Obsidian
Chapter Three: The King
"Asami, welcome home," Yomichi Soma's deep voice rumbled as he enveloped his daughter in a brief but firm hug. In the kitchen, her mother flitted about, expertly arranging a spread of dishes on the dining room table.
"Thank you, Father," Asami murmured, savoring the warmth of his embrace.
"Ma, I picked up the mail!" Kyo shouted, rushing in and hastily removing his sandals, shoving them into the shoe rack.
"Thank you, Kyo!" Hata called from the kitchen. Kyo darted toward her, drawn by the enticing aroma, only to be playfully shoved back out.
Yomichi moved into the living room, pouring himself a drink from the makeshift bar. The front door swung open again, revealing Asami's aunt and cousin. Hiro juggled two dishes, removing her sandals with deft movements. Kyami's eyes lit up as she spotted Asami, her emotions flickering just below the surface.
"Auntie," Asami said, bowing slightly, "Cousin. Congratulations." Her smile was bright, but she felt the weight of formality.
"Thank you," Kyami replied, nodding curtly. This was Princess Asami at her best—polished and poised, a tightrope walk between respect and defiance that the elders had always praised.
"That's right," Yomichi chimed in, raising his cup. "Chunin. Congratulations, 'Ami." He extended his hand, expecting a shake. Asami noticed Kyami hesitate, surprise flashing across her face before she grasped Yomichi's hand firmly.
"Dinner is served!" Hata announced, placing the final dish on the dining room table.
The atmosphere remained calm throughout dinner, punctuated by side conversations that danced around the table. After the meal, Hata cleared the dishes and poured fresh mugs of tea for everyone. Yomichi opted for another glass of sake, eager to unwind after a long day. He served as Ibiki Morino's right hand in the Konohagakure Intelligence Division, a job shrouded in secrecy and darkness. Though he never spoke of it, Asami knew the work was often gruesome—interrogations, tortures, psychological warfare.
"How long are you here for?" Yomichi asked as he walked alongside Asami toward his office. The Clan Head's house was a sprawling wooden structure, divided into quadrants, with a serene courtyard at its center. As they walked, Asami studied her father, noticing the greying strands at his temples and the creases forming around his purple eyes. His flak jacket hung unzipped, revealing the mesh armor underneath, and the scars on his chest told tales of past battles.
"I don't know," Asami replied, clasping her hands behind her back. "Lady Tsunade mentioned some time off."
Yomichi paused, his gaze drifting toward the well-kept courtyard. He seemed to relish the moment, soaking in the tranquility with his daughter.
"This will be yours someday," he finally said, his voice heavier than usual. Asami sensed an unusual emotional current in him tonight. "The next generation rises, and the cycle continues."
Asami opened her mouth to speak but hesitated as she caught the conflicted look on her father's face.
"Asami," Yomichi said, taking a long sip of his sake. "War is inevitable. Good shinobi die trying to prevent it. We've been fortunate to survive..."
"Father—"
"No, 'Sami," Yomichi interjected, gripping his cup tightly before loosening his hold, afraid of shattering it. He wanted to shield his wife from the weight of their conversation. "You are heir to the clan. One day, I will step down, and it will be your duty."
"My duty," Asami echoed flatly, having heard this speech countless times throughout her childhood.
"I want to show you something that every Clan Head shows their heir," Yomichi continued, his eyes glowing a deep purple. Asami followed him into the courtyard, facing north.
"Every shinobi in the village is taught the Will of Fire..." he said, his voice trailing off as he stared into the distance, an emotion Asami couldn't quite place shadowing his expression. "You and your brother carry that Will within you. I am proud of both of you, 'Sami, but it is my responsibility to teach you how to protect the King."
The King? Asami's mind raced back to the mission debrief she had attended earlier. Her father had never spoken to her like this before, and unease settled in her stomach at the implication that something dark was brewing, as Lady Tsunade had hinted.
Yomichi pointed toward the north, where the Clan Head's bedroom lay. Asami activated her eyes as he did, noticing intricate words stitched into the fabric of the walls—words in a language she didn't recognize.
"One day, you will understand," Yomichi muttered, groaning slightly as he shut his eyes. Asami knew the toll their eyes took and feared her father was straining his sight. He had fought in two wars, earning the title of the Leaf's Purple Demon.
Before she could voice her concerns, Yomichi turned at the sound of his wife's footsteps approaching.
"'Sami, 'Yomi," Hata greeted, wiping her hands on her apron. Yomichi wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close with a soft chuckle, guiding her back inside the house. Asami watched them, a fond smile creeping onto her face, as she trailed behind them.
"I was just telling 'Sami how we met," Yomichi said, his tone light and misleading. Asami noticed the blush blooming on her mother's pale cheeks.
"Oh, he's probably not telling it right! Did he mention that he saved me? Because he didn't!" Hata chimed, playfully elbowing her husband. Yomichi's laughter echoed warmly through the living room.
"It's late," Asami announced, slipping into her sandals. "I'm going home."
"Oh, take some leftovers with you. You need to eat more," Hata called, already heading to the kitchen.
"Father," Asami hesitated, watching the greying shinobi settle into his recliner. "About what you said before—"
"You know who the King is," Yomichi replied, finishing his glass of sake.
Asami's mind raced with uncertainty. Who was "the King" her father referred to? As she darted across the rooftops toward the Konoha Library, her thoughts swirled, piecing together fragments of conversation she had buried deep.
By the time she arrived at the library, the summer night had grown chilly, the air crisp against her skin. The library was mostly empty, save for a few Academy students studying in quiet corners. Asami weaved through the shelves until she reached the door marked "Historical Artifacts." Wincing at the creaking sound of the old wood, she entered the well-maintained exhibit room.
Various historical artifacts were displayed, each telling a story of its own. She walked past the exhibits until she found one distinctly marked "Soma" in bold letters.
Standing before the exhibit, Asami felt a faint glow of pride mixed with dread. A memory flickered to life, of her Academy class's first trip to the library, how her peers had marveled at the display dedicated to her family. She scanned the exhibit repeatedly, searching for something elusive. After several minutes, frustration mounted, and she pressed her hands against the glass, feeling the weight of her body as she clenched her eyes shut.
The famed Soma clan of the Leaf—renowned warriors during the Warring States Period, feared for their Baizōgan. The legacy continued through the generations, culminating in her. Yet, she despised her eyes. She despised the fear they inspired in others and the turmoil that rose within her each time she used the Eye of Damnation.
What a fitting name...
Pushing herself off the display, Asami activated the Eye of Enlightenment, then the Eye of Damnation, followed by a dual activation. Frustration surged inside her and Asami resisted the urge to shatter the glass display. Noticing a small stack of neatly arranged books beside the display, she gathered them, carrying them to a small table in the center of the room.
"Asami."
Asami jolted awake, her breath catching as her instinct to reach for her weapons flared. Reality settled in as she glanced around, recognizing the familiar confines of the library. She had fallen asleep amidst hours of relentless research. Shizune crouched beside her, carefully gathering the scattered sheets of paper that littered the floor.
"Oh, Shizune, good morning," Asami said, her voice rough with sleep. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Shizune handed the stack of papers to Asami, her expression revealing concern. "It looks like you've been here all night."
"Yeah, I must have fallen asleep," Asami admitted, yawning as she rubbed her sore neck. Standing up, she reached for her flak jacket, which lay neatly on the table. A heavy silence hung between them as Asami began to tidy her workspace, the weight of unspoken thoughts palpable in the air.
"Asami," Shizune said suddenly, her gaze fixed on the floor as she wrestled with something internal.
"Shizune," Asami replied, her voice sharper than intended. She turned to face the medical-nin, sensing the seriousness in her tone. Shizune stood frozen, biting into her bottom lip as she contemplated her words. Asami watched, papers clutched tightly in her fists, the tension thickening the atmosphere.
"Asami," she repeated, her onyx eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Do… do you think about Yumi?"
Asami felt a rush of emotions, her heart tightening at the mention of Shizune's sister. Their brief friendship had been irreparably scarred by Yumi's death in battle, a tragedy that loomed over them like a dark shadow. Professionalism had replaced their once-easy camaraderie, but the strain was evident.
"All the time," Asami replied, her voice steady but heavy with truth. She could see the hurt in Shizune's eyes, the unspoken questions, and the weight of grief that they both carried.
Asami trudged through the forest, each step sending a jolt of pain through her side where a semi-healed wound throbbed. Blood seeped from her fingers, staining her clothes as she pressed against the injury. A few paces ahead, her father carried Yumi's lifeless body—an unthinkable weight that he bore silently, honoring Asami's request to save Yumi's body from enemy hands.
The village's bright red gates emerged from the trees, and Asami felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She paused on a massive tree branch, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
"'Sami..." Jirroko landed beside her, his voice low and strained. His right arm hung in a makeshift sling, a grim reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded.
"Go," she urged, wincing as she knelt, desperate to hide the pain that shot through her.
"No," Jirroko replied, determination hardening his voice. Asami met his gaze, noting the dried blood on his face and the swollen bruise around his left eye. "Together."
With a heavy sigh, she nodded, too fatigued to protest. They leaped down from the branch, landing beside her father, who looked at her with a mixture of concern and grief.
"Asami," Yomichi said, his voice trembling as he took in her frail form. She could see him struggling to maintain his composure, his pain evident. Without a word, she limped past him, instinctively leading the way as they approached the village gate. A crowd of villagers and shinobi had gathered, their murmurs rising to a crescendo of shock and confusion.
Shizune pushed through the crowd, her eyes widening at the sight before her. The images burned into her mind: Yomichi's bare chest marred by a deep gash, Yumi's limp body swaying slightly with Yomichi's every step. Asami pressed one hand firmly into her side, trying to suppress the pain, while Jirroko winced beside her, his makeshift sling barely holding.
"Shizune," Asami said, her voice hoarse.
Shizune stared, her mouth opening and closing as if searching for words. Yomichi stood beside Asami, tension radiating from him. "I'm sorry," Asami added, the weight of regret heavy in her chest.
In a sudden rush of emotion, Shizune's hand shot out and connected with Asami's cheek. The impact surprised her, sending her stumbling slightly as hair fell onto her face. Jirroko quickly stepped behind her, bracing her with his one good arm as Shizune's hands trembled, the reality of their loss settling heavily around them.
Asami steadied herself, drawing on the flicker of strength still within her. Her eyes glowed faintly, a manifestation of her kekkei genkai, and the crowd fell into a hushed silence, drawn in by the gravity of the moment.
Without looking back, Asami pushed past Shizune and continued toward the Hokage's office. Each step was a struggle, but she knew there was no turning back. The pain, the loss—they were a part of her now, but she had to keep moving forward.
The two kunoichi stood locked in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. Shizune's eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and Asami couldn't help but wonder if she, too, was haunted by the nightmares that plagued her own sleep. She had made her peace with the nightmares long ago; they were her penance for failing to protect her comrade.
"I... I'm sorry for how I acted during the debrief," Shizune finally broke the silence, pulling Asami from her dark reverie.
Asami hummed, turning away to gather the last of the papers strewn across the small workstation. "It's fine," she said, dismissing the apology.
"It's not," Shizune countered, her voice thick with emotion. She sighed deeply, her onyx eyes softening, the tears shimmering but no longer falling. "Seeing you and Jirroko together again... it made me think of Yumi."
Asami froze, her grip tightening around the papers until they crumpled in her hands. The sound of the paper wrinkling broke through the fog of her thoughts. Shizune pressed on, her gaze unwavering despite Asami's visible discomfort. "She would be proud of you both, you know? She'd be happy to see you thriving."
"Stop," Asami said through clenched teeth, fury bubbling beneath her surface. "Don't... don't do this."
"A-Asami, I—"
"Please," Asami interrupted, her voice cracking, causing anger to swell inside of her at the sign of vulnerability.
"Can you show me?" Shizune whispered, her voice so faint that Asami almost missed it over the thundering of her heart. Asami turned slightly, enough to catch the pleading look on Shizune's face.
"Can you show me with your eyes... can you show me how Yumi died?"
Asami's breath caught in her throat, the request a sharp knife twisting in her chest. The memories surged—chaotic, visceral, and far too real. She felt the weight of the past crashing down around her, and for a moment, she was suspended in the agony of that moment, the guilt clawing at her insides. Asami had withstood brutal torture, powerful genjutsus, and horrific beatings, but this—this was different. It was a wound that refused to heal, reopening every time Asami closed her eyes.
The request had shocked Asami to her very core. Her heart began to race, pounding so hard it drowned out all other sounds. Asami's mouth parted in an attempt to breathe, but each inhalation felt shallow as if the air had grown too thick to grasp. A tightness constricted her throat, and the sudden realization she was suffocating overwhelmed her.
Asami placed a trembling hand on her chest, attempting to self-soothe herself. Her fingers felt foreign on her own body as they tingled with a strange mix of cold and heat. Her heart raced faster in her chest and Asami swore Shizune could hear it rattling her ribcage.
"I-I..." Asami heaved as her vision blurred, the exhibit room fading into a hazy whirl as the ground beneath her feet felt unsteady. Shizune's request had unleashed several dozens of thoughts Asami had worked tirelessly to keep suppressed, causing a frantic and chaotic storm inside her mind. Asami fought to regain control of her own body, to ground herself in this reality, but each passing second felt like an eternity.
"Asami? Asami!" Shizune shouted as Asami collapsed onto her knees, clutching her chest.