Re: Yaarou Compound; The Brewing Storm
Posted: Sun Jun 22, 2025 11:59 am
But just as Hiroshi was set to unleash the storm of energy he'd been amassing for centuries, a second force collided with his spine with a sickening crunch of fury and might.
BOOOOOOM.
His body was launched through the air like a ragdoll on fire, crashing into the far wall of the chamber with such force that the stone behind him cratered.
Dust and sediment fell like rain.
And at the point of impact, standing like a monument to pain and perseverance, was Mitsuko—the last remaining champion of Hitomi’s vanguard.
Her breath hissed between cracked ribs. Her legs shook beneath her. Her abdomen was split wide, viscera coiling from the gaping wound in ropes of slick, red meat. But her eyes were clear. Sharp.
And her grip on her Hexbound weapon was unwavering.
“Sorry…” she rasped through gritted teeth, spitting globs of red onto the floor. “The old bastard sucker punched me…”
She grinned through the pain. Her voice was feral. Raw. Almost playful..
Her body was repairing itself as she spoke—muscle knitting, bone resetting, veins hissing back together. Her mastery of Shōkotsu was unprecedented, and seemed less of a technique for her than it was a reflex. And she looked like she enjoyed every bit of how it made her feel. Invincible.
In a matter of moments, Mitsuko was standing good as new—aside from her tattered garments. She massaged a few kinks out of her neck before she lifted her enormous axe and rested the weapon along her shoulders.
“Didn't mean to interrupt, but I owed him that one.” She said, eyes burning like coals beneath her blood matted bangs.
Hitomi's lips curled with the quiet recognition. She wasn't too fond of positive affirmations, but she couldn't deny that she was impressed.
Then she vanished, only to reappear where Hiroshi’s crumpled body lay, embedded in fractured obsidian. He was wheezing, his skin twisted and torn. He was a poor mimicry of the confident sorcerer who rampaged through her throne room not moments ago. He was healing now—slowly, and desperate.
Hitomi performed an Ava—and with a single downward gesture, a lattice of shimmering silver runes slammed across Hiroshi's torso. They sank into his body like branding irons, binding him with a hiss of iron and steam.
“He’ll live,”she said coldly. “I want him moved into a medical unit. Seal the room. I will deal with him later.”
Two silent guards rushed through the chamber doors as if they'd been waiting in the hall for Hitomi's voice. And they did not hesitate to drag the man's paralyzed form from the wreckage. They secured his limbs and neck with enchanted shackles, dragged his sagging body out of the throne room.
And the second they were gone—Elder Jhun erupted.
“You—You knew what would happen!” he hissed, his voice taut with restrained fury. “Yet you freed him anyway.. and you watched. The blood pooled on this floor is on your hands, Hitomi!”
Ayune stepped forward, trembling, her face still pale from the confrontation. Her voice was softer, but no less cutting.
“You had the power to stop it,” she whispered. “You always did. And yet you watched them die. You let them be slaughtered; your own Champions…”
Hitomi turned to face them from across the room, and even then, her gaze felt glacial.
“..because he was right.” she said plainly, stepping past the debris as she returned to her throne
“My Grandfather is a monster. That much is obvious. But even monsters have their uses.” She continued. “I happen to believe they have a talent for exposing weakness, exploiting it, and dragging it into the open.”
She said, casually gesturing toward the piles of bodies along her chamber floor.
“Now the weak are dead. And what remains… is Mitsuko.”
And then her gaze—reverent and regal, shifted to the woman in question; still collecting her breath, and mending her wounds. Mitsuko responded to her Xhi'on’s praise with a nervous, almost childish grin.
“You will be honored,” Hitomi said, placing a hand upon Mitsuko's shoulder as she neared her seat. “From this day, the Al’Korei is born again, and you will serve at the helm of my guard.
Mitsuko, taken aback, anchored her weapon into the ground and bowed her head in reverence. “I will not fail you, little lord.”
Hitomi then turned away to address the Elders. “You will teach her, Ayune. Everything you know about Shōkotsu. Every nuance. Every triumph and failure you've encountered.. Spare no expense molding her talent into something worth standing at my side."
Ayune bit her lip, but she did not issue a response. She merely issued a nod.
Jhun’s voice returned, quieter, but edged with fire. “And him?”he pointed to the corridor where Hiroshi had been dragged—"You'd keep him—that thing—in our walls?”
“Yes,” Hitomi replied simply.
“I'm sorry..” Jhun continued.. “Have you no concern for our safety? Such ill-advised behavior borders on treason.. Even for you, my Xhi’on. ”
“What are you so afraid of, hm?” she snapped back. “Do you no longer feel comfort in my shadow?”
Her gaze turned dagger sharp.
“I am Xhi’on not because of my sense of tradition, or my capacity for caution. It is because I am the strongest..” She said, staring directly into Jhun's quivering face.
He said nothing in response. He couldn't. But Hitomi persisted.
“It has been awhile since you've wielded a blade, but instead of being scared of your enemy, you would be wise to learn from them what you can.”
She looked down at her fingers. Then past them, to the corpses on the floor.
“Hiroshi is an immortal, with an undying hunger and will to covet that which is not his. He will challenge me again for the throne. And he will do so again, and again. And each time, I will defeat him. And each time, I will learn.”
The Elders fell silent.
“I will not waste one of the greatest minds our clan has ever produced because some of you can't stomach a little blood.” She said, her gaze cutting back at her skittish Elders. “Lest I remind you both, again, there is a war approaching the shores of Edo.. An army of monsters, bigger and stronger than a petty old man. And they will not care how sacred our halls are.”
And then—
The doors groaned open, once again.
A figure stepped through the entryway—tall, cloaked in soot-black forge-leathers. The Forgemaster had returned, with heat, smoke, and sweat clinging to his broad shoulders. And strapped to his back was something even larger than he, wrapped to a bind with enchanted cloth.
His footsteps echoed with gravity.
But as he entered the blood-slicked hall, he paused at the carnage. His eyes hovered hauntedly over the corpses and the fractured walls, but upon meeting his Xhi'on's gaze, his compounding fear found a true motivator.
He said nothing, and approached the throne. Stepping past ruined corpses as if they were just shadows.
“It is finished, my Xhi’on.” He said as he knelt at the foot of the dias and lowered the bound instrument.
Hitomi stepped down from the platform and unwrapped the cloth herself.
A Naginata—Its obsidian shaft gleamed faintly in the torchlight of the chamber. But it was the blade that arrested her breath. It curved like a crescent moon, deep and wide, and shimmered with a prism of colors.
“We used the alloys gifted to us by Hyperia to serve as a base—and smelted the eyes of several Shi into a bath, and allowed the instrument to cool within it.” the Forgemaster said, recalling the nuances behind his finest work with pride blooming in his voice. “It is unlike any Hexbound Instrument I have forged before—But I saved the best of my talents for you, my Xhi’on.”
Hitomi took the weapon to her hand and familiarized herself with its weight. When she was done, she barely looked amused.. let alone content. The Forgemaster dared not look up to meet her discontent, he simply awaited her voice.
“Well done.” She said plainly, allowing the Forgemaster to take a breath in relief. Hitomi then proceeded to enchant her new weapon by tracing her finger along it—causing a script of glyphs to spread along its shaft and blade like blackened veins.
“Now.” Hitomi said, turning now to address her Elders, and Mitsuko, who had yet to rise from her kneel. “Each of you has your orders. I am tired.. and will retire to my room for the day.”
BOOOOOOM.
His body was launched through the air like a ragdoll on fire, crashing into the far wall of the chamber with such force that the stone behind him cratered.
Dust and sediment fell like rain.
And at the point of impact, standing like a monument to pain and perseverance, was Mitsuko—the last remaining champion of Hitomi’s vanguard.
Her breath hissed between cracked ribs. Her legs shook beneath her. Her abdomen was split wide, viscera coiling from the gaping wound in ropes of slick, red meat. But her eyes were clear. Sharp.
And her grip on her Hexbound weapon was unwavering.
“Sorry…” she rasped through gritted teeth, spitting globs of red onto the floor. “The old bastard sucker punched me…”
She grinned through the pain. Her voice was feral. Raw. Almost playful..
Her body was repairing itself as she spoke—muscle knitting, bone resetting, veins hissing back together. Her mastery of Shōkotsu was unprecedented, and seemed less of a technique for her than it was a reflex. And she looked like she enjoyed every bit of how it made her feel. Invincible.
In a matter of moments, Mitsuko was standing good as new—aside from her tattered garments. She massaged a few kinks out of her neck before she lifted her enormous axe and rested the weapon along her shoulders.
“Didn't mean to interrupt, but I owed him that one.” She said, eyes burning like coals beneath her blood matted bangs.
Hitomi's lips curled with the quiet recognition. She wasn't too fond of positive affirmations, but she couldn't deny that she was impressed.
Then she vanished, only to reappear where Hiroshi’s crumpled body lay, embedded in fractured obsidian. He was wheezing, his skin twisted and torn. He was a poor mimicry of the confident sorcerer who rampaged through her throne room not moments ago. He was healing now—slowly, and desperate.
Hitomi performed an Ava—and with a single downward gesture, a lattice of shimmering silver runes slammed across Hiroshi's torso. They sank into his body like branding irons, binding him with a hiss of iron and steam.
“He’ll live,”she said coldly. “I want him moved into a medical unit. Seal the room. I will deal with him later.”
Two silent guards rushed through the chamber doors as if they'd been waiting in the hall for Hitomi's voice. And they did not hesitate to drag the man's paralyzed form from the wreckage. They secured his limbs and neck with enchanted shackles, dragged his sagging body out of the throne room.
And the second they were gone—Elder Jhun erupted.
“You—You knew what would happen!” he hissed, his voice taut with restrained fury. “Yet you freed him anyway.. and you watched. The blood pooled on this floor is on your hands, Hitomi!”
Ayune stepped forward, trembling, her face still pale from the confrontation. Her voice was softer, but no less cutting.
“You had the power to stop it,” she whispered. “You always did. And yet you watched them die. You let them be slaughtered; your own Champions…”
Hitomi turned to face them from across the room, and even then, her gaze felt glacial.
“..because he was right.” she said plainly, stepping past the debris as she returned to her throne
“My Grandfather is a monster. That much is obvious. But even monsters have their uses.” She continued. “I happen to believe they have a talent for exposing weakness, exploiting it, and dragging it into the open.”
She said, casually gesturing toward the piles of bodies along her chamber floor.
“Now the weak are dead. And what remains… is Mitsuko.”
And then her gaze—reverent and regal, shifted to the woman in question; still collecting her breath, and mending her wounds. Mitsuko responded to her Xhi'on’s praise with a nervous, almost childish grin.
“You will be honored,” Hitomi said, placing a hand upon Mitsuko's shoulder as she neared her seat. “From this day, the Al’Korei is born again, and you will serve at the helm of my guard.
Mitsuko, taken aback, anchored her weapon into the ground and bowed her head in reverence. “I will not fail you, little lord.”
Hitomi then turned away to address the Elders. “You will teach her, Ayune. Everything you know about Shōkotsu. Every nuance. Every triumph and failure you've encountered.. Spare no expense molding her talent into something worth standing at my side."
Ayune bit her lip, but she did not issue a response. She merely issued a nod.
Jhun’s voice returned, quieter, but edged with fire. “And him?”he pointed to the corridor where Hiroshi had been dragged—"You'd keep him—that thing—in our walls?”
“Yes,” Hitomi replied simply.
“I'm sorry..” Jhun continued.. “Have you no concern for our safety? Such ill-advised behavior borders on treason.. Even for you, my Xhi’on. ”
“What are you so afraid of, hm?” she snapped back. “Do you no longer feel comfort in my shadow?”
Her gaze turned dagger sharp.
“I am Xhi’on not because of my sense of tradition, or my capacity for caution. It is because I am the strongest..” She said, staring directly into Jhun's quivering face.
He said nothing in response. He couldn't. But Hitomi persisted.
“It has been awhile since you've wielded a blade, but instead of being scared of your enemy, you would be wise to learn from them what you can.”
She looked down at her fingers. Then past them, to the corpses on the floor.
“Hiroshi is an immortal, with an undying hunger and will to covet that which is not his. He will challenge me again for the throne. And he will do so again, and again. And each time, I will defeat him. And each time, I will learn.”
The Elders fell silent.
“I will not waste one of the greatest minds our clan has ever produced because some of you can't stomach a little blood.” She said, her gaze cutting back at her skittish Elders. “Lest I remind you both, again, there is a war approaching the shores of Edo.. An army of monsters, bigger and stronger than a petty old man. And they will not care how sacred our halls are.”
And then—
The doors groaned open, once again.
A figure stepped through the entryway—tall, cloaked in soot-black forge-leathers. The Forgemaster had returned, with heat, smoke, and sweat clinging to his broad shoulders. And strapped to his back was something even larger than he, wrapped to a bind with enchanted cloth.
His footsteps echoed with gravity.
But as he entered the blood-slicked hall, he paused at the carnage. His eyes hovered hauntedly over the corpses and the fractured walls, but upon meeting his Xhi'on's gaze, his compounding fear found a true motivator.
He said nothing, and approached the throne. Stepping past ruined corpses as if they were just shadows.
“It is finished, my Xhi’on.” He said as he knelt at the foot of the dias and lowered the bound instrument.
Hitomi stepped down from the platform and unwrapped the cloth herself.
A Naginata—Its obsidian shaft gleamed faintly in the torchlight of the chamber. But it was the blade that arrested her breath. It curved like a crescent moon, deep and wide, and shimmered with a prism of colors.
“We used the alloys gifted to us by Hyperia to serve as a base—and smelted the eyes of several Shi into a bath, and allowed the instrument to cool within it.” the Forgemaster said, recalling the nuances behind his finest work with pride blooming in his voice. “It is unlike any Hexbound Instrument I have forged before—But I saved the best of my talents for you, my Xhi’on.”
Hitomi took the weapon to her hand and familiarized herself with its weight. When she was done, she barely looked amused.. let alone content. The Forgemaster dared not look up to meet her discontent, he simply awaited her voice.
“Well done.” She said plainly, allowing the Forgemaster to take a breath in relief. Hitomi then proceeded to enchant her new weapon by tracing her finger along it—causing a script of glyphs to spread along its shaft and blade like blackened veins.
“Now.” Hitomi said, turning now to address her Elders, and Mitsuko, who had yet to rise from her kneel. “Each of you has your orders. I am tired.. and will retire to my room for the day.”