Naurelin looked around at her surroundings. The interior of the
haiden was what most Westerners would think a stereotypical Japanese building looked like; a dark, polished wood floor, with plastered walls. Straw or reed mats –
tatami (she'd been reading up on Asian terms to better understand reports from the ABB) – covered a portion of the floor. A grid-like ceiling of light colored plaster that had a richer, golden contrasting wood framing. Splashes of vermillion marked the exit to the offering hall, and beyond that, a small building that looked like a very old, well kept house.
Outside the
shoji screens and above the roof, she could hear the sounds of nature, but not the sounds of the city. It was as if they were forbidden to intrude upon this space, but she'd read it was due to deliberate designing of the grounds and landscaping.
And then there was Lung. He was a large man to begin with. It now appeared that the man had lost some weight in whatever had befallen him, in addition to becoming a dragon, from the time he disappeared from the transport and reappeared here. If anything, it was like someone or something had removed anything extra from him. He now appeared more muscular yet leaner than before. And more at ease with himself, which reminded her of references to people so confident in their skills that they didn't need recognition from others.
Before she entered the room fully, she sat down and removed her costume's boots, setting them to the side and walked over in stocking feet to the cushion prepared for her at the table opposite of Lung, sitting down.
"Thank you for coming," he rumbled. "I do not deserve the courtesy."
Naurelin nodded politely. "You're welcome. Takara thrives, and is adored by her community," she said.
Kenta smiled. "That is good to hear. How fares the city?"
"Brockton Bay is on the road to recovery," she answered. "There's only one gang left, and they've mostly gone straight. The Asian community is healing as well."
"And the people I left behind?"
"Oni Lee killed Bakuda before he died of inoperable cancer," Naurelin continued, steeling herself against the memories. "Bakuda, whether on purpose or by accident, almost killed Takara. Lee took exception to that, ran her through, beheaded her, and then quartered the corpse."
Lung trembled briefly, containing his anger. "A quick death was more than she deserved," he finally said. "And Lee is dead. I shall have to have a drink to honor his memory."
"I have a question to ask," Naurelin stated. "What do I call you?"
Kenta nodded. "Lung is dead," he answered after some thought. "I am merely Kenta now."
- - - - - - - - - - - -
In the shrine's office, Miss Militia sat with someone she assumed was the new priest here, making polite conversation while Naurelin and Lung talked.
"So, do you find the city to your liking?" she asked.
"It's not a bad place," her host answered. "I'm only staying for a little while, until the actual priest and
miko arrive. I've got a couple of people I need to check on around the city before I leave, but it shouldn't cause any trouble. I hope. Maybe."
Miss Militia arched an eyebrow. "Your words fill me with confidence," she said with barely-concealed sarcasm. "How much trouble can we expect?"
"Actually, I'm hoping for none," he admitted. "but dealing with relatives with whom you've had an adversarial relationship for some time can be troublesome."
"Ex-wife?"
"Cousins, more like. And maybe an aunt if we forget our manners."
- - - - - - - - - - - -
"So, Kenta-
san," Naurelin asked. "What happens now?"
"I would like to return home," he admitted. "While I was not alone, I have missed my family dearly during my trials. How long have I been away?"
"You were reported missing on the 28
th of March, 2011. It's now the 15
th of September, the same year," she answered. "So, around six months. Here."
"Hmm, it seemed like more than a couple of years I spent there," Kenta mused. "Maybe three or four. Strange. Not important. Still, I am looking forward to some good food, family, a hot bath, and a comfortable bed."
Naurelin had taken in the rather primitive clothes he was wearing, a shirt of a creamy off-white color, with loose pants of a darker gray. "I recently spent over a month somewhere and returned a few hours after I left, so I can believe a few years. Might I ask where you traveled to?"
"An ancient Japan, back before the Shogunate and Bakufu took over for the Emperor," he answered. "I was told it was a completely separate reality from this one and would not influence the history of Earth Bet. I had an interesting journey and met some interesting people. Before that, I suspect I might have been in the wild areas of China or Korea. The being who abducted me trained me for some time."
"Someone
abducted you?"
"Someone I could not win against as I was," he replied with a nod. "Or, likely, as I am. Someone who could probably take apart any of the Endbringers with little effort."
"Nah, I'd have to work at it a bit," a new voice added. "They're tough, but some of the demons I fought against with Sanzang were tougher. However, that red headed sorceress gives me the willies."
Both Kenta and Naurelin turned to look at the figure, who was pouring himself a cup of tea. A lean and rangy man who looked like a monkey (or was it the other way around?), sitting cross legged on a cloud which floated a foot off the mats. Instead of the monk's robes or training clothes Kenta was used to, he was dressed in modern, casual clothes, and had a music player and some headphones hung around his neck.
"Naurelin," Kenta said, an eyebrow twitching, "this is my teacher, Sun Wukong, of many and varied titles, but the two most important here are the Monkey King and Victorious Fighting Buddha."
"So this is the young dragoness Shen Long has mentioned," Sun Wukong said, giving Naurelin a nod and a smile. "I've heard much about you."
"Thank you," she answered. "I hope it wasn't all bad."
"Eh, some good, some bad," Wukong allowed. "Pretty much the usual, with an extra helping of being a good
senpai. Anyway, I'd just thought I'd stop by on my way west, make sure my disciple made it home safely. I've got to have a few words with some people back home. I think someone's about to lose their mandate, they've bungled things so badly."
After having said that, the Monkey King disappeared in a cloud of sparkles, while from overhead, one could hear a "yahoo!" as he sped off to the west.
"Do you think we should warn China?" Naurelin asked.
Kenta snorted. "No."
"Keep popcorn available?"
"Yes."
"So… About the Endbringers…"
- - - - - - - - - - - -
He appeared in a darkened room. The curtains had been drawn, which left the spartan room in darkness. He was standing next to a futon which had been rolled up, the bedding having been placed into a nearby closet. A thin layer of dust covered things in the room. There was a chest of drawers on one side of the room, and a locked box nearby.
"I know this place," the figure in the
shozoku said to himself, looking around. Sliding open the top drawer, he found the key to the chest under some clothes that would no longer fit him. Placing the key into the lock on the chest, he turned it, hearing the lock click. He turned it until it clicked twice more, which disarmed the trap before opening the chest.
Inside were a few belongings of his previous life. A long, sharp knife. A picture of him with a friend whose memory was close enough he could almost come up with a name. Some money, which would be useful if he needed something and his lord wouldn't provide.
He closed the box, and turned the key three times to lock it and arm the trap. He turned and looked at the mirror on top of the chest of drawers. In the dim light, he could see the masked figure, dressed in a
shozoku, usually used by stagehands for
Kabuki and
Noh plays but sometimes used for traveling at night or night actions.
He took off the hood and scarf to see his face. The face had a reddish tinge to it, and a pair of horns grew from his forehead, one on each temple. The tips of fangs protrude from his mouth, barely visible. What hair he might've had was trimmed short. There was nothing left to soften any of his features. The training of the masters of Iga had taken what was unnecessary and removed it from his being, the impurities burned away over many months of arduous, torturous training.
No longer was he Oni Lee, a man who'd assumed the name when he'd become a Cape. He had become an Oni named Lee and the man he had been, Fujiwara Akira, was no more. His karma had led him to suffer as he had made others suffer. His final actions, killing the madwoman Bakuda, had done some to alleviate that, leaving him with years under Shuten-Doji's tutelage, then those of the Iga masters.
And now, he was back in the world. He needed to find out what had changed in the time he'd been gone. Find out if the Dragon still was in charge, and most importantly, which dragon it was. If the Dragon had orders for him, he would carry them out as needed. If not, he would try to get on with his life, which may now be more complicated because of his inhuman features.
Still, he could afford to be patient, and would wait until the cover of darkness to find his answers.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Kenta and Naurelin sat and regarded each other in silence for a moment. "So, Kenta-
san, if Lung is dead, what do we call you when you decide to reveal that you're a dragon?"
He arched an eyebrow at the question. "That is something I had not given a great amount of thought to," he answered. "I was intent on completing my task and not dying trying to protect my charge. The fact that I earned my claim to actually become a
Tien Lung, or Celestial Dragon was almost secondary to getting the job done and not falling from the path."
"You do know that the PRT and Protectorate will want to assign you a name, if only to make the record keeping easier."
Kenta snorted in amusement. "As if I care about that."
"And the question important to me: Do you want the leadership of your organization back?"
"No," he answered. "You won it from me in honorable combat, and until such time I decide I want to engage in another such contest for its leadership, it is yours to deal with. As it is, you appear to have done an excellent job of it, and have managed to keep the various Asian groups from killing each other off."
"Prosperity, peace and calm backed with steel and fire often do that," Naurelin stated. "Everyone reaps the benefits, and no one wants to make a dragon upset. Even the small ones."
"That sounds as if there is a story there."
"Oh, there is," Naurelin said, chuckling. "A couple of random criminals tried to rob a street vendor. It happened to be an ice cream truck that Mizuchi liked, and she used the power of puppy dog eyes to make the two decide to give up without a shot, and confess to everything bad they've done since they were five years old."
- - - - - - - - - - - -
From the shrine office, both Inari and Miss Militia smiled as they heard the laughter of Kenta and Naurelin.
"She probably told him about Mizuchi using her dreaded puppy dog eyes on a couple of thugs holding up an ice cream truck," she said. "It was hilarious in retrospect."
Her host chuckled. "I can see that, having dealt with my own daughters. More tea?"
"Yes, please."
"I do have something to tell you, though," her host said as he poured. "First is that my name is Inari." At the startled look she gave him, he sighed. "Yes,
that Inari. The second is that something is coming. It means to end everything; hero and villain, innocent and guilty. Sacrifices will need to be made in many ways, and the world will be changed in some way, for good or ill. Everyone in this city will be involved, to one degree or another.
"The worst case scenario is that everything in this reality strand ends," Inari finished.
Miss Militia sighed as she put down her teacup. "No pressure, then."
"No more than anything else in life."
