Chapter 16. Homecoming

SHINOBI RANKS

Within Shinobi clans, there exists a common ranking system, with only minor deviations between even the most geographically far-flung branches.

The first shinobi rank is that of an Initiate. These members do not see active service, and are usually aged between six and thirteen. At this stage they will learn the basics of Shinobi-no-jutsu and weapons training, as well as survival skills.

Should the Initiate be deemed skilled enough, they will progress to the rank of Genin. The Genin will go on to learn the use of poisons, fire tools and explosives, as well as be sent out on low-risk missions. Genin are typically aged thirteen to sixteen, and at this point they are considered full members of their clan. If the initiate is considered too inept to become a Genin, they will be sent back to their family. This failure is not looked upon with scorn by most communities due to the usefulness of their already-learned skills.

The next shinobi rank is Chunin. These shinobi usually acquire one kind of seal, and are allowed to take on missions of any type. Chunin make up the majority of most Shinobi clans.

The next rank for shinobi is the Jounin. These are senior shinobi, and normally possess two or more seals. These shinobi serve as both active clan members and mentors. Dolorem held this rank, prior to being taken into the House of Mist. His rank became largely irrelevant after this point, as he now operated separately from his clan.

Finally, there are master shinobi. This rank is given to exceptional shinobi, in recognition of their ability. They also wear a distinguishing uniform to denote their rank. This rank is functionally no different to a Jounin, but masters are usually more respected within their clans than their lower ranking counterparts.

Dolorem spent the next three days trekking across the countryside, barely sleeping, barely even thinking. Driven solely by a desire to end the violence. When he reached the prefecture outskirts, he decided to pay a visit to his old shinobi monastery. His armour was filthy, torn and bloodsoaked. Perhaps his master would even be happy to see him. He laid low, avoiding main roads to reach the complex, painfully aware of how his appearance would draw unwanted attention. The walk was only two hours from the border, and he made his final approach through a densely forested patch of land, entirely unseen.

He crept around the outer wall, their base of operations was a repurposed country manor, now heavily fortified and extended. He got to the main gate and knocked on the door. A slit in the gate opened, and looked him up and down. The slit shut and the gate opened.

Dolorem bowed and entered the monastery. The usual bustle of training and the running of the facility fell silent. Students and full shinobi alike stopped to stare at Dolorem. When he had left, he was a fresh-faced young man of 17. The man striding along the central walkway was someone more deeply harrowed than the most seasoned of their masters. A man in his fifties emerged from the central building, despite his age, he would easily pass for thirty, still in possession of a full head of black hair, and of wiry build.

"Dolorem." He said. You've become quite infamous of late."

Dolorem bowed low to the man who had taught him from the very beginning. "Master Khan. I come to you now asking for aid in restoring peace. Solomon is a traitor to this land, he's killed my parents and tried to have me and my wife executed. Now I seek justice in their name."

Kahn furrowed his brow, thinking deeply. "How am I to believe that you speak the truth, and you aren't the Treasonous Serpent of Red Pines, hmm?"

"I have no physical evidence of his treason, Master, but what I do have is proof of my justice." He drew his sword, a gale emanating from the blade, throwing about fallen leaves in the courtyard. Tapping into the Orochi's power, he shifted into his hybrid form, adorned with white dragonscale, regal in appearance and presence.

"I am the vessel of the Orochi, protector of this land in a bygone age. I wield his sword, the same one with which it fended off giants, long before humanity. It came to me in my time of need, and saw justice in my cause."

Kahn nodded to a subordinate and bowed to Dolorem. "That is proof enough. Our library holds a scroll foretelling The Orochi's return." The student reappeared, clutching the frayed paper roll. Kahn opened it and showed Dolorem. "As stated, The Snake and The Bull will once again clash. The Bull being Manus in this case, correct?"

A weight seemed to press down on Dolorem. Was he fated to fight Manus once more?

"Correct," he said, "we fought once before, prior to me becoming a vessel."

"Then it's settled." Kahn announced. "You are welcome here, as my student and a vessel of The Orochi. What we can do to help you we will."

He raised his voice to address the courtyard. "Shinobi one and all, bear witness! Before us stands the vessel of the Orochi, Five-Seals Dolorem. From this day forth he is a Master Shinobi, and you shall treat him as such. A dark cloud has fallen over our land and it is by his sword that it will be dispelled. Dolorem will slay the traitors and return the order of things to the way they should be!"

Dolorem stood in awe as the entire monastery bowed to him. He felt deeply insecure, standing in bloodstained rags before them. He bowed in response.

After this, Dolorem was invited to stay the night at the monastery. He took a bath and discarded his tattered robes. He was provided with a master's room, garb and a meal, alongside full access to the armoury. He looked at the racks on racks of weaponry. He was taken back to the very first time he held a sword, when he was ten, maybe twelve years old and able for weapons training. In fact that same shortsword was still there, where it belonged. Still in its black leather sheath, he picked it up and inspected it. It was still as bright and keen as it was eleven years ago. He inserted it into his belt. It would do an excellent job as his offhand companion once again.

Dolorem went to the garden after this to meditate. He looked at his reflection in the pond. He barely recognised himself. He wore the trademark navy haori and white scarf of a master, but he felt no different to an initiate. As he sat at the side of the pond, his mind wandered to the reality of his situation.

He would be a father, a thought that frightened him to his core. What if he couldn't raise his child properly? What if they grew up and came to resent him for his past? How would he even tell them about what happened, was it better to keep the truth from them?

He was shaken from his thoughts by Kahn approaching. He sat down beside Dolorem, cross legged. "You have a lot on your mind, don't you?"

Dolorem nodded. "You could say that."

Kahn looked.down into the pond, as a koi lazily circled near the surface. "It's only natural, given your situation."

"I'm going to be a father, sir." Dolorem blurted. "How do I raise a child? And that's if I survive the next few days."

"Dolorem, tell me something, do you love your wife?" Kahn asked

"Of course, more than I thought I could anymore." Dolorem asserted. "But I've put her in so much danger, and I can't do that to her anymore, let alone a child."

"Did you protect her? She's obviously still alive."

"She was well capable of standing her ground herself, but yes, I did everything I could."

"Then that's all you need. Material things aside, if you can protect and love your son or daughter, they'll need nothing more. Don't worry, you aren't defined by the things you've done as a shinobi, your measure is why you did them."

A single tear rolled down Dolorem's face. "Master, if anything were to happen to myself or Lilith, if we weren't there, would you take them in?"

"Of course, Dolorem, you're as much my child to me as to your father. After all, I've raised you from the age of six. And of course,if you ever want to bring the grandchildren around, you're welcome to." Kahn chuckled.

"Yeah…," Dolorem sighed, the mention of his parents reopening old wounds. "I'd like that"

"Get some sleep, you'll need it for what comes next." Kahn said, getting up to leave.

"Master?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

***

Lilith and Venari had managed to find passage to the Adjudicator's demesne with relative ease. By packing her cloak into a knapsack, wrapping up her sword and generally watching her language, Venari passed as a retainer. The two sat in the back of a carriage, purchased by yet another letter of credit, as it rattled along the roads toward the foothills of the green marble range, where their borders lay.

"You don't act rich for someone who can afford all this, Lilith." Venari said at one point.

"Do I want to know what you consider rich person behavior?" Lilith asked, amused.

"Only saying, I've seen a lot more spent on anything and everything by people with half your resources."

"My family still works for a living I suppose. We haven't had noble status for all that long. I certainly won't encourage mine to change that." Lilith said, looking out the window at miles upon miles of plains.

"And Dolorem, is he the extravagant type?"

"Dolorem grew up poor, and even during his service to Solomon he'd spend weeks at a time foraging or living off food pills for missions. He never got comfortable with being comfortable. Obsessed with cleanliness though. Always polishing his equipment, or reordering his room, you know?"

"A noble marrying a man who eats out of bushes and does his own cleaning. You couldn't write it." Venari narrated.

"Shut up," Lilith chuckled. "I'd take him over most noblemen."

"What would it take for you to pick a nobleman?" Venari asked.

"If all the other men in the world, all of the women and a few animals, maybe even a tree or two dropped dead, I'd think about it. My family doesn't push for marriage inside of caste or anything."

"Hmm," Venari grunted. "Fair enough."

At another time Venari questioned Lilith again, this time over her own place in the conflict. "So," Venari said, "do you ever worry about if you're on the wrong side?"

"Me? Not really." Lilith answered. "I mean, I don't like the idea of taking lives for any set of ideals, but at the end of the day, I'll do what I have to for survival."

"You don't value the lives of your enemies as much as yours, then?"

"Hmmm, well, not really, no. I suppose it's just the rules of nature, I was stronger, so I survived. I'd rather have never had to fight, but here we are." Lilith explained.

"That wasn't a criticism, Adjudicator. It's actually refreshing to see someone admit just that. Especially once you heard Rhodri attempt to explain killing away as justice for the fifteenth time." Venari said. "And I've no right to judge, really. Does Dolorem do the same?"

"No, strangely. He explains it as being necessary to protect what's important, but an evil act nonetheless, and because he has the capability for acts of great evil, he has the capability for good. As he sees it, weak people aren't good or bad, but deserve protection. Only the strong can be good or bad, because only they have the means to enact good and evil."

"Dolorem puts too much time into thinking about these things."

"Yes, yes he does."

"Is there much further to go?"

"Only a few hours."

When the two women arrived at the House of the Adjudicators, Lilith's parents were waiting outside. They had awaited their daughter's return eagerly, and now that she was here they embraced their girl tearfully, before regaining composure and welcoming Venari.

Lilith turned to her mother. "We need to send for this woman's daughter, she's currently living with a merchant family in the Coarse Plains District. "Of course," her mother answered, "but first, come in, please, make your friend at home."

She turned to Venari. "Pleasure to meet you…"

"Venari."

"Venari, I am Nira of the Adjudicators, and this is Claudius. We welcome you to our home. You must have had quite the adventure."

Venari instinctively pulled away. "Thank you. I'm afraid I haven't much to tell."

"Lilith," Claudius asked, "what happened to your eye?" He held her face, inspecting the prosthetic.

"It's been a strange few weeks, father. My eye, although different, is an upgrade."

"How so?"

Lilith called forth Hinokami, the translucent plane of amber hovering beside her head.

***

Dolorem stood on the crest of a hill overlooking the House of Mist. He felt oddly numb, not knowing what the result of the night would be. There was no going back regardless. There would be casualties, likely collateral damage. This was his home.

The night enveloped the countryside, and Dolorem made his advance. He knew every inch of the place, guard rotations, security measures, all of it. He'd organised the majority of them. If he was lucky, he'd be able to slip in undetected. He made his way to a blind spot in the outer wall, scaling it and taking cover in nearby shrubbery. The nearest guard post only covered the internal courtyard. He crept along the wall, obscured by shrubbery.

He felt a strange presence from within the main building. Magical energy radiating out from Solomon's quarters, no doubt from the Mark of Mist. He had a strong illusion active, likely affecting anyone within the radius. He couldn't sense any guards, nor hear them. Anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach.

The Orochi echoed his concern. "The troops could be under a concealing spell, or that illusion could be security enough." Dolorem thought hard. He needed a safe way to reconnoiter the building, before he risked exposure to the spell.

Then it hit him. He could block out the illusion, but at a cost. The Mark of Mist could only affect creatures or constructs with magical energy. He could suppress his own to the point of being unaffected, so was his control of that energy, but he'd lose access to his jutsu, the Orochi, and the Sword of Gathering Clouds would likely kill him without the ability to insulate himself from its power. It was a gamble, to be sure, but one that he'd have to make.

"Dolorem," The Orochi said, then paused. "Be careful."

"I will"

Dolorem made the necessary seals, expelling his magical energy from his body. A sickening wave of pain swept through him, radiating out from his stomach. He wouldn't be able to replenish it until he was done. He'd rely solely on his martial skills and ninjutsu. Once his vision had cleared, he approached the building, drawing a kunai and searching for the souterrain exit. He found the vague track of a trapdoor under the dirt. The other end was hidden beneath a mat in the main hall. Had he not lived there, he wouldn't have known where to look.

Scrabbling in the dry earth, he pulled up the rope handle and lowered himself into the tunnel. It was totally dark, but fortunately straight and the tunnel floor had no trip hazards. He felt his way along, somewhat unsteady, the total dark disorienting. He found the opposite end nonetheless. He pushed the trapdoor up a crack to check for guards. The room was empty, eerily so. Gently he pushed open the trapdoor, and emerged. Just then, he felt a sharp pain in his neck, like a knife wound. He put his hand to his neck, realising that a deep gash had been opened, as the world around him seemed to disintegrate. He found himself standing before an emaciated Solomon, restrained by guards, one with a spear to his throat

The illusion had taken hold before he breached even the outer wall. The whole infiltration, it had all been an elaborate lie. Solomon lay back, like a waxwork in his chair, sucking in thin breaths. The mark was taking its toll on him. "Dolorem." He wheezed. "Did you really think you'd be so lucky as to break in here undetected?"

Dolorem ignored the jab, he was desperately searching the room for his weapons. He hadn't actually performed magic suppression, it only affected the illusion. The wound in his neck had closed entirely already. There were nearly twenty soldiers in the room, alongside retainers filling needles to administer medicine to Solomon. Even with The Orochi, he doubted fighting was a wise choice.

Solomon stood up, shaking. He crossed the room toward the restrained Dolorem, drawing his sealing-knife from his belt, the same that nearly killed him weeks earlier. Dolorem broke into a cold sweat. He didn't have many options, his hands were bound, and he had no means to defend himself.

He racked his brain trying to find a defensive tactic as Solomon switched his knife into a backhand grip, readying himself to strike. Then Dolorem remembered something. Lilith's one-handed seals. He could vaguely recollect her fire seal. It didn't matter if it was messy work, he'd be able to sow chaos. He formed the seal, flames bursting from his hand, burning him, but also his hempen rope bindings. He tore apart the smouldering fiber and took on the claws of The Orochi, lancing straight through Solomon's ribcage, and gripping his heart.

The guards had little time to react before he ripped it out. Vermillion blood poured forth. Dolorem had killed his attacker, but his attacker hadn't been Solomon. One of Dolorem's own retainers fell dead at his feet. Solomon was still slung in his chair, malice burning deep within sunken eyes. "Such a shame, Dolorem, he really looked up to you. Your betrayal broke his heart, and now, well, there's little chance of it healing."

Dolorem shook with rage, he felt his heart quicken, breathing becoming raspy. Anger boiled and tore at his insides, like briars growing in his lungs. He felt pure bloodlust. Launching himself through the spears of the guards, he raced toward Solomon, only for what looked at his mother and father to step in between the two of them, face streaked with tears. "Dolorem, please…" his mother's tearful voice begged. She was clutching a tiny knife in her shaking hands. Dolorem relented, the face of his late mother shaking him to his core. His father's semblance carried a shortsword, hesitantly guarding her.

It was moments later that he felt the sting of a spear in his back, twisting flesh and tearing him with wicked barbs. Instinctively he turned and snapped the shaft, slashing in nearly a full circle, the range of his claws given ruinous extension by magic. The raw force gouged deep trenches in the walls, floors and humans alike. Dolorem turned to Solomon, still sitting in the chair. The corpses of his parents were nowhere to be seen, instead two servants lay dead. He barreled toward Solomon, pouncing onto the chair, and ripping his throat out. Crimson rain splattered the ceiling.

To his horror, when he looked down at the corpse, it wasn't Solomon. It was Lilith, or a cruel imitation of her. It was nearly accurate, yet somehow sickeningly wrong. Her eye was still there. Still, the very idea he'd killed Lilith shocked him. He surveyed the room, full of advancing guards, with Solomon now apparently at the opposite end. There was only one way to guarantee he died. Dolorem charged at the guards as their appearances morphed into twisted caricatures of people he knew. He killed them regardless, it didn't matter what they looked like, what voices cried out, that they were human beings regardless, Dolorem slaughtered them indiscriminately.

He killed Lilith five times, his father seven, his master three, and mother four. He killed scores of comrades and friends, ripping them asunder with fang and claw, becoming death incarnate. Once he'd ripped the last guard's throat out with his fangs, he stood up, feeling nothing but more rage, a need to destroy more. He didn't need to simply die, he needed to be expunged from history, every lingering trace if his existence scourged from the earth.

Solomon stood in the centre of the room now, looking over the tangled mass of corpses. "Is this your definition of justice, Dolorem?" Dolorem slashed at him only for him to dissipate, reforming a few feet away. "What just man tears his parents and wife asunder for vengeance?"

Another slash, another miss.

"Am I such a monster for avoiding a war with the North? A war we'd lose?"

Dolorem felt acidic rage dissolving his sense of self.

"Are you a hero for condemning these people to the grave by killing me?"

Dolorem felt darkness swallowing his heart, the claws of his shadow raking his psyche, begging to be let in.

"Look at you, nothing more than a kicked dog snapping at anyone who approaches. Killing you would be a mercy on the world."

Dolorem collapsed to his knees, shaking and drenched in sweat, curling into a ball, trying to scrape together his sanity. There was nothing left in his heart and soul. There was only revenge.

"Amatsu-Mikaboshi…" he whispered."

"Manifest."