The massive torii loomed over them. The sun sat high in the sky, and the shadows it cast were dark as night. A chill traveled from Kuro's head all the way to his toes when they passed under it.
"What's the plan?" The world around them was silent, and Kuro was desperate to fill it. Qiūjì, who had been coiling more tightly around his shoulders with each step closer to the sea, twitched at the question.
The water holds most of my power. Water was such a loose word for it - as they drew ever closer, Kuro found it looked rather like black sludge. If I can reach it, I should be able to reclaim that power and undo the damage Xiangliu has done.
"And you're sure we can kill him?"
He can die. Of that there is no question. Were I at my full power . . .
The dragon trailed off, coiling tighter around himself, and Kuro reached up to stroke reassuringly at his mane. "We'll take care of it," he promised. "We've gotten this far - nothing can stop us now!"
His optimism was met with uncertain quiet, and to be honest, Kuro was not nearly as naive as to believe in his own words. Plenty could stop them - Qiūjì's magic was so weak now, to the point they could almost be considered mortal. If they died, it was over. Not just for them, but for Qiūjì, for China itself, as the country would continue to live in summer until it could no longer sustain itself.
Things were bleak - but Kuro was determined. They would win. They had to.
"I will take care of it," Wolf said, and Kuro's stomach sank.
"Wolf . . . " Exasperation leeched into his tone. "You're not alone in this, you know."
How many times would he have to drive this point home? He could hold his own. He could help.
"I know," Wolf replied easily, surprising him. The look he directed Kuro's way was equal parts fond and concerned, and the grip around Kuro's hand squeezed briefly. "I wish to keep it that way."
. . . well. He supposed that part of Wolf would never change; no matter how capable Kuro grew, no matter how much help he could be, the shinobi would always fight to keep him safe. Wolf had so little, after all, he knew - protecting what little mattered to him was an admirable goal, even if he was overbearing at times.
"Okay," Kuro relented, squeezing back, and the ghost of a smile on Wolf's lips was worth it. He would do his best to keep out of harm's way. He may have learned a bit of combat, but there was still so much more yet to figure out - no need to make things harder on Wolf.
The path did not stray, bringing them directly to a cliff at the edge of the sea. There was no life within sight from here. The only thing before them was the murky water, placid and unmoving, and all around them lay nothing but the dead remains left behind by spreading poison. Qiūjì's talons dug at his shoulder, hard enough to prick but not draw blood, and Kuro reluctantly pulled his hand from Wolf's to ready his bow.
Where was this Xiangliu? The sea was vast, stretching on further than the eye could see - perhaps he resided elsewhere?
And then the ground began to rumble, and Wolf threw his arm in front of Kuro to prevent him from falling forward into the lethal waters - and with an explosive splash, a great serpentine figure burst forth from the water. It splashed up against the cliff, and Wolf shoved Kuro back, throwing up an arm to shield his face as he was hit with several droplets of it.
The fabric of his haori and metal of his arm guard sizzled and smoked slightly, but vicious though the water was, there was not enough of it to burn through to his skin. Both of their gazes rose to the creature responsible, and -
Kuro froze. He had expected something large, but this - this creature was massive. He had to crane his neck to see its head, and - oh. Atop the great, coiling snakelike body, there were nine writhing necks, and attached to them nine giant, remarkably human faces. There were no arms or legs that Kuro could see on its long body, but when it opened its many mouths there were rows and rows of wicked teeth.
"Visitors," the many heads said, a horrible amalgamation of several garbled tones. Forked tongues flickered from them, an unnatural dark purple. "I was just getting hungry."
Kuro did not fight against the hand pushing him back, all the fight leaving his body in place of fear. This . . . nothing could have prepared him for the horror of this unholy creature, its scales a sickly green, its body dripping with the same toxic sludge it had made of the sea.
The Mortal Blade thrummed with power as Wolf drew it. The blade itself was lovely, but the red mist that rolled from it set Kuro's nerves alight. Danger, they screamed, and he backed even further away at the thought.
Xiangliu did not have the same reservations. He dove for them in a heartbeat, so fast Kuro could not withhold a startled shout. All he could do was dive out of the way, but Wolf rose the Mortal Blade high and, as the demon swept over them, dug its point between the murky scales. It cut deep and long, Xiangliu taking many seconds to realize what had happened, and with an enraged squeal he withdrew and backed off.
The heads regarded the blade with interest, but to Kuro's chagrin, all eighteen eyes turned to him a moment later. They swiveled this way and that, observing him evident curiosity, before the mouths all split into abhorrent grins that made him feel sick.
"The dragon's emissary," they said, and began to laugh. It was an awful noise, one that grated on Kuro's ears and made his very bones ache. "And the King himself! You'll make a fine meal!"
The threat spurred him into action, and Kuro quickly nocked an arrow to fire - its aim was true, lodging itself in one of the many eyes as the monster was too busy cackling to dodge. The laughter melted into a horrible screech, and Wolf took advantage of the distraction, his grappling hook shooting out to latch into the cut made prior.
Its length was almost not enough to reach, but the hook held fast, and Wolf shot off the cliff toward the beast. Kuro watched him brace his feet for impact, and without arms, Xiangliu could not stop Wolf scaling his body with the aid of the Mortal Blade and his grapple. Determinedly, Kuro nocked another arrow and let it fly.
It embedded in one of the many throats, and though it was too small in comparison to the demon to go particularly deep, it enraged Xiangliu all the same. It lunged for Kuro, the jaws of the frontmost mouths unhinging like its serpentine motif, and Kuro braced for impact.
But Wolf had reached one of the necks, and with a great effort he plunged his blade straight through the flesh.
Xiangliu writhed, shrieking in fury and agony, and Wolf wrenched with all his might to drag the Mortal Blade further along the flesh. The neck grew limp as the muscle of it was severed and, with a final pull, it fell - and Wolf with it, the grappling hook shooting for the cliff before he could fall into the water.
The beast continued to scream and writhe and coil around itself - and then its tail shot out of the water and wrapped around Kuro's middle before he could even see it coming, darting for him from his blind side.
"Kuro!"
His bow fell from his grasp, dropping into the death below and fizzling as it sank, and Kuro was raised high into the air and dangled over the sea. Futilely he struggled, slamming his fists on the hard scales and kicking his feet, but all he managed to do was lose a sandal to the waters.
Wolf!
Qiūjì's shout tore his attention from escaping, and he turned his head to find Wolf soaring toward the tail, blade drawn and ready to free him -
One of Xiangliu's heads shot toward him, mouth splitting wide open and catching the shinobi between its wicked teeth. The horrified scream that escaped Kuro at the sight was uncontrollable, and he reached out uselessly as the head thrashed violently.
Wolf was shaken about like a ragdoll, but in an admirable display of control he managed to dig his blade into the grotesque tongue of the head, and it automatically dropped him as it opened its mouth to cry its outrage. The shinobi plummeted, and before he could gain control of his descent another head took hold of him; this one, however, threw him back onto the cliff, where he hit the ground hard.
Wolf did not move for a long moment, and anxiety welled up in Kuro's chest and throat, tears stinging at his eyes - but eventually, the distant figure began to push himself onto all fours, though the blood staining the grass was unmistakable even at this distance. The shinobi staggered to his feet, leaning heavily on his blade, and Xiangliu hovered just out of reach, both trying to assess who would strike first.
Kuro! Get me to the water!
Qiūjì's command snapped Kuro into looking away, and he glanced down to the lethal abyss below.
I never even learned how to swim, he thought deliriously.
The katana Wolf had bought him was still at his back, although he had not touched it in a long while. Xiangliu's grip made it difficult to twist his arm to reach it, and then to wrench it out of the sheath, but Kuro managed with some difficulty. Perhaps he had no use for swordplay, but raising the blade high above his head and plunging it deep into the muscled appendage that held him did not require impeccable eyesight.
The tail seized around him, loosening for just a second, but then its grip tightened so hard a horrific snap rent the air, accompanied by a pitiful scream that Kuro did not realize was his own until he registered how his throat burned at the effort. Pain exploded in his chest, increasing with every fragile breath inward, and Qiūjì's claws tightened fretfully at his shirt as every exhale came out as a whine.
"You want to reach the water?" Xiangliu spat, tail coiling even tighter and earning a pathetic whimper. "Then drown in it!"
No - was it possible? Did Xiangliu not know?
There was no room to wonder further as Kuro plummeted, plunging into the icy depths with the tail still wrapped around him.
The water was awful and thick, and Kuro hadn't the chance to close his eyes as he was pushed deeper and deeper to the muddy bottom. Already his lungs burned with the effort of holding his breath, and panic rose in his throat as the appendage squeezed harder, trying to force the air out of him. His skin and eye burned as the water forced past the dragon's blessing, trying to eat away at him.
His nails scrabbled uselessly at scales. His eyelids began to flutter, the panic overwhelming. He couldn't escape. If he could just breathe in -
The impulse overtook him, and he took in a lungful of water - and immediately began to choke. But there was no air, no way to expel this toxin from his body, and his limbs began to grow weak in their struggles. His hands slowed in their efforts to pry himself free, and his eyelids drooped, the panic melting away with everything else. The acid burned at his throat and lungs but he had no energy to protest it.
As his eyes slid fully closed, he could have sworn something golden began to glow in the murky depths - but then there was nothing at all.
Kuro.
Kuro was . . .
Wolf could only stare. Could only watch the still surface of the water, his heartstrings twisting themselves into knots, and pray to - to something that a familiar bob of black hair would resurface any second now.
His veins burned, the sting of venom coursing through them even worse than the dull ache of the puncture wounds stretched across his torso. He was past the point of standing, now, any command over his limbs becoming pathetically flimsy. It felt like his flesh was being eaten away from the inside - perhaps it was - yet all concern for himself flew out the window the moment Kuro went under.
He waited. He counted. He . . .
He could not have . . .
"Kuro - "
The name spilled unbidden from his lips, throat tight and voice thick, and his eyes burned at the thought he could not bear to finish. Xiangliu turned its heads - minus one - toward Wolf, a self-satisfied grin stretched across every one of them. It hissed something out through those wicked fangs, but Wolf could not understand. He would not have cared even if he did.
Well, said a voice with astonishing clarity past the muddled thoughts in his head, isn't that a shame?
Even deeper than the burn in his veins was the fire surging in his muscles. It was familiar - almost welcoming. He fought it nonetheless.
"No," he said aloud, through gritted teeth. "I will kill him myself."
Let us kill him together, purred the voice.
What was the point in denying its wish any longer? Kuro was . . . gone. And Qiūjì had gone down with him. What was left for Wolf outside of that? Outside of vengeance?
He hadn't the will to say no this time.
The flames burned hotter, surged brighter, overtaking the agony of his wounds but failing to smother the ache in his heart. Wolf could feel them licking at his skin, escaping his flesh where it had been torn open. The demon within rumbled with pleasure, but Wolf hardly noticed - hardly cared.
The Mortal Blade fit differently in his hand when he yearned to kill rather than protect.
Xiangliu's eyes narrowed, then widened as the shinobi rose to his feet. It seemed a demon was not stopped by a failing body - with Shura's power coursing through him, he found little struggle in standing straight and pulling his katana from the ground. Slowly, he approached the edge of the cliff, no urgency in his movements.
Sure, he could dash straight for Xiangliu's heart - but why rush? Better to prolong it. Make him suffer for what he's done.
Wolf raised his prosthetic arm, ready to fire, and shot a lingering glance back down at the water -
It was glowing.
Wolf paused. Blinked. Shura protested impatiently within; he ignored it. Xiangliu was just as shocked by the sight, faces twisting into horror, then rage, and he recoiled as though trying to escape something rapidly approaching -
A white blur shot out from the waters, and the liquid that splashed back at Wolf was golden and shimmered and did not burn his skin away. Xiangliu gave an outraged screech, but it was smothered by an even more furious howl, one that shook the ground, and the sky responded with a rumble of thunder as murky gray clouds developed overhead in the blink of an eye.
Even Shura had gone silent, but in fear that battled with the awe Wolf found as he stared up at the dragon he had traveled this entire time with. Qiūjì had been massive the first time Wolf saw him, but this . . . this was him in his full glory. He was colossal, towering over Xiangliu, his branching horns arcing high in the sky, and when he opened his jaw lightning crackled among his teeth.
Xiangliu raised his heads, bared his teeth, lunged - and Qiūjì caught him by the throats with his teeth, not even involving his clawed limbs, one of which was clenched into a tight fist. The dragon flung Xiangliu into the air, catching the serpent by the heads on his descent, and before Wolf's very eyes began to swallow him whole.
Now that's a formidable opponent, Shura spoke up, a lust for blood seeping into its tone.
"No," Wolf instantly protested, but despite his attempt to dig his heels in, Shura moved his body regardless with no effort at all.
The demon carried him to the cliff's edge, Mortal Blade raised and grappling hook ready. Qiūjì turned to him, mouth drawn in a snarl, and two of his wicked hands reached out for the demon facing him.
I am sorry for this, Wolf.
Shura plunged the Mortal Blade into one of the appendages, but Qiūjì did not even flinch. His hands were so big they smothered Wolf when they wrapped around him, squeezing so tightly he could not breathe, as though Qiūjì were trying to force the life from him -
The fight left his limbs quickly as Shura faded away, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he succumbed to the oncoming darkness.
.
. .
. . . and then he awoke gasping and coughing for breath, the sickly sweet of sakura a familiar burn in his throat and nose, and Wolf grasped at his throat as a few petals fell from his mouth and fluttered to the ground below him.
Disoriented, he surveyed the world around him - he was still on the cliff. The Mortal Blade lay a few meters away. The sea was still glowing, painting the otherwise dead landscape a golden hue, and - and Qiūjì was staring at him from high up in the sky, expression appearing almost anxious. All was as he left it, but something was . . .
The familiar burn in the back of his mind. It was gone. He reached for it, searching the depths of his conscious - nothing. Shura was missing. Had - had Qiūjì done that?
And then -
"Kuro," he blurted, jerking his head back up to the dragon hovering above him.
Qiūjì closed his eyes in acknowledgement. The closed fist was brought down to the cliff and, heart pounding in anticipation and worry, Wolf nearly fell over to himself hurrying to see its contents. Gnarled fingers slowly opened, delicately unfurling like a blossom's petals, and the breath escaped Wolf all at once like a punch to the gut.
Kuro's eye was closed and he looked a bit battered, a tad worse for wear, but his chest rose and fell with even breaths. His brow furrowed as he was exposed to the elements, then his whole face scrunched up cutely, and blearily he blinked his eyes open.
"Wolf . . . ?" he mumbled sleepily with all the trust of a child awoken by their caretaker, and Wolf was frozen in place.
Kuro was not, clearly, as he blearily rubbed at his face; he then nearly leapt out of his skin, glancing around them wildly and then upward - and shouted in alarm at the sight of the dragon.
"Qiūjì! You're huge!"
The dragon seemed rather taken aback by the . . . astute observation, and finally, Wolf willed his legs to move. Qiūjì, noticing him, nodded in his direction, and when Kuro glanced back to the shinobi realization dawned on his features. Understanding, fear, and relief flickered across his face in rapid succession, and before Wolf could even reach out he was stumbling out of Qiūjì's grasp to throw himself at the shinobi.
"Wolf!"
"Kuro - !"
Wolf held Kuro as tightly as he could, relishing in the warmth he provided, in the way he could feel him breathe within the circle of his arms, and Kuro squeezed him back just as tightly, possibly even moreso. The shinobi rested his chin on that mop of soft hair and closed his eyes, and Kuro sighed into his shitagi.
"Never," Wolf ground out, fighting to keep the crack out of his voice, "ever do that to me again."
Kuro pulled back slightly to look up at him, surprise scrawled across his face. "I'm sorry," he replied, and the guilt it exuded shot Wolf straight through the heart like one of his damned arrows. "I won't. I promise." And then, his eyes widening with alarm, "Oh, Wolf, please don't cry!"
Wolf could not tell what was more embarrassing - the tears or the flush that crawled up his neck at Kuro's plea - but he was saved from having to respond by a familiar, distant shout.
"Kuro! Wolf!"
"Húli!"
Wolf turned to see an orange blur bounding down the path behind him, and he held his arm out just in time to catch the fox as she barreled into his gut, leaving him to reel back ever so slightly from the impact.
"You were supposed to wait with Joro," Kuro scolded, though he reached out to brush his fingers through her fur all the same.
"I did," she sniffed, and her voice was dangerously wobbly. "She wouldn't let me come until it was clear, but we watched from the forest's edge - you great idiots, this had better be the last of your adventures!"
"Oh, Húli, not you too," Kuro sighed at the tremble in her tone, and he took her into his own arms to hold tightly as she quivered against him. "It's okay. We're okay."
As he took to consoling their friend, Wolf did his best to discreetly scrub the tears from his cheeks and glanced up to Qiūjì. The dragon was watching them all with fondness written all over his face, and at Wolf's acknowledgement he lowered himself deeper into the waters to rest his snout on the land before them. The force of it had Kuro turning to face him as well.
Finally, I am home, he rumbled deep in his chest, so powerful now that Wolf could feel it in the ground beneath his feet, thanks to you both. I am sorry, my sons, for all the grief I have caused you.
"Qiūjì," Kuro said, exasperation seeping into his tone - he was the most mature of them all, it seemed, holding them together as everyone else struggled not to break down. "It's okay. All we wanted was to get you home safe, and here you are."
Qiūjì closed his eyes and huffed out a warm breath as Kuro wrapped his arms around the scaly muzzle to his best ability, and a single tear slid down the dragon's face and dropped to the dirt.
For a moment, there was nothing, but then the ground began to glow beneath them. The light started to spread out and, before their very eyes, the dead plants at their feet began to unfurl and regain their color. The light's radius accelerated in expansion, stretching across the land as far as the eye could see and rejuvenating it, foliage springing to life all about them.
Then, in another wave of color, it all began to age, painting the land in golds and oranges; finally, after another few moments, the air grew cold and clouds gathered in the sky, and it began to snow.
"The seasons are returning," Kuro remarked, awe in his voice.
It will be hard on the country, at first, Qiūjì said, but its people will figure it out again.
The fondness in his voice was unmistakable - Qiūjì cared for his homeland and the people in it, and had missed it more than he let on. Wolf rested a gentle hand on his snout, and Qiūjì sighed gently in acknowledgement of the reassurance.
And then golden light shone from above them, and even Qiūjì glanced up, startled. That was not according to plan, then. Qiūjì rose further, straightening to his full height as though shielding them from the light, and by pure instinct Wolf pushed his way in front of Kuro as an extra layer of protection.
The light grew, then morphed into a great shape - another dragon. But when the light faded, he found this one to be much larger than any of the others they had encountered, and Qiūjì bared his teeth and snarled at the intruder. Its scales were a deep, dark blue, and lights like stars glimmered along its black mane.
It looked just like the night sky.
"Run. There you are."
"Run?" Kuro echoed. "Qiūjì?"
Their dragon hesitated, and the new one fixed its eyes on the humans below. Wolf tensed, ready to dart for the Mortal Blade. Qiūjì was back to full strength, which meant Wolf was free to die - if this dragon became a threat, the shinobi had nothing stopping him from fighting back anymore.
"Ao Run," the unknown one finally clarified. "His true name."
So the Western King did have his own name. Kuro glanced up to him, confused, but Qiūjì moved further in front of his charges.
Longwang. You will not harm my humans.
"Come, brother. You think me crueler than I am."
Ah. This was the eldest brother the others spoke of - the Dragon King. The staredown continued, Qiūjì refusing to speak further, and before long Longwang buckled; he sighed, closing his eyes, and lowered his head beneath Qiūjì's level.
"I came to apologize. And . . . to welcome you back."
Qiūjì did not respond, but his posture did loosen somewhat. Apparently taking this as a good sign, Longwang directed his attention back to the humans, and he approached the ground, shrinking before their very eyes. With another burst of golden light, he shifted again, and before them stood an ancient, regal man in clothes that glimmered like the night sky.
"I must thank you personally," he said, dropping to one knee and bowing his head, "for returning him home. If there is any way I can repay you, please, name it."
Discomfort rippled among them, and Kuro and Wolf shared an uncertain look before Kuro frowned and squared his shoulders.
"You can thank us by going away," he snapped, and Wolf fought the urge to smack a hand over his mouth before he stretched the Dragon King's patience. "Qiūjì might forgive you, but I don't! You could have done a thousand things to get him back, or at least make our job easier, but instead you left us to do all the heavy lifting. I want you out of my sight!"
Longwang's brow furrowed, and he glanced questioningly up to Wolf as though the shinobi had any real authority over Kuro. "You heard him," was his curt addition. After all, he rather felt the same.
You heard him, Qiūjì agreed, and Kuro placed his hands firmly on his hips.
Kuro was not even afraid, Wolf realized - there was not the faintest tremble in his posture or waver in his expression. He was furious. Longwang stood once more, an inscrutable expression smothering a baffled one, and he bowed low.
"As you wish. And . . . thank you again."
He vanished in another burst of light and the twinkle of stars, and Qiūjì's body sagged, resting once more against the cliff. Kuro relaxed, sighing and shaking his head, and glanced back up to their dragon.
"Qiūjì," he addressed him tentatively, "or should we call you Ao Run?"
Whatever you prefer, Qiūjì replied easily.
"Qiūjì," Kuro decided. "Well . . . I guess this is it, Qiūjì. You're back where you're meant to be."
"What will you do now?" Húli piped up, sounding alarmed. "You're not going home, are you?"
To what home could they return? Ashina was undoubtedly no more at this point, and they had no attachment to Japan itself, especially with the Ministry about. Here, they had Qiūjì, Húli, Joro . . . there was no need to leave them behind. It would be nice to stay here.
"We are home," Wolf said, his chest warm at the admission. Kuro squeezed his hand, smile bright.
"Yeah," he agreed. "We're home."