Welcome Home
The mountains leading up to the Mao Monastery were treacherous, with tall looming trees that blocked any sight of the horizon line, and steep uneven faces. Every inch of the mountain looks no different the last, and with no distinguishing landmarks, it was easy to lose your way.
Brunhilde on the other hand, had made the trek up and down the mountain so many times, she knew the secret path up by muscle memory alone.
She placed her hand on a tree, next to a hidden symbol that was etched into the bark. The symbol resembled a cat's eye, at least it did if you squinted at it. It was meant to be secret, so the symbol was carved to blend in with the texture of the tree. It was easy to look for if you knew it was there, so naturally only clan members could find their way to the Monastery.
Brunhilde let her mind wander as she stepped between the towering pillars of bark. The Unbeatable Master coaxed her into starting her search at "the beginning". It stood to reason that was her "beginning" was at the Mao Monastery. That was where a lot of things started for her, her journey to be a legendary hero, among other things.
The small rays of light that peaked through the trees glinted of her armor, armor that was covered in flecks of blood from monsters she had faced on the way home. They were nothing too serious, as it only takes a single swing of her spear to down any foe that stands before her.
By the time she caught a glimpse of the monastery, the sun was threatening to set, and leave her in total darkness. One of the peaks of the monastery poked between the trees, the view left Brunhilde a bit excited, and a bit in dread.
When Brunhilde stood before the Monastery, a woman stood in the doorway. Her cool blue eyes looked over her daughter, pleased to see her home after so long.
Brunhilde gave a small wave. "Hi Mom."
"Brunhilde, my little girl," Cleo said with a heartfelt smile. "It's so good to see you again."
Brunhilde stepped up to meet her mother as they embraced, her large build dwarfing her mother's.
"We saw each other at the last reunion."
"That was two years ago," retorted Cleo. "Now come in, you must be tired!"
Brunhilde followed the woman into the ancestral home. As the biggest of the six siblings, it was easy to feel like a giant, but the gargantuan halls of the Mao Monastery were one of the few things that made her feel small.
"Is Father home?" Brunhilde asked, scanning the rooms as they walked by, looking out for her mountain of a father, clad in golden armor.
"No, your father is out at the moment," Cleo answered, her tone carried a hint of melancholy. "But you know how it is. A hero's work is never done."
"Don't I know it," Brunhilde half whispered, gripping her spear hard enough to shatter a normal one. "So then, where is he?"
"Oh, it was something about a band of thieves who have been hurting the business of a merchant's guild in a village to the south," Cleo told her.
"A band of thieves?" Brunhilde repeated. "Isn't that a little small for him?"
Cleo giggled at the question. Brunhilde tilted her head, wondering what was so funny.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Cleo looked back at her daughter. "Your father has recently decided to reevaluate what his priorities as a hero."
"Reevaluate his priorities?" Brunhilde parroted. For whatever reason, she found that hard to believe.
Cleo beamed. "Yes, he's trying different methods, but the one he's using right now is that 'no evil is too small'. I think it's fantastic."
"I-I see," Brunhilde said. Her father is one of the most conservative, hard headed people she knows, and now he's changing up his heroic outlook.
The two women continued down the halls for a little while, sitting in silence until Cleo finally spoke. "How was your training?"
"My training," Brunhilde murmured. "It was... a learning experience. Master said I needed to spend my time elsewhere for a while."
Cleo, though slightly curious, chose not to pursue the matter any further. Her daughter was home, and she wanted to catch up as much as she could while she was still here. "Why don't you settle in? I'll prepare some drinks and we can talk some more."
"I'd like that," Brunhilde watched her mother continue on, turning the corner to make her way to the kitchen.
Brunhilde decided to lay down in her old room for awhile. The door was closed, scratches coated the frame, measuring her height throughout the years. Eventually she grew to be five inches taller than the frame, and they had to mark the wall above it.
Brunhilde ducked into the room. It was exactly as she had left it. A king sized bed rest at the back of the room, draped in white sheets and a blue duvet.
A night stand stood next it, with a little flower pot that hosted a gardenia. Brunhilde carefully laid her spear against the wall, and discarded a majority of her armor onto the floor. She brushed her finger against the petals, checking it's health.
Brunhilde let out a sigh. Her mother was definitely taking care of it while she's been away. Brunhilde cast a gaze across the room. In any other household, you'd mistake it as a master bedroom. In the corner were the remains of an old punching bag.
She remembered the day she broke it. Ten years ago, she had been so furious, that she lashed out at the bag. In a single punch, she tore through it, sand sprayed everywhere. What had she been mad about?
As the years go buy, Brunhilde found that everything would begin to blur together. Ask her what she had for breakfast last week, and she'll need a minute to think about it. Faces of children she played with long ago were just silhouettes to her now.
In another corner of the room, resting in its A-stand, was an instrument that Brunhilde loved to play to her flowers. Grabbing the it by the neck, the strings felt so familiar against her fingers. Brunhilde hefted the bass into position. Quickly plugging it in to the mini amp, which laid next to the stand, Brunhilde plucked at the strings.
The instrument gave off a deep sound, Brunhilde liked the sound. That deep and heavy sound that was able to make you feel your own skull. Brunhilde practiced a few bass lines, sure enough, she was out of practice. She kept over and underestimating the distance between the frets, causing the strings to hit the frets awkwardly as they vibrated, making this weird knocking sound.
Brunhilde remembered when her sisters and she would put on little shows for their mother. Brunhilde would play music, Hinata would dance, and Violet would sing. Minori wasn't a fan if it wasn't something she could play in the background while training, and Ashaki kept her nose buried in the books of the Mao Archives.
Brunhilde felt like she could reminisce forever. Where had the time gone, nowadays she hardly hears from anyone. Though she wasn't one to talk either, communication is a two way street.
After some time had passed, Brunhilde began to feel a little restless. She decided to wander the halls of the monastery for a bit. Every once in awhile, she would see a picture of one of their family members hanging up on the walls.
She currently stood before the picture of their great-great-aunt Blackbeard. She had a whole chapter in the hero's code book. Given the option out of everyone in their family, Brunhilde would say that it was Blackbeard she aspired to be like.
Though Blackbeard passed away before Brunhilde was born, so all she heard of her were stories. Blackbeard was actually a black sheep in the family. When the rest of the clan forged their destinies in heroism, Blackbeard decided on another path. Blackbeard would eventually become a legend in her own right, freeing slaves from government galleons, toppling other pirate's from their seats of infamy. So became Blackbeard, the anti-hero.
"You always did like that painting," Cleo said.
Brunhilde jumped in her skin, she never heard her mother approach. Now the woman stood less than an arm's length from Brunhilde.
"You haven't lost your touch," Brunhilde commented.
The woman smiled to herself and shrugged. "I have a lot of time on my hands, I need to do something until you get back." Cleo turned away and started to walk down the corridor.
Brunhilde rolled her eyes and followed. For a woman smaller than Brunhilde, Cleo's gait was was long. "Do you still... search for her?"
Cleo stopped mid-step, her breath hitched for a moment. "Y-yes," she said. "Almost every day."
"It's been ten years," Brunhilde pressed, clenching her fists. "Maybe you should consider the possibility that she-"
Cleo whipped around and looked her daughter in the eye. Her gaze wasn't harsh, but rather gentle. Silently telling her daughter to not finish that sentence. "She's alive, there's no other possibility. If she were-, I'd still be able to find her."
"Then why can't you and Ashaki find her?"
Cleo let out a sigh. "The only explanation is that she has a charm on her that's concealing her presence."
"Or she's somewhere with a charm on it," Brunhilde added.
Cleo glanced off to the side. "That, is another option, yes."
Brunhilde thought to herself. If Dusk was behind this, then that would make sense. They've attacked the Mao family before, one could even say they're the clan's arch nemesis.
"Why don't we change the topic," Cleo suggested, this topic was taking her thoughts to dark places she didn't want to consider.
"What to?" Brunhilde replied. "All I've done is train with the Unbeatable Master."
"We could talk about other things," Cleo began to move again, her steps were eerily silent. "Like about what your doing here." Brunhilde tensed a little. "You wouldn't be here just because."
Brunhilde's mouth fell open, her mother had seen right through her. The Unbeatable Master wanted her to find her spark again, she thought she would have a clue as to what he was referring to when she arrived at the monastery. But nothing.
Brunhilde mulled over her options. With a sigh, she went on and explained the situation to her mother.
Mao Mao's body still felt heavy. Any attempt to move his body was met with a small amount of pain. After pushing his body past its limit (while under Ashaki's technique), he had collapsed onto the marble floor.
Hours later, he woke up in Camille's office. His body was hooked up to an assortment of machines that Camille had to borrow from the hospital after he got banned from said hospital.
"I swear," Camille said to Mao Mao, seeing that he was awake. She pulled some suction sensors off his body that had been measuring his vitals. "You seem to find your way here every other week."
Mao Mao wanted to open his mouth to retort, but he didn't have the energy to argue. Instead he just sat and listened to Camille go off on him yet again.
He gradually zoned her out, and slowly gazed around the room. It must've been sometime past noon. Camille's assistant Honey was alphabetizing books and sorting materials. It was just the three of them, where was Ashaki? Where was Tanya? Mao Mao eventually looked down his body and saw that his gloves were missing.
At the sight of his hands, it dawned on him that he had burned his hands and gloves together. He pulled his hands up to examine them. They looked natural, like he had never burned himself at all.
"Your sister came by earlier," Camille told him. "The green one. Sharp girl, that one. Only a handful of people practice the mystic arts these days. She came by to see how you were doing and saw you burned yourself, and healed your hands up."
Not a lot of people these day practice the Mystic Arts. What with magic and cybernetic enhancements, it's become a dying art.
The doors to Camille's workspace flung open, Minori shouting at the top of her lungs. "Good morning, Pure Heart Valley!"
The sudden noise shocked Honey, who lost her grip on a beaker of a lime green substance. They fumbled with it for a second before it finally fell and shattered on a carpet.
Camille hung her head, muttering about how they needed to burn that carpet now. "It not morning anymore."
"It's morning somewhere," Minori retorted. The martial artist jogged across the room, grabbing a stray stool, she dragged it across the floor before setting it next to Mao Mao. "Hey, little brother. The king filled us in when we woke up."
Mao Mao opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out.
"Yeah, he also told me about how Shaki 'performed her magics' on you and your friend," Minori held up her hands and wiggled her fingers like she was performing a spell. "The backlash on those are brutal. Violet left to tell BC and AB where we are."
Mao Mao mouthed another name, "Tanya?"
"She and a majority of the guards were ushered to the hospital to undergo some testing and physicals," Minori explained before dawning a sly smirk. "Were you worried about her?"
Mao Mao blushed and diverted his gaze to another part of the room.
"Called it," Minori said to herself. "So, how come you're here and not at the hospital with everyone else?"
"He got banned," Camille answered for him.
"You can get banned from hospitals?" Minori exclaimed in surprise. "That's awesome!"
Camille grumbled to herself, flipping through the pages of tomes and texts. "Speak for yourself."
"Anyway, I just wanted come and see how you were doing, and... I wanted to say thank you, for helping me and Violet."
Mao Mao looked back to his sister. He shook his head, "Ashaki," he mouthed.
"Yeah, yeah," Minori waved the name aside. "I know she was the one who killed the moth, but still." Minori fidgeted with the belt around her waist, unsure of what to say next.
"I-it's no, p-problem," Mao Mao strained, his voice raspy from not having any liquids recently.
"Let me get you some water," Minor hopped off the stool and left to fetch some water.
A few seconds after Minori had left, Camille rolled her eyes to herself. "These Mao's are such a handful."
Minori jogged around the corner before coming to a stop. She looked down at her bandanna, wrapped around her wrist. Reflecting on the night before, Minori clenched her jaw in regret. She had let a moth, a moth, take her out of the fight, even turn her against her brother. She had left him alone.
"Ten years," Minori murmured to herself. "And nothing has changed. I'm so pathetic. Some 'shield'."
"And that's when I came here," Brunhilde finished, she and her mother had moved the conversation to one of the couches in the family room, where they dined on tea and biscuits.
"I see," her mother thought to herself for moment. "So you're in a rut."
Brunhilde flinched. "That's one way to put it," she said as she took a sip. "Got any ideas?"
Cleo rattled her head, seeking some wisdom to offer her daughter. "Hmm, sorry, I have no frame of reference."
Brunhilde let out a sigh. "Of course you don't."
"Apologies," Cleo bowed her head. "I know you expected a bit more wisdom from this graying woman."
Brunhilde's eyes went wide. "No, Mom, you listening was more than enough." Brunhilde rested her hand on her mother's shoulder.
Cleo looked her daughter's large hand, Brunhilde's index finger was even with the rest of her fingers, but it wasn't resting on her shoulder. She remembered when Brunhilde's hands were small enough to fit in her own. Cleo placed her hand on top of Brunhilde's. "I'm glad I helped in some way."
Brunhilde pushed herself off the couch, "it's okay, I'll just stick around until I come up with something."
Cleo couldn't herself but smile, her daughter was home with her, and she didn't mind.
Writer's Note: random thought, but would anyone like if I did a Q ant the end of the chapter? I've seen it done on some fanfics I've read, and I thought it was a good way to clear up any questions people had about the story. Yay? Nay?