure him from view. The spiders crawling up from the valley behind him provided more distraction - enough that Aurelio felt safe to reach for his small gun shoved into his waistband.
Not enough of a distraction to prevent one of the gunmen from noticing.
The slide of the shuriken from its slot to Wolf's fingers was fluid and almost instantaneous, but no matter how quick his reflexes, a shuriken was not faster than a bullet. Before it found itself buried in the man's throat, a crashing bang echoed in the warm air.
Aurelio staggered and his hand came up to his chest before he dropped.
Before Wolf could blink, could even understand, could begin to move, his ears were assaulted by a noise far louder and worse than that of a gunshot, and Joro lurched forward. Snapped out of his shock, Wolf grabbed for Kusabimaru, ready to sprint after her.
"Aurelio!"
Kuro whisked past him, stumbling over his feet as he ran for the inventor's crumpled form, and Wolf changed direction as his master charged headfirst into danger. He raised his blade to deflect a blow aimed by an opportunistic hunter, but the clash never occurred - one of Joro's wicked claws hooked into his armor and tossed him away, the man screaming all the while. Kuro fell to his knees at Aurelio's side a moment later, hands hovering as he tried to figure out what to do.
Wolf skidded to a halt beside them, and felt as though the air was punched out of his chest at the sight. This gunshot wound - under his left breast, certainly tearing straight through his lung - was not one he could recover from. He still lived, but not for much longer, that was certain. Every breath rattled, and every other exhale was a cough accompanied by blood.
But his eyes opened at their presence, and he coughed out in a poor imitation of laughter, "I guess my luck's run out, huh?"
Luck, indeed - first hunted down by fugitives to help them, then hurt for them, and now killed in their name - Wolf rather thought his luck had gone out long before today. But even as Kuro opened his mouth to protest, Aurelio interrupted him.
"Kuro." His voice strained, and he gritted his teeth against a wave of pain before his shoulders untensed again. "My notes. And the new part for Wolf. Everything on my desk - fetch it, quickly."
It took a moment for Kuro to process the request - no, the demand - before he nodded quickly and scrambled for the cabin, slipping inside and disappearing from view. Seconds later, one of the bounty hunters crashed into one of the porch supports, thrown by Joro, now slumped and still against the railing.
"She's here," Aurelio sighed as Joro gave another unnatural screech, and he sighed pleasantly where Wolf cringed. "How is she?"
Wolf glanced over at the fighting; even a creature should worry about a six-to-one fight, but both blade and bullet ricocheted harmlessly off her exoskeleton, and the wounds on her humanoid form seemed not to bother her. She had never needed his help.
"Furious," he replied quietly, "and formidable."
"That's her." Another sigh, turned into a wretched cough. "I'll miss her."
Wolf had no true response to that. He had experienced much death, but even as grief tried to work its way into his heart it could hardly get past the barrier of shock. Shock that this was happening, shock at Aurelio's almost whimsical attitude, and guilt - this never would have happened had they never come here.
"Wolf."
"Yes?"
"Once Kuro has the documents, I need you to burn everything down. All of it."
He could not imagine what sort of secrets Aurelio held that he would see them destroyed - never pushed, their entire time together - but he was not going to start asking now. Aurelio had done much for them for no reward but death, and Wolf would not question this final payment.
" . . . yes."
And then a gut-wrenching scream rang out from the cabin, and in glancing that direction Wolf found the man that had been stunned on the porch was no longer there.
Kuro.
Aurelio was forgotten in a heartbeat. There was no room to feel guilty for the unceremonious way he leapt over the inventor's body, nor embarrassed by how he slipped minutely on the bloodsoaked grass. There was only fire surging under his skin and his heart in his throat, spurring him into action as he vaulted over the collapsed beam on the porch and into the house, honing in on the sound of gasping whimpers. The door was wide open, the furniture askew, and on the end of the blade held by the hunter before him was Kuro.
The sight of steel disappearing into his back past his new yukata and protruding from his stomach was equal parts sickening and incomprehensible, but Kuro's rapid, panicked breaths and choked cry as the hunter tore the blade from his body snapped Wolf from any scattered thoughts trying to form.
Kill him, growled a voice in his head that was not his own.
His hand was around the assailant's neck in an instant, and with a flash of burning fury that tinted Wolf's vision red came a loud snap.
The man's spine was crushed under his hand.
There was no time to dwell. Kuro had slumped to his knees, hands over his stomach, and though Wolf hesitated to touch him after the sudden display of inhuman strength, he had to check for injuries. At the press of a hand on his back, however, Kuro scrambled clumsily away from him.
"Wolf!" he cried out, as though for help; after a moment of his chest heaving for breath and Wolf's hand helplessly hovering between them, he repeated in a small, quaking voice, "Wolf?"
For an instant, Wolf swore he could see the small white dragon's face peering over Kuro's shoulder, lips peeled back in a snarl. He blinked, and it was gone.
"I'm here," Wolf promised gently, and his hands were reflective of his tone as he reached out once more.
The image was pushed to the back of his mind - he would worry about it later, but it would not be forgotten, for he certainly had a bone to pick with a supposed god allowing harm to befall its chosen heir.
There was no blood seeping through the blue pattern of Kuro's new clothing, though the yukata was torn; past the tear, Kuro's skin was still pale and unmarred. Kuro gave him little time to inspect further, a choked sob falling from his lips and tears welling up in his eyes before he was throwing himself at the shinobi. It was a gesture Wolf was growing used to, and as his fear waned in the wake of Kuro's safety, he wrapped his arms securely around the boy and willed his heart to calm. He had hardly noticed it pounding. His hands found the matching tear on Kuro's back and found that it, too, was accompanied by dry, unmarred skin.
Physically, he was unharmed. The dragon's blessing had assured that much. But why had it allowed Kuro to be stabbed in the first place? How?
For a brief moment, pressure weaved its way over his shoulders, as though a thick snake had draped itself around the pair. The emotion accompanying it was convoluted, muddled, a mix of many things, but perhaps the closest word Wolf could find to describe it with was remorse.
"We cannot stay," he found himself saying, and Kuro stiffened in his arms and said nothing. "Can you stand?"
Kuro only curled up tighter. Not even the smallest yes or no fell from his lips. But the dragon's weight slithered off his shoulders, so he shifted to stand; though Kuro made a high, panicked noise of protest and clung tighter to Wolf's haori, he settled when the shinobi merely scooped him into his arms. Aurelio's desk was still untouched, and Wolf approached, scanning the leaflets and journals and parts for what Aurelio had meant for them to take. None of it made sense to him - his young Lord had always been the one speaking to Aurelio about the details as they studied.
"Kuro," he tried, and the soft tone managed to coax Kuro out of hiding enough to reveal one wary eye. "What did you come to get?"
Still he refused to speak, and for a moment frustration welled up in Wolf's throat - how was he meant to figure this out alone? But Kuro shifted, slowly unfurling one of his hands from Wolf's haori to reach for the desk. Obediently, Wolf lowered him enough to reach, and Kuro grabbed something metal similar to Aurelio's firearm and a small notebook, both of which were stuffed in his sleeves before he returned to hiding from the world.
Gingerly as he could, Wolf switched most of the weight to his right arm, deftly uncovering the flamethrower from his prosthetic. The books on the wall above his desk were easy kindling. Sad though it was to watch all that knowledge burn to ashes, he turned away from the growing flames and stepped over the broken door to emerge outside.
There was a bloodbath awaiting them, so much staining the grass Wolf could scarcely believe it could possibly all have come from the men Joro had slaughtered. But it was only their bodies that lay about the field, unnaturally broken and still, spiders swarming their corpses, and though Joro bore superficial wounds on her human-like flesh she remained mostly unharmed. There were, however, splashes of yellow-green amongst the red - the hunters were not the only casualties.
The same could not be said about the only body not being scavenged for food - the one that lay before her, just as still, but with his hands placed serenely over his chest and her forehead pressed to his. And then she tilted her head back and let out a mournful cry - every bit as inhuman and eerie as her previous sounds, but with a solemn beauty akin to a siren's song. The noise roused Kuro from his stillness, and he peered over his shoulder, and Wolf watched the tears well up again at the sight.
Then Joro turned to face them, and on instinct, Wolf's arms tightened around Kuro. Fury still burned behind all of her eyes, legs twitching as though still itching to skewer a corpse on one or two or four. But though she bared her teeth in a scowl, she averted her gaze a moment later, delicately resting her hands over Aurelio's.
"Do you think me a fool?" she asked, voice so soft, so gentle that for a moment Wolf suspected she might be using some sort of compulsion, but he felt no urge to move. "That I would blindly seek revenge through you?"
"You grieve," Wolf replied carefully, "and in grief . . . "
Joro scoffed, some of the familiar scorn seeping into her voice. "He did so much for you. As though I would tarnish his hard work." She shook her head, and her inky black hair spilled forward over her shoulders; it revealed an arrow lodged in her back that Wolf had not previously noticed, though it did not seem to be bothering her. "You did not cause this. The greed of man did, and they will pay - in time."
Wolf had no doubt she meant it.
"What now?" Kuro finally spoke up, and Joro's thumb swiped lovingly over Aurelio's undoubtedly cold knuckles.
"Now," she said, "I eat. I mourn. And when the time comes, I will kill many more."
"Y-You'll . . . " Kuro's voice faltered, the distress in his tone poorly hidden. "You're going to eat him?"
"Better than some other scavenger coming across him," Wolf murmured, and though Kuro's face twisted up in understandable revulsion, Joro nodded, perhaps in thanks at his understanding. Truthfully, Wolf was just as sickened by the idea, and hoped she would wait until they left to begin. He began to trek past her, Kuro curling back up against his chest.
"Hold it."
Wolf obeyed, just for a split second, halting before his brain had even processed the words. The compulsion was strong - one he could fight off, but not easily. He turned to her, brows furrowed in suspicion, and found she was holding a small cloth bag similar to a coin purse out to him. His arms full, Joro dropped it into Kuro's hands instead.
"I cannot offer you any more aid at the moment. I have already lost many of my children here. But should you need it . . . "
Curiosity ate at him, but he merely bowed the best he could with Kuro in his arms and continued on his way.
He walked with Kuro still tucked protectively against him until the grass became green again, until he no longer had to pretend not to hear the sickening crunches behind him, until the boy in his arms fell asleep, until the sun began to set. Until his eyes and legs and arms burned, and he could no longer ignore the grief worming through the thick armor of determination around his heart.
And if he felt the weight of the dragon around him once more, the company was certainly not unwelcome.