Narasimha: The Chalk of Fate

[Takaki Saeko]

Inner Sagishi-Souru, capital of Taehan Ming’guk, or Bear Country
…one week ago

Chung-Hee, the Bringer of Ice, pressed his palm against the growing crimson stain on his jacket and slumped against the grimy sidewalls of an alley. One of the sentries had landed a lucky potshot, and now if Chung-Hee let go, the sucking chest wound would suffocate him from the inside. He cursed his bad joss: things had been going well until he’d fucked up and reached for the Slate without thinking about the possibility of invisible tripwire alarms. Now, instead of sauntering out of the royal treasury like a boss, he was on the run like a common thief, and bleeding like a stuck pig.

He’d waited months for the opportunity to strike. Regent Mishil never left the Slate out of her sight, and in fact spent most of her time alone gazing at and caressing the damned thing. But the queen, Ekaterina Haninozuka, had created possibility out of impossibility. Just a few hours prior, she’d been rushed to the national hospital because she’d tried to slit her wrists. That was the only reason Mishil had parted company from her precious artifact, and was now on her way to the hospital to offer “support,” or as Chung-Hee reasoned, probably just more abuse.

Though in physical agony, Chung-Hee’s eyes filled with tears for a different reason. Your Majesty, you didn’t have to go to such extremes, he thought to himself as he wiped his eyes with a blood-smeared sleeve. I just asked for a distraction, not for you to…to hurt yourself so grievously. And in your third trimester of pregnancy, too! Fie! Had I known you’d harm yourself, I’d never have brought the subject up! Damn me for being so careless, and damn me again for fucking up and getting shot!

He quickly pulled his pistol out of its holster and checked the remaining cartridges in the magazine. Wounded as badly as he was, his prana was of no use, and he wouldn’t be able to summon ice easily. The gun was his last line of defense. He chuckled at the irony of being no more powerful than any commoner, at this point. What I’d give to have another shinobi helping me out right now. Even…ugh…even Shinrya Kitsune.

Footfalls and shouts closing in meant he had to move again. He only had another few blocks to make it to the handoff point. Then, he’d have done his part for the nation and his queen. And then I can die easy. Tama, you’d better not screw up as badly as I have. A flashlight beam pierced the darkness beside him, and Chung-Hee bolted upright, leveled his pistol at the approaching guardsman, and fired.

Crimson spurted from the man’s chest. As he fell, he squeezed off a three-round burst from his Avtomat and sent bullets flying. One of the rounds cut right into Chung-Hee’s thigh and the shinobi gasped in pain. The other pursuers shouted, dove into cover, and fired blindly back. Chung-Hee ducked, turned and hobbled down the alleyway, leaving an even thicker blood trail behind him.

A few minutes later, he hobbled up to a barred doorway blocking off a run-down tenement and rapped the butt of his pistol against it. A viewing port slid open a moment later, to reveal Haikuno’s eyes behind it.

“You’re injured.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Chung-Hee rasped, and shoved a cloth-wrapped package through the viewport. “I got the Slate. Now make sure it gets to Mochizuki Tama.”

“Hold on, I’ll open the door. You need help,” Haikuno said.

“No! Too many guards after me. I have to lead them away from here, or all is lost.”

“You’ll die.”

Chung-Hee laughed. “I only regret that I have one measly life to give for Her Majesty. Now do your part. I’ll make sure her pain doesn’t go to waste.” With that, he scurried away. Behind him, the viewport closed.

He took a meandering path, firing his pistol occasionally to alert his pursuers as to where he was. That’s right, keep following me, you stupid, disloyal curs. I know the slums better than any of you lot! Finally, after his wounded leg refused to budge further, he hopped and hobbled to the edge of an overlook. Down below thundered the mighty and treacherous currents of the Han River on its last dash to the bay. Every so often, an unfortunate citizen fell into the drink, whether from suicidal tendencies or simply being too drunk in the wrong place. The bodies were usually never found. But that was what Chung-Hee counted on.

He propped himself against the guardrail as a dozen of his country's elite musketeers advanced on him with their rifles leveled and bayonets gleaming. “Well, what are you waiting for, you bastards?” Chung-Hee said, flashing them a bloody smile. “Aren’t you curious about how it feels to kill a shinobi?”

Instead of firing, though, the soldiers quickly parted to let someone through their midst. Chung-Hee clenched his jaw to see who it was: the regent Mishil.

She tilted her head and gave her stricken quarry what could almost have been mistaken as a compassionate look. “Tsk tsk, what a night! First, my dear little sister tries something incredibly foolish, and then one of my servants dares to filch from me? Give the Slate back, and I’ll be merciful. I’ll even consider letting you go with…a warning.”

“How’s Her Majesty, the rightful Queen of Bear?” Chung-Hee snarled.

“Why, I’m fine, if a little annoyed at you all,” Mishil said. “But if you’re mistakenly referring to my little sister, the pretender, I just came back from visiting her. I gave her some sisterly guidance for next time: cut up the artery, not across.”

“You should take your own advice, then,” Chung-Hee said with a chuckle. Blood streamed down from one of the corners of his mouth and he spat at Mishil’s feet.

“My patience grows thin, shinobi. Give me the Slate. Now.”

Chung-Hee gripped the guardrail with one hand and with the other, flashed Mishil his middle finger. “You can take it from my cold, dead hands. Long live the True Queen!” With that, he pulled himself over the top and plummeted into the raging waters below.

* * *​

Kumogakure no Sato, Kaminari no Kuni, of Lightning Country
…current day

“Saeko, pick up.”

How about no?

“Saeko, I know you can hear me. Your radio ce n’est pas broken!”

I briefly consider smashing the headset on the ground. Like usual, Uchiha Sei is trying to shirk her duties. She’ll tell me some horrible bullshit’s just happened at home and that she needs to leave right now to fix it and how it’s so nice of me to cover for her for the rest of the day. Because she once did the nasty with dear old Dad a million years ago, she feels like I’m totally cool with her chronic, slackadaisical outlook on life and work.

”Saeko, pick up immediatement! Zis is not le drill!”

Jesus Saito in a banana hammock, this lady doesn’t quit! I reach over, grab my headset, and mush the squishy end against my face. “What is it now? Aion’s at the gates and we need to hide our wives? Nara Ryuujin’s come back from the 1980’s and wants to show us the wonders of cocaine? Kanye West wants to run for Chancellor in four years but needs all our money to make it happen?”

“Non! And don’t you dare badmouth mon amour Kanye. Zere is a man down here who insists zat he needs to give something to Mochizuki Tama, and only Tama. I told him to ‘le fuck off’ since ze last thing Tama-chi needs is some sweaty, greasy otaku trying to give her a handful of seme—”

“Enough!” I shake my head. “Look, I still don’t see what this has to do with me. I’m still on break, you know. Just tell him to leave, and if he doesn’t, release the hounds or something.”

“Aren’t you one of ze troupe’s managers?”

“No, I’m not. That’s just something I tell people so that Tomo doesn’t get death threats from fujoshi for daring to walk with a woman in public.” Whether men or women, idol otaku are seriously deranged.

“Oh, well, zat’s fine,” Sei says. “I already sent him to your office! Au revoir!”

“You what?” I shout into the mic, but by then it’s too late and Sei’s cut off the transmission. I look up just in time for the door to my office (okay, really, cubicle with a door) to slam open. In marches a goggled, masked man clad in traveling rags and smelling of piss, vomit, and blood. I draw my sidearm and point it at him, because holy shit I’m not getting raped by a hobo today. “Hands in the air! Identify yourself!”

“Where’s Tama?” he grunts. “Dammit, this should teach me never to trust a Frenchman. Er, Frenchwoman.”

“Whoa, buddy,” I say. “You still haven’t done what I asked. You mind backing off and telling me who you are? Or do I have to plug you in the knee? You’ll never be an adventurer again.”

He sighs and steps back. “You look familiar. Like someone I’ve fought before. Say…you wouldn’t be related to Santaru Rin, would you?”

“I don’t have to tell you shit. Now tell me who you are and what you want with Tama.”

He laughs. “Relax, I’m not a missing-nin, and I intend no harm for the young diva. I need to give her something, and then I’ll leave.”

“You can leave it with me. I’ll make sure she gets it. Promise.”

“Can’t do that. This is for Tama’s eyes only.”

I shrug. “Then you have ten seconds to run before I push the silent alarm and get three Sennin plus possibly the Kage himself to dogpile you. After you’re dead, they’ll even steal your wallet and laugh at your dick. That’s kind of how we do business in Cloud.”

“Yeah, I know all about the strong picking on the weak in this place. Alright, let’s cut the shit." He pulls down his mask and takes off his goggles to reveal his face. "My name is Haikuno. As in, ‘Kingslayer’ Haikuno. Tama can vouch for my identity. And if you call her here to see me, I’ll give myself up to the authorities without a fight. You’ll get credit for taking down a national nightmare. I think my heads's still worth about sixty billion double-dollars...”

My eyebrows twitch and I give him a dumbfounded, probably stupid look. There’s no way an actual Kingslayer is standing in front of me. The group was eradicated in Tenouza years ago. My father died to destroy their leader. Still, rumors persisted that a few had gotten away. Among them, a younger man named Haikuno. If the wretch standing in front of me really is him, then I might even stand to earn a ridiculous bounty. I’ll be rich enough to never have to listen to Yumers again. And that is worth any price.

“Whatever, 'Vash.' I can call Tama, but there’s no guarantee she’ll come,” I say. “What do you have for her?”

“I have something that can help save the life of Haninozuka Ekaterina and her child.”

What the fuck? What does he know about the Bear Queen? My thoughts race back to that fateful day in Sagishi-Souru. When we tried, inadvertently to assassinate their regent. “Hold still, then. Any sudden moves and I blast you.” I say, and reach for my headset. I dial in Tama’s frequency. “Tama, it’s Saeko. Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed in sector seven-G. Someone who claims to know you says he has information that could help the Queen of Bear. Try to see if you can bring Tomo along. He’ll be interested, if any of this is true. And we'll want him here if this turns into a fight.”

 

[Suzuki Setsu]

“Tama, it’s Saeko. Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed in sector seven-G. Someone who claims to know you says he has information that could help the Queen of Bear. Try to see if you can bring Tomo along. He’ll be interested, if any of this is true. And we'll want him here if this turns into a fight.”


Tama had been in the shower when the call had come. Her headset wasn't on her person, though the Mochizuki was well attuned to the vibrations of air humans interpret as sound at this point in her shinobi career. Without bothering to grab a towel she rushed to grab the device, and responded immediately, “I'll be right there. I'll grab Tomo on the way.” A quick flourish of handseals and a brisk gust of wind whirled around the chuunin, leaving her dry as a bone. She rushed into Tomo’s room loudly shouting, “Get out of bed, bro! Someone’s flirting wth Saecchi, trying to give her his package!” Leaving Tomo with that barebones summary of the situation, she flew back to her room, grabbing her outfit as she left the compound.


Donning her mission gear on for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the past few weeks, she was glad that it was starting to fit her again, the first time she had equipped it after the debacle in the library with Komora it hadn’t felt right. Her muscles had somewhat atrophied in the six months straight she had spent only studying, and the constant gamut of missions she had been forced to run to pay for the damages to the library and the medical costs billed to her by Ketsueki had been a rather rude wake-up call and return to the world of super-human assassins. Rude, but effective. Trial by fire suited Tama just fine. She had succeeded, maybe with a little less flair as she usually would have, but letting everyone know the obvious fact that she had succeeded seemed to be a waste of time that could be better spent saving those she cared about.


The gates were in sight now, Tama was now fully dressed, and Tomo would soon be bellowing in like a bull in a china shop. If there was one thing about which the polar opposite twins were in complete agreement oh, it was that no one fucked with their loved ones. Except them of course. “Let’s get this party started,” Tama muttered with a grim smile on her face.


The chuunin found Saeko with the grin of someone who has just won the lottery, and the cool, composed face of Haikuno standing idly to the side. “Well you’re oddly comfortable sitting in the middle of a legion of super-humans who all would be more than happy to lop your head off, no questions asked,” Tama remarked, relaxing a bit. “Though if the wanted posters are any indication, I’d say you’re free to probably take the grand tour, minus the visit to King Yum-Yum. Saecchi, why didn’t you say Yum-Yum was Raikage. His lectures are so damn long-winded. And guilt-trippy. He’s nearly as good at getting people to do stuff for him as your dad was.” The absence of a retort from a certain snarky icicle-brain, caused Tama’s face to show a hint of worry, “I don’t see Chung-hee. I thought the plan was for you to remain incognito, mister terrorist? Cabin fever get you?”

[MFT WC: 567]

 

[Tanuki Rinko]

Tomo didn't remember his dream. All he could recall was the loud pounding of footsteps approaching his room, followed by a gust of wind as his tent flap fluttered open. He refused to open his eyes. If I don't see her, she doesn't exist. But closed eyes does not mean closed ears. There was a stillness in the air as Tama ran from the room, her statement lingering in Tomo's mind. Instantly his eyes flew open, a jolt of lightning flickering from his sudden burst of rage.

He jumped from his bed and ran out the tent, ink tendrils trailing behind for a moment as they collected his things. The tentacles dressed him as he rushed through the compound and he was fully clothed by the time he reached the first official building of the village. Tomo opened the notebook he carried and yanked a few pages out of it. They formed together into a Streaming Cloak, which he strapped around his neck. Using his wind jutsu, he leapt into the air and began to glide through Kumogakure.

To the less perceptive, it appeared the man was a bird, or a large mechanical flying device that could carry humans if the technology of the world would advance further. But most saw a man with his arms stretched forward suspended by thin ink wires pulling himself between buildings. Normally Tomo would have been trailing far behind his sister, but the only true limitations Tomo had were the ones he placed on himself, which he often lose when Saeko was involved. Thus he followed close behind Tama as they made their way to the Torres Celeste. Unlike his sibling, however, Tomo didn't have the decency to take the stairs. He wrapped his body in ink before bursting through Saeko's office. The barrier went through a phase transition, catching the shattered glass in its semi-solid form before clattering onto the ground when it fully liquefied. Tomo tumbled once before drawing his bow on the mystery man in front of Saeko. "No one shoves their package into my girlfriend's face." Tomo momentarily wondered if he could get away with saying he sneezed and accidently let loose an arrow that just happened to land in the guy's forehead.

This thought was lost when Tama entered, who instantly addressing the man as if she knew him. Tomo's arms fell as he took in the situation. Slowly his hand lifted to his face when everything sunk it. "Why do I even believe you anymore?" A tongue from his mouth gave his nose a lick of comfort, which of course only added to his embarrassment. The caped crusader turned towards the mess he'd made on the carpet and began to pick up the glass in a broody manner. "I'll just...be over here...cleaning up my mess..." Never again would Tomo use his twin as his Damsel in Distress detector.

[WC: 480]
[MFT]

 

[Takaki Saeko]

Everyone loves television because TV is mostly devoid of those time-consuming, asinine moments that infest our horrible reality called “life.” You know exactly what I’m talking about: standing in line at the post office while carrying a hundred pounds of shit to mail to grandma and there’s only one employee and five empty reception windows; sitting on hold for hours for preauthorization from the insurance company so you can get tested for that burning feeling you’ve been dreading during the morning whizz; and in my case, awkwardly holding a terrorist at gunpoint while waiting for the twins to show, and doing a bad job at making small-talk.

“So, um… while we’re waiting for her…” I’m trying to be kind to the man whose brains I might have to splatter on the wall. “What do you think of Tama’s new, uh, album?”

Haikuno snorts derisively. “I find it to be unpalatable, sugary pop-cancer. The distilled essence of our callous disregard for the downtrodden.”

Holey moley. Not only is he an international terrorist, he’s also an annoying hipster. I sigh. “Alright, then… Uh, hey, do you think Brady-san really deflated all those balls?”

“I don’t watch team sports. The whole affair is just rich men playing with modern-day gladiators before tossing the poor saps to the curb to die from concussions.”

“Dude, do you enjoy anything?”

“I think that most modern entertainment is merely a tool of the powers that be to keep society fat, poor, and dumb. That way, people don’t see the need for rebellion against the status quo.”

“Ah, you don’t say…” God-dangit, Bobby—I mean Tama—show up already. See? This is why I love TV: aggravating, boring moments like these are always edited out for my viewing pleasure.

I’m just about to troll Haikuno by telling him I voted for Donado of Oranji during the latest parliamentary elections (bet that’ll give our kingslayer an aneurysm), when the office window explodes into a thousand pieces of glass. I can do little else but barely shield my face from the fragments and hope one of them doesn’t get me in the eye.

Strangely, none of them actually gouge my flesh. Instead, they all splatter against me like harmless drops of water before falling away. I peep over my raised arms to see a blobby, ink-enveloped shape standing before the shattered window frame, and the first thing I can think to blurt out is: “Holy shit, it’s the Kool-Aid Man!”

Instead of letting out a cheerful “Oh Yeah!” the mascot in question drops the last of his covering to reveal none other than Tomo with his bow drawn and murder in his eyes. As I realize what he’s about to do, I frantically wave my hands and try to insert myself between them.

“Tomo, be cool! He’s not interested in me! He only wants to give it to Tama!” I blush as I realize what I’ve said. “Arg! What I meant to say is that he’s long and hard—I mean, he’s travelled long and hard to see her, so please don’t murder him ‘cause you’ll end up in ninja jail and I can’t afford to bail you out by myself so I’ll have to hire Dog the Bounty Hunter to put up the bond and he’s gonna lecture you about Jesus for the entire goddamn episode and probably cop a feel of your balls in the process and when I complain about it he’ll be all like ‘Yeah? What the fuck are you gonna do about it? My name is Dog and I have pepper spray and a very large wife!’ and—”

Tama saves me from tripping further over my own tongue by arriving by the civilized route: the stairs. I almost swoon in relief from seeing her, because it means payday is that much closer. When I get my reward money, I’ll be generous with those I know, but I’m totally going to spoil the shit out of Tomo. I’ll start with buying him his own recording studio. Nothing would make me happier than him retiring from the shinobi life to smoke a lot of weed and produce sub-par rap-rock while wearing nothing but wifebeater tees and janky trucker hats. We’ll be like K-Fed and Britney, minus the failure.

“Oh Tama, my love! I’m so glad you came, ‘cause now I’m gonna be real rich instead of pretend rich like that chick on who wants to marry a millionaire only the guy was actually a construction worker,” I say, throwing my arms around her. “And I told you a bunch of times that Yumers was president now, and he’s not a shitter because he’s long winded, he’s a shitter because he violated the harem-MC code: to never actually hook up with any of the girls! And especially not best girl Kahako! Oh, the nerve! I’ll never forgive that jerkoff! That…that fart-made-man!”

Haikuno clears his throat. “Sorry, Tama. Chung-Hee won’t be joining us today.” He shakes his head and assumes a sudden, heavy gravitas. “He perished to aid his nation. That is the reason I have come myself: to make absolutely sure that his sacrifice wasn’t in vain. To make sure this got to your hands.”

He reaches into a satchel and pulls out a package wrapped in oiled parchment, which he hands to Tama. It’s obviously heavy, seeing from her expression, and about the size and dimensions of a university textbook. Tama wastes no time in ripping the packaging to shreds like a kid at Saitomas, while Tomo sullenly cleans up after her. When she’s done with her gleeful demolition, she holds in her hands a stack of what look to be rectangular sheets of ebony stone, all bound together with dimeritium wire like pages of a book.

“Huh,” I say, momentarily forgetting my glee over Haikuno’s bounty as I inspect Tama’s present. “Stone books aren’t that uncommon, but this one beats the hell out of everything else I’ve seen, in terms of craftsmanship. Shit, Tama, look at the pages. They’re perfectly-cut, each one only a few millimeters thick, and whatever they’re made of seems hell of strong. And these designs on the cover…they’re all inlaid gold and orichalcum. Hey, Kingslayer, where’d you get this?”

Haikuno lets out a slow breath. “Chung-Hee passed it to me as his penultimate act. It has now been many months since our first encounter with Regent Mishil, and none of us are any closer to locating the Chalk of Fate that she desires. Chung-Hee, however, discovered that Mishil had in her possession the Chalk’s direct analogue: the Slate of Destiny, which you now hold in your hands. I reason that her owning the Slate is the reason she wants the Chalk so badly.

“Chung-Hee and Her Majesty the Queen hatched a plot to distract Mishil away from the Slate, and although he was successful in stealing it, he was discovered and chased down. He led the guards away from my location and threw himself into the Han, leading Mishil to believe that the Slate is now somewhere along the coastal estuary. She’s already sent tens of thousands of soldiers and laborers and divers to dredge the beaches in a frantic search.”

“Shit,” I frown. “So, what does it actually do?”

“Unfortunately, I have no idea,” Haikuno says with a shrug. “At first I thought it would give me some insight into either Mishil or the location of the Chalk, but if you open it, you’ll notice that the pages are unreadable.”

On cue, Tama opens the book (I’m sure Tomo’s got some derisive comment ready for his sister about reading and stuff), and we peer at the contents. Haikuno’s right, more or less: this is all useless. Most of what seems to be legible writing looks like incomprensible squiggles, and I swear that the rest of the contents are just obscene doodles. “Oh, that’s a cock and balls!” I say, pointing to a particularly-veiny-looking drawing of a man’s member. As my finger brushes against the page, it tingles. I reflexively withdraw, and inspect what’s on my fingertip. “Hm, looks like when you rub against writing on a chalkboard…”

“I noticed the same,” Haikuno says. “In fact, I experimented a bit. I tried to write my desires on one of the blank pages with simple chalk, but unfortunately, nothing happened.”

“What’d you write?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Just that Enishi won his revolution and that every shinobi in the world had perished.”

“Jesus! You definitely have to be locked up!”

“Well, nothing happened, so it’s a moot point!”

“Hey,” I say, flipping over another page. “Look at this one. Doesn’t it look kinda like a restaurant menu?” I peer closer at the squiggles. “Hey, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was the appetizer section at Timur’s Taco Temple… Even has the same goofy-ass khan mascot in the corner…”

Haikuno frowns. “What the hell is a taco temple?”

“Oh, it’s this little hole-in-the-wall joint that my dad used to take me to as a kid. They don’t actually serve tacos—that’s just a silly mistranslation because the guy who owns it doesn’t speak Kaminarijin that well. I sometimes go for lunch, you know, to keep the place in business. He’s always like, ‘Saeko, minii zurkh zovkhon cinii toloo tsokhildog, hahaha!’ and sometimes mutters to himself about sacking Baghdad and something about ‘that prick Bayezid.’ No idea what the hell he’s saying most of the time, but he gets my order right so he’s cool in my book.”

“Dammit,” Haikuno says and presses his palms to his face. “I thought perhaps you shinobi might know something more about the Slate, but I guess I was wrong… Ugh. It’s only a few weeks before the Queen delivers, too. Chung-Hee will have died in vain…”

 

[Suzuki Setsu]

Chung-hee’s dead? Tama couldn’t believe it. That man was too stubborn to die, he couldn’t have. Tama took the package and began to tear away the oiled wrappings to reveal what Haikuno would name as the Slate of Destiny. If this is what Mishil used to make herself immortal, give herself such powers, we could use it now to...to…, Tama stopped herself, handing the bound tome over for Saeko’s perusal. She wasn’t a complete idiot, six months of researching myths and legends surrounding the Chalk of Fate had taught her much. The title for the artifact, “Chalk of Fate” was the commonly accepted translation for the more ancient “Creta Fati.” Tama was no expert on the subject of ancient languages, even Kumogakure’s, but there were enough scholars at the Bibliotheca that pointed out the word “fatum,” here used in the genitive declension, could mean death as well as fate. Given the innate connection between the Chalk and Slate, Tama concluded that the same care should be taken with both artifacts and their abilities not used lightly.

“But what's the cost?” She muttered to herself as Saeko squinted at the weird illustrations and illegible scribbles that covered the surface of every page. She was angry. Mishil probably knew how to use the artifact, knew the costs and limits to its powers, and they knew squat. But Tama was also frustrated at herself. Someone died, and instead of respecting their sacrifice the first thing she thought of was to invalidate it. So what if the Slate could bring back Chung-hee, the price might be that the events leading to his demise would have never happened and the slate would still be in Mishil’s hands. They needed information, and Mishil definitely wasn’t sharing.

Saeko’s sudden outburst about the phallic appearance of certain designs in the book, and subsequent analysis of the material the book consisted of drew Tama out of her thoughts. Haikuno mentioned that after also realizing the similarities of the Slate to chalkboard, he tried writing on it with ordinary chalk. Though after hearing what he wrote, Tama laughed. “Saeko, that’s not what he wrote. Or at least not what he wrote first.” Tama knew that Haikuno had probably experienced the most loss out of everyone in the room, and if the temptation to try and use the Slate to bring back Chung-hee had hit her hard, she could only imagine how difficult it must be for Haikuno to resist. Not to mention Saeko, who might be thinking of her father. “Dead people should stay dead, let’s focus on saving the living.”

Luckily, Saeko once again was able to change the topic by mentioning food. “What’s a taco temple?” she asked in unison with Haikuno. After Saeko explained, Tama asked the next logical question, “Is the food any good? Oh wait, do they have choco-tacos?” Haikuno expressed his frustration at the seemingly lackadaisical attitude of the Kumo-nin, but Tama responded with, “Ah-ah-ah, getting lunch is part of the plan, Hai-hai. And trust me, sixty-three percent of the time my plans work one-hundred point two percent of the time. Don’t believe me? Ask my brother! Saecchi! Tomo! We’re going out for lunch!”

 

[Takaki Saeko]

"Now that you mention it, I was actually good and brought my lunch today, but..." I glance offhandedly in the direction of the communal office fridge--you know, the one that smells ever so slightly of cheese, shellac, and Nara Ryuujin's toenail clippings. Ugh. Who am I kidding? I can't bring myself to be excited about days-old chicken tenders from the Raikage's weekly staff luncheon. "Oh, fuck it! Let's go to the Taco Temple. I've been craving falafel drowned in tzatziki sauce for the entire morning. And hey, if Timur's not too busy, we can always ask him to take a look at this stone book thingy."

"That's 'Slate of Destiny' to you, shinobi." Haikuno says, wagging his finger disapprovingly. "Many good men and women died to obtain it, and--"

"You know, I heard choco-tacos give you a lot of gas," I say to Tama, purposely ignoring Haikuno's lecturing. "Something about the combination of ice cream with mole sauce and jalapenos, you know?"

"--it's important to not undermine the foundation of virtuous self-determination that my sensei Enishi died to protect, which is exactly what your'e doing right now--"

Ignoring him further, I press the intercom on my desk. "Sei-san, I'm taking lunch! You want anything from Timur's?"

"Mais ouiI Get me le deluxe lamb kebab avec hummus et plus de special spicy sauce, merci!" Sei responds from her office.

"--when the entire fate of a people lies in the hands of the least-qualified individuals that always spells disaster for human progress--"

"Tomo!" I say to my beau, linking arms with him. "Let's go babe. Easy on the garlic, okay? I want to sleep in the same room as you tonight."

As we head out of the office, Haikuno rolls his eyes and trudges along. He actually hasn't shut up yet, but I've stopped recording his words for posterity.

* * *​

Timur's place is kind of the definition of a dive eatery. The sort of place that gives Guy Fieri a hard-on because the walls are festooned with tchotchkes which are in turn covered with a thick layer of decades-old grease deposited by the palpable cloud of vaporized lard that socks you in the face when you open the door. In other words, I love it and it brings back memories. My father used to take me here to eat before I'd even entered the academy. I'd chow down on a piece of puff pastry and fantasize about the origins of all the swords and battle-damaged suits of armor bolted to the walls, while my father would sit at the bar, drinking hooch with Timur and talking in low-set tones. My father wasn't a man who relaxed easily around others, not even "civilians," but seemed to genuinely enjoy his time spent with the old proprietor. It's sad, but I haven't been here in many months, and that makes me feel guilty for some odd reason.

Today, the place is almost deserted save for a few ancients sitting at the corner tables staring at nothing with their coal-black eyes surrounded by a thousand wrinkles. Not a good thing for a restaurant to be this empty during a prime weekday lunch hour. As I pick out a table and pull out my chair, I can't help but feel more guilty that I haven't been here in a long time. But at least the smell is familiar, and reassuring. Idly, I pick up one of the battered, almost-translucent-with-grease menus and stare at the funny little warlord mascot drawn in the corner. It really does look like what I saw in the book--sorry, Slate of Destiny.

"Bang! You're dead!" Timur barks in my ear, making me start. I nearly bolt from my seat before I realize that it's just him, smiling crookedly like always.

"Jesus Saito! Timur, you scared the shit out of me!" I complain, waving stray strands from my face.

"Saeko, daughter of Masao, why you haven't visited my place and eaten my kebab for so long? You no longer like my cooking?"

"No, I just..."

"Ah, I see!" Timur says, crosses his arms, and cocks his head in Tomo's direction. "You think if you get fat, he'll no longer give you what you want!"

"Ew, don't talk like that, you old perv," I whine. "I'm here and I brought friends, so you can at least take our orders without being a greaseball, you know."

"Harrumph! Gratuity twenty percent included with parties of 4 or more," Timur says.

"You just made that up! Anyway, I'll take the 'Pile of Skulls' with extra yogurt sauce." I say, without having to look at the menu. All of Timur's entrees have macabre names, like the 'Pile of Skulls Outside Baghdad,' which is really a small pyramid of falafel rounds atop a bed of lettuce, or 'Entrails of The People of Aleppo,' which is a spicy sausage dish. Part of the weird appeal of the place, I guess. "You guys know what you want?" i ask to the others.

After we're done ordering, Timur (who never uses a notepad) waddles over to the back, and before long, we hear the sounds of the grill and deep fryer churning away. Haikuno still looks harried and miserable, although based on what he ordered, he's worked up an appetite. I almost feel sorry for the man, which says a lot, since his former leader essentially killed my father. "Oh, relax, Kingslayer dude. Since none of us know what we're doing, we might as well take the time to eat, right? You could learn a lot from Tama's approach to things..."

"I fear for the Queen," Haikuno says, morosely. "Every day, her presence seems to fade from the people's hearts, only to be replaced by a slavish devotion to this pretender, Mishil. It's almost like they don't want to be free, like they just want to spend their lives with their necks under a boot. I wonder what Enishi would do in a situation like this?"

I roll my eyes. "Enishi would probably tell you to stuff your gob." There's no getting through to this asshole, I guess.

Before long, Timur returns, hefting a giant platter atop which steam our entrees. With practiced deftness, he tosses the plates onto our table without spilling too much, and we chow down on the best foreign food in Cloud. We're all done before long, and right now I'm so full I'm in pain. Just then, I remember that I'd promised Sei I'd take a "to-go" order for her, so I motion for Timur to come back to the table.

"Where did you get that?" Timur asks before I can order. I notice his eyes fixed on the Slate of Destiny, which Tama's been trying to read while she eats, and has already befouled with gyro drippings, breadcrumbs, and stray pieces of shredded lettuce.

"Oh! Right," I say, remembering why we'd come here in the first place, "We were going to ask you about this. This guy brought it from Marsh Country thinking it'd help us find something we're looking for, but the problem is none of us can read anything written inside. Then, we saw this page that had squigglies like on your menus, so..."

Timur's normally crooked smile gives way to a hard-eyed look that I've never seen him make, save for during some hushed conversations with my father way in the past. "That...that will lead you nowhere but to misery. It is a blessing if you cannot read it. It means you are not tainted by its curse. If I were you, I'd take it to the nearest deep, deep hole and toss it in there. Then I would walk away and never tell another soul about it."

"Whoa, Timur...are you saying you know what it is?" My curiosity quickly overwhelms my crapulence. "Thank Shinbatsu! I know this sounds insane, but Haikuno over here claims that it's the 'Slate of Destiny' and that it might lead us to finding the 'Chalk of Fate,' and..."

"Silence!" Timur growls. "Saeko! You will say no more about this in my presence! I...I'm closed now! You and your friends have to leave!"

"Wait, but I needed to order something for my friend, and also we need to pay you and..."

"Get out! No soup for you!" Timur shouts as he starts to hustle us to the door.

 

[Tanuki Rinko]

Tomo wasn't paying much attention to the conversation around him. He barely recalled the events that transpired a few months ago. In fact, he couldn't remember much of anything really. Maybe I should check into the Aesculapium... Am I really so old to be worrying about memory loss? Hair loss?! Tomo not-so-sneakily reached up to check his hairline, then slid his fingers through his tresses to make sure it wasn't thinning. He let out a quiet sigh of relief before listening in on the conversation. Haikuno was relaying the valiant efforts of Chung-Hee, along with the man's demise. Tomo bowed his head in respect. He hadn't known the man well, but anyone willing to give his life for his country was admirable. The male shinobi was brought back to the current predicament when Tama began showering paper fragments down on him from above. Perturbed by the new mess, he felt no shame in using his shinobi powers for something so mundane as janitorial duty. He infused his chakra into the shreds and twisted his fingers to shape them into a paper crane. With a small smile, he placed the piece on Saeko's desk, hoping it might brighten her day later. However, seeing the piles of papers on her desk reminded him of something that was probably more romantic than a paper crane, and that's getting shit fixed. He grabbed a work order from a drawer and began filling it out. He made sure to make a memo that the window was to be paid for by Mochizuki Tomo. He didn't want anyone in the troupe to question why he needed to get his lover's office fixed.

As he finished signing his name with a flourish, Tomo heard mention of a taco temple. He looked up, curiosity getting the better of him. Saeko seemed fond of the place, which made the man wonder why she hadn't tried to con him into taking her there before. He was unsurprised when Tama showed interest in the restaurant, nor was he shocked when she blurted out incorrect use of percentages. He massaged his temples in preparation for a Tama-induced headache. "That's not how math works." Despite the annoyance in his voice, he blindly followed the dominant women in his life. He wanted desperately to refute Saeko's garlic comment. In the end, he could only mutter, "Yes dear."

***​

Tomo resisted the urge to gag as the four entered the establishment. Tomo would never say Saeko had bad taste, but he sure was thinking it at this given moment. However, the moment he saw a glint of something in her eye, he swallowed the lump in his throat and mentally urged himself to man up. He was probably going to have to drink spinach smoothies for a week to detox his body after this feast. Furrowing his brows at that thought, he lowered himself into a chair and began searching for the least offensive meal. Easier said than done. He began to sweat just reading the names, and he eyed Saeko for help. He leaned in, about to ask for assistance when a gruff voice came from the other side of his lover. Tomo shot to attention, then shoved the menu into his face to hide his embarrassment. Either this guy had some kind of special training, or Tomo was as crappy a shinobi as he always thought he was. He dared not remove his nose from the grease-covered plastic for fear that his flushed cheeks would be misinterpreted as confirmation of Timur's assumptions. When it was his turn to order, Tomo cleared his throat in an attempt to compose himself. "I'll have the Crossfire..." He squinted at the menu. "with a side of Collateral Damage please."

Saeko attempted small talk during the wait for food, to no avail of course. It was obvious this Haikuno guy was as broody as they come. Dress him in black and strap an edgy sword on him and he could be the main character of a Final Fabrication game. Though truthfully, Tomo wasn't much better. The Mochizuki wondered if the two might get along were they in different circumstances. Considering Tomo would be one of those people blindly following anyone who was in charge if he hadn't been trained in Kumogakure, he thought not. It was easy to hang your head and do what you were told. In fact, submissive was Tomo's preferred state of being. No way would Haikuno accept such a subservient friend in this timeline. Time seemed to crawl for the Mochizuki as silence fell over the table. He'd been doing better at keeping the voices in his head at bay when in conversation, but he feared this lull would lead to ridiculous comments from Haruki and Aitouka.

Luckily the food came soon enough. The male Mochizuki was nervous about what would appear on his plate with a name like 'Crossfire', but was relieved to see it was merely meat and assorted vegetables in a bread wrap. Satisfied with his choice, Tomo nibbled at his meal. He knew Saeko and Tama would chastise him for not eating it all in one sitting, but he was fairly certain his intestines were going to have enough trouble with what he planned to ingest. He peeked over at the now messy tablet in Tama's lap and cocked an eyebrow. He didn't get a good look before in Saeko's office, but now he could see what they meant. It was rather impressive, though the variety of leftover food littered atop it devalued the image a bit. That was why when Timur returned and began ranting at the group, Tomo felt a tinge of anger. Why was this guy getting so uppity about a bunch of stone slabs? As the owner began pushed the group to the exit, something in Tomo snapped. Maybe it was the time away from Tama caused something in him to grow, maybe it was the way Timur was raising his voice at Saeko, or most likely, Tomo was simply crabby. Whatever the case, the more docile twin took matters into his own hands. The doorway turned a jet black as Tomo inked the exit. He was the first to be shoved against it, followed shortly by Haikuno, Tama, then Saeko. He wiggled his way upwards to get his head above the cluster of bodies and glared at Timur. "Listen sir. I don't care what horrors await us if we pursue the answers to this stupid slate. My sister's maybe lover's lover is in trouble, and while I normally would be happy to go home blissfully ignorant of the bigger picture around me, fate has chalked me in to giving a damn. So just fess up, because this door isn't going to open again until I make it open." Tomo looked to Tama for confirmation that his reaction was correct.

 

[Takaki Saeko]

Just when things can't possibly get more awkward, I've now become the head of some kind of human centipede: my ass smooshed against Tama whose derriere grinds on Haikuno who's also giving the mother of all twerking to Tomo. When did we all get so fat? I wonder with increasing alarm, while Timur does his best to turn us all into extruded meat by pushing relentlessly with his broad, hairy, sweaty shoulders (ew). As my face turns a lovely shade of alabaster blue, I think to myself: I wonder if I can run Yumers over with a motorized scooter chair?

Before I can plan the Raikage's assassination any further, though, the pressure suddenly lets off and I and everyone else all fall to our hands and knees in a pile. I blink and look around and notice that the previously-open door is now covered by one of Tomo's ink wards. So that's what it was, I realize. Part of me is relieved to not actually weigh half a ton and part of me is frustrated because I had the perfect crime planned out and now everything's ruined. Timur also looks dejected, but probably for vastly different reasons.

"A cheap trick, but effective," Timur huffs at Tomo. He sighs, picks himself up, and rights one of the chairs that had been knocked over in the scuffle. "Sit. If you have found the Slate then you are already committed to the path of fools, no matter what I say. First, though, tea." He waddles over to the kitchen and puts water on to boil while we all resume our places at the table, unnerved at the sudden change in the tone of our afternoon.

I look at Tomo and squeeze his hand. "Nice move, babe! No one's ever come back from being thrown out of this place, before. I mean, once he gives you 'that soup line,' you're kind of banned for life, or at least a month, whichever comes first. Even my father didn't aggravate him too much because of that."

Timur comes back with a full pitcher of tea, but only one cup, which he proceeds to pour for himself and then down all in one gulp. Then, he pours himself another cupful and stares at his own reflection for a while. "I was eight summers of age when my brothers, my mother, and I were all taken as slaves. Men who served Abu Sa'id, the Bahadur Khan, raided my village and we were marched, with chains around our necks, to the holy city of Samarkand, at the center of the world. Two of my brothers died of exposure on the way. We were not allowed to bury them.

"Years later I was soldier in the service of the Bahadur Khan, much as you shinobi are soldiers of the Shogun and are sent to die for his whims. And by the time I was in my twenties, I had shown enough promise to command my own legion of men. The Khan himself had been consumed with finding the secret of eternal life for many years, and relentlessly sent his agents out in search of the fountain of youth. Anything to prolong his wasted, frail existence. The most popular legends had spoken of an ancient maze-temple that only appeared once every few hundred years, holding within its walls the means to achieve immortality. The latest rumors placed the temple's location nearby where my legion was to march, so I was chosen to investigate it. The Khan's orders were clear: lay siege to it, plunder whatever lay within, and bring it to him immediately.

"Unlike many rumors and legends, however, this one proved to be true. Within a few days' march, we saw it emerge from the mist: the crumbling ruins of what had once been a thriving city and its keep, overgrown with exotic plants that would never grown on their own in the cold steppes. Encouraged, we approached, only to encounter its defenders: men like us, but clad in foreign armor and speaking in gibberish. While they were slain as easily as any other enemy, we found that our greatest threat was the place itself. We all got lost easily in its twisting passages and dead ends, and there was no way to the center, where the keep and its treasure was. After too many of my of men perished in its devilish warrens, I had no choice but to blockade it and pull back.

"Over the next few months, I studied everything I could about this temple. I paid a king's ransom in gold to any scholar or historian who could provide me any information about the place--a map, a secret code, anything. It turned out that I had found the remains of the ancient hanging gardens of Babylon, commissioned twenty centuries before my time by the empress of Assyria. But I also leaned one more thing: the maze had no solution. And yet, just as I resigned myself to either execution or a futile last-ditch attack, I had an epiphany."

Timur, who's spilled a bit of his tea on one of his menus, picks up the soggy piece of paper and thrusts his index finger through it with a triumphant smile. "If there is no rational solution, then the answer is always a direct hit!" His words cause Tama to perk up from having fallen asleep.

"At the head of my dwindling army, I charged my men right into the walls. And they crumbled like centuries-old rotten wood. I hacked and slashed a glorious path all the way to the keep and smashed its doors asunder, looking for the treasure. Of course, the old empress had long since died, and all I found within was an ancient, wizened monk, a younger disciple who looked scared out of his mind, and... two mundane objects: a stone book, and a piece of chalk.

"Feeling oddly merciful, I ordered the disciple to stand aside, and asked the old monk where the secret of immortality was hidden. He gestured to the book and the chalk. In my rage, I put my sword through his belly. And then, I felt the knife go between by shoulder blades and exit my chest. I'd been stabbed by the young man I'd spared, and now my life would end pointlessly, in this dusty, deserted temple with only a book and a lousy piece of chalk as my reward. My world started to go dark, when the old monk opened his eyes and spoke to me. Tamarlan, he said, can you write? I nodded, unable to speak because my throat had filled with blood. Then, the monk said to me, and pointed at the book and chalk, you can correct your mistakes.

"With my last ounce of strength, I flung the book open, took the chalk, and scribbled down the words: 'Kill the young man. Spare the old one.'"

Timur looks up from his empty mug, still looking dry-mouthed despite all the tea he's just drank down. "The next thing I knew, I stood again at the threshold of the keep, with the old monk and his disciple before me. My chest ached, and I looked down, but I was whole. Then, I drew my sword, cut the disciple's head off before he could even move, and scooped up the chalk and the book. I turned around and left, and rode back to Samarkand with my surviving men. Two weeks later, the Bahadur Khan was finally dead, and I was his successor. The year was thirteen hundred and seventy. And as for the rest... you can look it up in the library."

With that, Timur falls into silence.

I lean over and give him a cross-eyed stare. "Um... Can I still order take-out for Sei?"

"No!" Haikuno shouts, and slams a fist on the table. "Were you not listening to a word he said? This situation is even worse than I had imagined! If Mishil gets her hands on both the chalk and the slate, then she'll not only have the power to literally rewrite reality, but she'll also be immortal! We have to find the chalk first! Or failing that, definitely destroy the slate!"

"Dude!" I grab Haikuno by an ear. "Chill out! There's no way that old Timur here is actually some thousand-plus-year-old warlord! And even if he was, why the hell is he cooking falafel for assholes?"

"I often wonder the same thing," Timur says, rising to his feet. "In any case, I have told you all I will tell you, and we will never speak of this again. Now, I'm closed for real, and you're all banned for life. Or thirty days at least."

"Please, sir," Haikuno says, and kneels before Timur. "Do you know where the Chalk is? Any clue will help! My Queen...no, my savior, depends on it!"

Timur sighs and quickly sketches out a map on the back of a nearby napkin. "This is where the temple appeared for me last time. It will probably not be there, though." And with that, he leaves us.

Haikuno kowtows so hard that he smashes his forehead into the floor, and then looks at the drawing. "Wait..." he says, dumbfounded. "I recognize this place... the mountain ridges and that river! It's...it's right in the middle of Marsh Country."

 

[Suzuki Setsu]

Tama loved eating out. It was usually frowned upon for the Lord Protector to be seen eating at any joint rated at less than five stars. Chancellor Ami was adamant about it, especially when she was outside of the village. Something about the pride of the shogunate? All Tama knew was that it meant her fast food forays had become severely restricted. Now she had an excuse, it was on Shiri-tan orders! Indirectly, but Ami didn’t need to know that. Nor did she need to know that the precious royal scion of Lightning and Bear was in danger due to a mad lich-queen. Come to think of out there were a lot of things Ami didn’t need to know.

But now it was time to order, and Tama made the obvious choice, The Sacking of Constantinople. A smorgasbord of warring flavors that looked like it would ravage the intestines of the person who ate it for at three days before settling. A worthy opponent, the chuunin mused. Perhaps the indigestion would spark some inspiration concerning the damn tablets. Saeko and Haikuno exchanged some words, mainly more of the same. Haikuno thinking the group should take things more seriously and trying to impress the gravitas of the situation on everyone. And Saeko was agreeing with Tama. Tama nodded at Saeko’s words, “Yeah Hai-Hai, you can learn a lot from me. I’m amazing after all!” Tama had always thought that Tomo made an excellent choice in Saeko as a lover.

When the food arrived, Tama began shoveling grub away, knowing that this would probably be the last time she would be able to eat real food before being put back on the fanceh menyuu to which the Shogun’s household subscribed. Between bites she flipped through the book, squinting at the indecipherable squiggles and trying to make sense of it all.

The proprietor finally took notice of it, saving Tama the trouble of asking. Saeko quickly took the opportunity to pry, and then all of a sudden the group was being hustled towards the restaurant's entrance. Tama was about to fly into a rage, maybe break a few things, but was beaten to the punch by Tomo? An ink barrier formed over the doorway and they were all smashed against it. Tama desperately wished she was sandwiched between Nekomimi and Shiri-tan instead of the current company. In fact, she resolved silently to make sure that happened sometime in the future and to never mention this part of the story to anyone. But Tomo began to speak and his words surprised his sister just as much as his actions did.

"Listen sir. I don't care what horrors await us if we pursue the answers to this stupid slate. My sister's maybe lover's lover is in trouble, and while I normally would be happy to go home blissfully ignorant of the bigger picture around me, fate has chalked me in to giving a damn. So just fess up, because this door isn't going to open again until I make it open."

He looked to Tama, who had a face with a teary-eyed smile on it. Perhaps it was the food, or perhaps the last vestiges of Haruko’s spirit making a comeback, but she felt like she could kiss him right now. The awkward moment passed and she gave him a victory sign to signal a job well done.

***​

Tama had a weird dream about horses, war, punching things, and then smacking Mishil upside the head with the stone book before waking to the phrase, “the answer is always a direct hit!” She quickly straightened herself and wiped the drool off of her face with a greasy napkin as the burly man finished the story of his life. To be honest, she would have been more interested in the stories of the past if her friend wasn’t in mortal danger. Timur still seemed to be holding information back, and this time it was Haikuno who broke down, something about Nekomimi being his saviour. Tama made a note to have a talk with her about stalkers and creepy people in general. But it worked. Timur finally divulged the location of the Chalk. And Tama groaned as Haikuno said the location out loud. “Great. That means we have to deal with little miss generalissimo. And her brother. Anyway we can sneak across the border? I mean the fate of the world is on the line , and that's more important than causing a few diplomatic incidents, right?”

 

[Takaki Saeko]

Haikuno gives Tama a solemn nod. "We have no choice. The destiny of both of our peoples is at stake here."

I raise my hand. "That's easy for you to say, because you're a wanted international terrorist. But if Tama, Tomo, or I even put a single snaggly-ass toenail on the wrong side of the DMZ, that won't just cause an international incident, but straight-up war. The Hayata Treaty is super clear on that, even if every other term has been broken to fuck by all parties involved. Officially, I can't condone an action like this. And also, Haikuno, didn't you promise me you were gonna let me turn you in so I could get a gorillion yen reward? Haikuno? Are you listening?"

I reach out to grab him, but only succeed in clutching a man-size hug pillow (dakimakura for the weaboos out there) decoy that he's left behind. One side features him wearing some cool armor and giving you a cocky, shit-eating grin. The other side is him, shirtless and sans armor with his fly down so you can see... "That prick!" I curse as I realize he's actually managed to dupe me. I toss the body pillow aside in anger, and it sails across the room and lands in an older lady's lap. She looks down at the pillow, blushes, and then surreptitiously walks out with it under her arm. Meanwhile, a note falls to the floor.

I'm going to the temple, with or without you. No matter what happens, I owe Queen Ekaterina my life, and I won't see hers ruined. If you have the courage to come along, there's a long stretch of unguarded border fence at these coordinates: 39°2'1.86"N, 125°45'15.55"E. Expect a fight.

--Haikuno

"Jesus Saito, what an idiot..." I mutter. "Well, Tama, I'll leave it in your hands. Do we try and save your friends or do we play it safe and... Tama? Are you listening?" I reach out to grab her, only to end up with yet another dakimakura in my arms. The front side reveals Tama in a spunky pose in a fluffy idol uniform, and the back is Tama in only a pair of stockings, trying to cover a pair of far bigger assets than she actually has in real life. A note also falls to the floor.

See you there! It's boring without a fight!

--Tama

I facepalm, and turn to Tomo. "I don't actually want to see your dakimakura, because I know it's gonna make me feel jealous to know that girls are cuddling it. So I guess we have no choice but to follow them. If for nothing else, to make sure your sister gets back safely. Tomo? Tomo, are you..."

I reach out, expecting another hug pillow, but it's just that Tomo's gotten a little pale and dry-mouthed at seeing his sister's ecchi-ass depiction on commonly-available merchandise. "Oh, thank god. Okay, we're leaving for Marsh. Timur, there's a present for you!" I say, and pitch Tama's pillow into the kitchen. Timur catches it, looks it over, and gives me a thumbs-up, then disappears back into the kitchen.

* * *​

Valley of Queen Semiramis, interior of Marsh Country
...three days later

So far, Tomo and I have almost died a few times over. The first time was when we narrowly evaded an unexpected patrol at the border crossing, the second time was when we tried to cross a raging stream caused by unseasonable snow melt up in the mountains, the third time was due to bears, and the fourth time was due to snakebites. Fortunately, the snakebite was one of those things you could solve with hentai shenanigans, so we were glad that Tama and Haikuno weren't actually around to see how we resolved that. Regardless, we're now at about the point on the map that Timur had drawn us, and still no closer to seeing either the temple or Tama or even Haikuno.

"This is...pretty bad, Tomo," I remark to my lover as we fruitlessly wander through yet more of the mist that permanently blankets the valley. "We're almost out of food, too, so unless you want to catch us some wild tsuchinoko, we might need to turn back. How did Timur even camp out with an army around here? That assumes that he was telling us was true. Which it wasn't, because there's no way that goody bastard is actually a thousand-plus years old, and... now I feel ridiculous." I plop down on a nearby rock and pull my knees up to my chest. "You know, if I had the chalk, maybe I'd write something like: prevent Dad from dying, plus unsee Haikuno's dakimakura, plus prevent us from having to sneak into a hostile country where we could die from aphrodesiac-venomed snakes at any moment. Don't get me wrong--I'm not complaining about the cure! But still, I don't see how this can end well."

In the distance, a gunshot rings out. Tomo and I immediately scramble for cover and listen, intently. More gunshots ring out. Horrible thoughts race through my head. Have Haikuno and Tama engaged with Marsh forces? Have they confronted those ancient defenders that Timur mentioned? Or...could they even be fighting each other? Either way, this isn't something we can ignore. "Follow me," I tell Tomo, and we stealthily creep toward the sounds of battle.

It's not long before we come to the edge of a precipice a few dozen meters up from the valley floor. Below us is a sight that takes my breath away: it's a sprawling, ancient, and mostly crumbling compound--perhaps the ruins of a small city in size--overgrown with the types of plants usually found more in the tropics than in a temperate woodland like this valley. From what I can make out, the walls and rooftops within do resemble a giant maze, and one with no clear path to the looming keep in the center. Perhaps Timur wasn't actually bullshitting us? I scan further and see that at least one section of the compound has been damaged more heavily than the others, almost as if someone trampled his way through the place.

But our more immediate concern is closer. Tama and Haikuno are visible, running from rooftop to rooftop while being sprayed with fire from a company of Marsh Country Jaegers. I've encountered those men before, and each one of them is a cold-blooded, sadistic killer at heart. They also excel at cornering and killing shinobi, and were used to great effect during the recent war. I take out a pair of binoculars and try to spy out their leader. Usually, if you take out their leader, the Jaegers will retreat and regroup. Usually.

"Oh shit... Not her!" I curse, and hand the binoculars over to Tomo. His reaction is similar to mine. The one giving the Jaegers orders isn't a mere officer. She's Generalissimo Sumihara Kaede--the commander of Marsh Country's entire armed forces. "I was gonna suggest we just shoot the leader down, but...Jesus Saito, if we kill her, it'll be war for sure! Haikuno can go fuck himself, but Tama's dead if we do nothing..."

 

[Tanuki Rinko]

Tomo groaned as they continued their hike through Marsh Country. Three days of mishaps was more than enough to make him regret ever involving himself with Tama's affairs. The least she could have done was make a clear path for the two that were lagging behind. The man rubbed his butt cheek subconsciously while Saeko mentioned all the things she would write with magical space-time chalk. "Let's add in a bit about solving the world's problems by sitting in a hot spring. I'd gladly see anyone naked if it meant I could relax for a day."

The crack of a gun caused Tomo to tense, and he followed close behind Saeko as she brought them to the edge of the valley. His eyes blurred a bit as they took in the structure. So many walls and plant-life made focusing difficult. With Saeko's binoculars, he was able to hone in on the battle below. For once, Tama was smart enough to know that a legion of elite, gun-touting soldiers might be a bit more than she could handle. Slipping the equipment back into Saeko's pouch, Tomo reached for his headset. "If we can't take out the head, then our best bet is to split their firepower and inch our way to the building. We might be able to fortify ourselves there, hopefully long enough to find what we need. Tama, we'll draw some away, you keep running. When I say 'Shogun' you blast something our way. We'll take the opportunity to move forward."

Ending the call for now, Tomo placed his forehead upon Saeko's. "This is probably the most dangerous, bat-shit insane thing I've done to date. So if things don't go right, I love you, and shoot when you see the explosion." He lifted her chin and pressed his lips to hers. As he deepened the kiss, his body slowly turned transparent. Soon Saeko's tongue was left waggling in the open air, with no sign of Tomo's whereabouts. While his lover recovered from the tragically romantic scene, the Mochizuki formed a small barricade of stone for Saeko to use for cover. Still invisible for the time being, his ghostly form soared to the valley below. Analyzing their location and trajectory, Tomo placed ink traps upon the rooftops that the Jaegers were likely to tread upon.

Feeling less confident than an anti-social emo on prom night, Tomo looked to the bundle of Jaegers shooting their loads at Tama and Haikuno. The shinobi opened his palms, and the mouths spat out identical clay birds. He threw them at the enemy and formed a hand seal. "Showtime." The explosion wasn't large enough to cause too much bodily harm. In fact, Kaede would have only felt a gentle puff of warm air. Instead it was Saeko's gun, ringing through the valley, that forced the Jaegers to divide their attention. Seeing the cover, three of the foes split from the group, hopping their way to Saeko. One set off an ink trap, blasting him backwards and off the roof. The remaining two shot grappling hooks upwards, aiming for the cliff side. The less sturdy one was immediately kicked off by Saeko, leaving the man to await its retraction to try again. With one black-clad individual left, Tomo returned to his girlfriend's side. The effect of his ethereal jutsu had run out, revealing his position to the enemy. As the rival woman took aim at the Kumo nin, Tomo opened his notebook, releasing a flock of fluttering paper. They formed into a barrier just in time to block the bullet, and scattered again into torn fragments. Taking advantage of the confusion, Tomo formed a cloak from the scraps and picked Saeko up in his arms. As the other two Jaegers joined their comrade, Tomo radioed his twin. "Shogun!"

Tomo jumped from the cliff with Saeko shooting her gun from over his shoulder. A large beam zipped through the air to the right of the couple before exploding into an array of multi-colored lights. The overly complicated flash grenade did its job, blinding the foes on the cliffside, causing one to slip off. The others sprayed Tomo's general area with ammunition, hoping to hit something. One bullet lodged into the Mochizuki's shoulder, knocking Tomo off kilter. His landing was set for disaster, so he shifted his cloak forward to cushion the fall. The two hurtled onto a rooftop and tumbled along it. Saeko stopped short of the ledge, but Tomo had no such luck. His body flung over the side, and was destined to impale upon a sharp frame of rotten wood below. But Saeko wasn't going to let another boyfriend die, today anyways. Her hand reached for anything of Tomo's, and successfully latched onto his unnecessarily long ponytail. Haruki's voice sounded in the Mochizuki's aching head. See Tomo-boy? This is why I told you not to cut your glorious mane. It saved your life. You can thank me later. In too much pain to argue, the shinobi grabbed the edge of the roof with an ink tendril and helped Saeko pull him up. Once he had his footing back, the two began traversing the rooftops, waiting for Tama to give a signal of her own.

 

[Takaki Saeko]

In the blink of an eye, this mission has turned into a giant ball of violence filmed with a shaky-cam. My heart’s racing along at nearly two hundred beats a second and the world’s turned red with a gray fuzz encroaching at the corners of my vision. Lead splashes like raindrops on the stones around me, and I can’t even tell if I’m still holding Tomo’s arm in a deathgrip while dragging him away from the line of fire. For all I know, my fingers are probably digging right into his gaping wound, but in this case it’s probably a good thing--the adrenaline surge will keep him conscious and alive. Right before he crashes, of course.

I pull him behind a nearby chimney and quickly look over his wreckage. He’s bleeding badly, but that’s not the worst of it. He’s also starting to cough up pink foam and the veins on his neck are popping out like spiderwebs. That means one of his lungs has a blown-out internal lining. The very act of breathing will force more and more air into the pleural space until the pressure clamps down on his heart like a vise. That’s what they don’t tell you about being shot in the shoulder--it’s actually really goddamned dangerous, unlike in movies. The temporary solution is to decompress the chest cavity with a large-bore needle, but I don’t have that on me.

“Tomo! I’m going to try and help you! Trust me, please!” I yelp as I draw a thin little stiletto from my ankle sheath. Normally, this would be plunged into someone’s neck as a last resort, but I have something different in mind. Gritting my teeth, I jab it into his upper chest on the affected side, between the second and third rib spaces under the clavicle. Tomo goes rigid and reflexively grabs my wrist, trying with all his might to tear the blade from my grasp. I’m surprised he hasn’t punched me in the face, but that’s probably because of his bad arm. It gets worse--the next thing I do is twist the blade.

Doing so makes me barf a bit in my mouth, and makes Tomo’s eyes roll back in his head from the pain, but I’m rewarded by a gush of blood-flecked air that erupts from the wound I’ve made, and within seconds, Tomo’s color goes back to normal and his breathing eases. I’ve decompressed his lung, and hopefully the effect will last for a little while, until I get some actual medical supplies. I yank the stiletto out, and rest my forehead against his chest. Right now I’m still too wound up to cry.

The Jagers haven’t let up their assault, either. The chimney we’re sheltering behind is still getting chewed up by fire, and I have no idea where Tama or Haikuno are. I pop a glance up when I think the enemies have stopped to reload. Of course, that’s a terrible idea. Generalissimo Kaede-chan looks extra furious, and one of her men has just lit the fuse on a portable, shoulder-mounted cannon aimed right at us.

“Shit!” I pop back down just in time to avoid getting my head literally taken off by an explosive shell. By dumb luck, the round just skirts the top of our cover, skips off the stones instead of exploding outright, and careens into the side of a nearby tower that I hadn’t even noticed before. I throw myself over Tomo to shield him from the rain of debris that results from the blast, and everything’s soon covered in dust.

Despite the ringing in my ears, I hear footsteps approaching, and know that if we stay here, we’re going to die. There aren’t many options in our current location, save for the giant hole that lil’ Kaede made for us just now. “Can you walk?” I ask Tomo, and signal him to follow me toward the hole. We burst into a run just in time to be greeted by another hail of gunfire, and instead of a nice, controlled descent, we pretty much tumble right into the opening, lose our footing, and fall through three sets of rotting wooden plank floors before hitting something solid and blacking out.

* * *​

*Scritch* *Scratch*

My eyes flutter open, and I try to look around and identify what’s making that annoying sound. Everything’s blurry and dim, and moving my head around is inordinately difficult, as if my noggin’s become comically oversized and I’ve become a chibi doll. But eventually, the focus returns enough to make out some basic things.

First, is that I’m laying on my back in some sort of dark, high-ceilinged place, almost like a cathedral that’s been neglected and left to crumble. The only light available is provided by a ton of nearly-spent candles that let off an oily, foul-smelling smoke. Second, there’s someone next to me. He’s not Tomo, but rather some sort of extremely wizened monk in robes that probably used to be saffron-colored but are now various shades of brown and gray. He doesn’t seem to care that I’m nearby, but instead seems to have devoted all his concentration to scratching out what looks like an elaborate mandala on the floor. And in the center of that mandala, is a fist-sized lump of what looks like chalk.

I blink and try to get to my feet. I can’t, though. My legs won’t move. They’re not in pain, though. More like I simply can’t feel them--as if there’s a cloud that’s settled over my waist, that blocks out all sensation. I start to panic, but quickly push the sensation down. Concentrate on what you have, and what you have to do. I urge myself over and over. My arms still work, and my voice still works, even though I’m teetering on the edge.

“Where’s Tomo?” I ask, my voice a scratchy whisper.

The monk doesn’t look up or acknowledge me.

“I said, where’s Tomo?” I growl. Still, no response. I look around, find a small pebble, and chuck it right at the monk’s head.

Still not looking in my direction, the monk expertly catches it right before the pebble would have clunked against his bald head. He looks at it for what seems to be a long time, and then gently sets it aside. “The young man who dragged you here...has left. I do not know to where.”

“I see…” I swallow some nonexistent saliva. Logically, I know Tomo’s probably gone to find help, or reunite with Tama or Haikuno. But, as I continued to regard my nonfunctional legs, I’m propelled by a growing, irrational, horrific hope that he’s actually left me to die and never comes back.

I’ve read enough of Osu’s case reports to know that a catastrophic spinal injury is something not even shinobi recover from in most cases.

It means lifelong disability and a slow death from infections and ulcers over many years, even with the best of loving care.

It means I will never be a working shinobi again, nor will I ever be able to be a true partner for the man I love.

And what man wants a woman who can’t fuck?

If, for some reason, Tomo tries to comes back, I’m going to be a burden to him. I can’t help him with the mission.

I can’t fight off Kaede and her Jagers if they come storming in.

I’ll be taken to their capital and tortured and mindbroken..

I’ll be forced to bear children who’ll also be experimented on.

When they grow tired of me or I’ve outlived my usefulness, I’ll be vivisected and my organs will be used for their anti-chakra research.

I can’t let them do that, nor can I let Tomo deal with the aftermath, or the pain of knowing I’m out there and that he’s powerless to do anything about it.

No, there’s one way out. I still have my gun...

...At the last minute, I realize that I’m pressed the barrel against the side of my head. Rationality kicks in and I lower the gun. Breathe. You just need to breathe, I chide myself. Find something else to think about. I look over at the monk again. “Is that that Chalk of Fate?”

He’s silent for a long time, and I’m about to pick up another pebble to fling at him, but eventually, he nods. “It is.”

“I thought...Timur--I guess, Tamarlan for you--had taken it away? How did it end up back here? Don’t tell me you shit these out on the regular.”

To my surprise, the monk chuckles involuntarily. I guess toilet humor is the universal ice-breaker. “No. Sadly, I do not excrete anymore, young miss,” he says.

“They say the same thing about the Dear Leader of Marsh Country. He doesn’t poop or piss, either. You two should be friends. Form a support group.”

The monk, who looks like he’s been distracted from his mandala for the first time in a thousand years, looks flustered. “I should return to my work.”

“Wait. You didn’t answer my question. How come the chalk is here, anyway?”

The monk shakes his head lets out an aggravated sigh. He probably wants me to shut up and end myself already. “Tamarlan is the one who returned the chalk, a thousand years after he took it. He told me that he did not wish to be immortal anymore, after having lived so long and with such dissatisfaction. He begged me to undo its curse. I informed him that I could not.”

“He must’ve been pissed. Surprised you’re alive...or whatever you are.”

“After a thousand years, a man gains perspective and restraint. He told me that if he was doomed to live forever, then he may as well open a restaurant.”

I shrug. “It’s an okay place, if a little unsanitary. Anyway, I should tell you that someone else is looking for the chalk about now. A real asshole named Mishil. Do you know her? She has the Slate.”

The monk lowers his head and goes back to his mandala. “She is...close.”

What? My heart starts to race again. Shouldn’t Mishil be in Bear Country, still? Even she can’t just go traipsing across the border to find us...or can she? “You’re not gonna give that to her, are you?” I ask the monk.

“It is not my place to decide,” the monk says.

I grit my teeth. “Maybe not, but...since I’m here…” I prop myself up on an elbow, then level my gun at the Chalk. There’s no way I’m letting that pompous eldritch horror get her tentacles on it. Queen Ekaterina belongs to Tama! I mean, the shogun!

Right before I pull the trigger, however, the front of the chamber we’re in glows with binding yellow light, and the impenetrable stones guarding the place from the outside world crumble and fall away. But the more surprising and distressing sight is the two individuals who stand at the precipice of the destroyed chamber. One of them is Tomo. And the other...is Mishil.

“Tomo?” I croak. “Run!” I switch my aim from the Chalk to Mishil and pull the trigger.

But to no avail. Before the gun can go off, Mishil’s somehow standing standing over me, with her hand blocking the hammer from striking the cap. I try to wrench my gun from her grasp, only to be flattened against the stones by an overwhelming, suffocating force pushing on every square millimeter of my body, as if Kouin had turned the gravity to 11.

“Foolish child!” Mishil’s words bore right into my skull and clang around in my brain. “Did I not warn you? You cannot touch me.” She’s not even moving her lips, except to give me a predatory smile. She looks completely different from how she did at the capital, or at the ball. Gone are the brocaded robes of state. Instead, she seems to be wearing practically nothing but wisps of silk that leave little to the imagination. Her skin, though, is covered in swirling, undulating, marks that look like tattooed runes with a life of their own.

“What the fuck...have you done to Tomo?” Of course, I can’t speak as my lungs are being crushed under her power, as well, but for some reason she seems to be able to understand me.

“I’ve done nothing to him,” Mishil says with a chuckle. “He found me himself, and led me here. He even helped me dispose of his annoying sister, as well as that incestuous woman from Marsh! Isn’t that right, Tomo darling?”

For some reason, I can move my head again, even though the rest of my body’s still completely immobilized. I crane my neck to get a better view of my lover, who, incomprehensibly, stands next to her. Despite the fact that he’s standing, however, his eyes are glazed over as if he’s drunk or high. Mishil reaches over, caresses his cheek, and draws him in for a deep, tongue-filled kiss.

“Tomo! Tomo! Snap out of it! You have to run!” I try to flail my arms, knowing full well that they’re useless in this state. I can only watch as Mishil, apparently not satisfied with what torment she’s already inflicted, passes a hand down the front of Tomo’s trousers and starts to stroke his manhood. He caresses and sucks on her breasts in turn.

The world goes white. I force out what words I can. “Please, Tomo! You’re being brainwashed! You need to run! Don’t try to get help! Just run!”

Weirdly, although I can hear myself sobbing and blubbering, I don’t actually feel like I’m the one speaking. It’s almost as if I’m looking down at myself looking at my lover being violated. Perhaps it’s a defense mechanism, or a sign that I’m about to pass out from hypoxia. Or perhaps this is all a nightmare. I’d give anything for it to be the latter.

“Pay attention,” Mishil says, painfully wrenching my consciousness back to my own body. “You don’t want to miss the best part! Your dear Tomo sold himself to me for you! Your spine is severed in three places, child. You will never function as a human being again. But I promised to make you whole again. I will honor my debts, of course, when I have the chalk. Now, Tomo, why don’t you be a dear and retrieve it?”

I can only watch, powerlessly, as Tomo extricates himself from her grasp and walks over to where the chalk is. The monk, still hunched over his mandala, offers no resistance as Tomo casually kicks him aside with a foot and picks the chalk up in his hands.

Mishil’s face assumes a triumphant, lustful leer as Tomo, with a blank, wall-eyed stare, holds the chalk for her to take. “He’s lovely, isn’t he, Saeko? I think I’ll keep him as a toy for a little while. Until he breaks, of course.”

For a second, Tomo’s glassy, wall-eyed look passes into a split second of normality. He mouths something to me: I’m sorry.

I close my eyes. I’m sorry too, Tomo, but this will all be over soon and we can rest.

Abruptly, his headset erupts in a burst of static that makes him reel back and clutch his head in pain. Instantly, the foggy look in his eyes clears and he angrily barks into the mouthpiece: “About damn time!”

Before any of us can react, Tomo pitches the chalk toward a bunch of figures storming the entrance. Tama sails through the air like a basketball superstar intercepting a three-point shot and catches the chalk in her hands before rolling to the floor with on olympian flourish. But she’s not alone. To my surprise, behind her are not only Kaede and Haikuno, but also a company of jagers with their rifles leveled at Mishil. Every other man also bears what looks like a lantern of sorts, from which glows a pulsating, unpleasant purple aura.

Mishil snarls and thrusts a hand forward at all of them. Black, writhing, ethereal tentacles jettison from her back and scream towards my companions, intending to messily impale and shred them in one blow. But before the lethal tendrils can do any damage, they’re sucked into the lanterns held by the Jagers. Kaede points a pistol at Mishil and her face lights up with a triumphant, feral grin.

“For the Dear Leader!” she shouts, and fires her piece. The jager line erupts simultaneously in belched fire and smoke.

Mishil throws up her palms and manages to deflect a handful of projectiles, but is soon overwhelmed by the sheer force directed her way. Crimson blooms erupt from her arms and legs and face before she falls backwards and is torn to pieces by a hail of lead. Instantly, I feel like a weight’s been lifted from my chest, and I scream as I take in a lungful of precious air that’s been denied to me for what seems like forever. Sure, the air’s more smoke than anything else, but it’s still air.

Still, though, I can’t move my legs. I can’t see anything because it’s so smoky, but I feel Tomo’s hands on my shoulders, lifting me up and into an embrace. He clutches me with the strength of three bears, and I nearly pass out again from his efforts. Meanwhile, Kaede steps past us and plunges her sword into what I assume is Mishil’s corpse while her men cheer. Tama holds the chalk in one hand and sloppily hugs us both, leading me to feel like I’ve cracked a rib as well.

“Tama,” I whisper. “Your dakimakura is...hella lewd… Your brother was so...upset.”

“My friends,” Haikuno says, alarm in his voice. “I hate to be a downer, but I don’t think we’re quite done here.”

He points to Mishil, who despite literally hanging together by threads of flesh, somehow manages to get to her knees. Her face is pocked with bullet holes, but her eyes are still intact, and full of vengeance. “Foolish...children…” she rasps.

Kaede changes her magazine and double-taps Mishil in the head, but this is to no avail. Mishil’s body contorts, her limbs and torso expanding and ripping apart what little flesh remains on her while her skeleton continues to grow. In a few moments, she towers at least fifty meters over us all.

In this state, she’s become unrecognizable. Instead of a woman, she’s become some sort of horrific, horned skeleton whose bones are covered in slime and gore that sloshes onto the floor and eats away at the stones. Some of Kaede’s men fire their rifles into it, only to be swept aside and smashed into pulp by a swipe of the enormous skeleton’s hand.

“I am that which you cannot be rid of!” it wails. “I am the will of all who have been killed in the name of purity of the royal bloodline! I am the murdered children and strangled mothers and tortured fathers who had no voice, and now the world will hear us! And I will start my revenge with all of you!”

Tama assumes a fighting stance, only to be clapped on the shoulder by one of the jagers. He removes his helmet, revealing himself to be none other than old Timur, from back in Cloud.

“Don’t ask how I got here,” Timur whispers in her ear. “Listen, Tama. That thing cannot be harmed by you or your friends or any army on earth. The only recourse you have is to use the Chalk and the Slate. With a single wish, you can rid the world of this monster. But you also must be aware that changes you make will affect your world. You may lose everything. Your life, your love the shogun, your friends. But act you must.” With that, he flips his helmet closed and marches toward Mishil.

“Come! Try and kill me, you bitch!”

 

[Suzuki Setsu]

Tama stared at the Chalk in her hands, as the battle raged on. Timur is here, that’s new, she mused. And what help had he brought, nothing but stuff she already heard.

The first time she heard those words was when Saeko screamed, “Wish the bitch dead already!” And so Tama had done just that. She recalled the churning sensation as the world was rewritten around her. And then the massive headache that had followed, as the Slate forcefully implanted the alternative history into her mind. Ekaterina’s child had died, Saeko had died, Tomo had become possessed by Mishil’s spirit and Tama had killed him. Kumogakure had been razed to the ground, Shiranai and Ekaterina had perished in the subsequent revolution, and the new government had outlawed shinobi. But Tama still had possession of the Chalk and Slate. So desperately she tried again. But no matter how the cast changed, or how Mishil died Tomo always ended up possessed and the events played out like before.

On attempt seventy-three, Tama tried a different approach, wishing that the kingdoms that had spawned Mishil relied on ability rather than blood to govern themselves. She witnessed the birth of a continent-spanning empire, with herself at the helm. In the best interests of the world, neighboring countries were conquered, and Tama's merit based government was forcefully implemented. But unrest soon developed and the Empress of Lightning soon found herself fighting a bitter war against supporters of the old ways. Leading the resistance, her beloved Shiri-tan.

On attempt two-hundred-forty-four, Tama cancelled out her own existence. She wished for the ability to nullify Mishil's power. The two had clashed, ending with Tama absorbing Mishil's spirit. But the price was something Tama could never have imagined. The world forgot about her. It wasn't as if she had died, but any shred of proof that 'Mochizuki Tama’ ever existed had been removed. No one acknowledged her, she was treated as if she was air. The girl could hear the mocking voice of Mishil, “I'm that important, that interwoven into the fate of the world. Sacrifice more for me, suffer more for me! This is what I wished for! You can't ignore me, hero! You can't turn a blind eye! My existence has weight. And everyone will share my pain, unless you give up more to balance my desire for vengeance! Ahahahahaha!”

Angrily, Tama took to scribbling on the Slate once more, “I wish you never had any desire for vengeance! Take that, undead dastard!” The world wrenched again, and Tama found herself bathing in the Nimbus Delactatio. Across from her was Shiranai, who was looking at her with mild concern. “Did I win? Is she gone?” Tama asked aloud, looking around frantically.

“You fell asleep in the bath again, didn't you? Don't scare me like that,” the Shogun of Lightning sighed in relief. “I can just hear Tachibana-san having a fit about royal demeanor.” A half-smile hung on Shiranai's face. Tama sheepishly blushed, and snuggled into her lover's embrace. “But still you must be tired after the final battle in Marsh, so I won't tell if you won't.”

Right, they had won at last. Information was filling her mind as the Slate finished it's work, but Tama had to be sure. “How's Tomo holding up?” she asked.

“Your brother's pretty busy now. The Raikage has appointed him the spymaster. Still grumbles about wanting to be just a courier though,” he cut off Tama before she could ask any other questions, “I get it, honey, I'll tell you about everyone. Saeko is next in line to be Raikage, and she is helping Tomo with his training as well. Considering how capable a teacher she is, it was no surprise Tomo beat you in his combat evaluation. She takes after her father don't you think?” Tama nodded, though she wasn't sure if Saecchi would take that as a compliment. “Haikuno disappeared, which I don't blame him for, The Hidden Hero of Yukimura-dono’s Kingmakers has many enemies. Let’s see Sumihara Kaede found a letter from her mother informing her that her brother isn't blood related to her, they promptly got married and now Marsh is on a 'Path of Love.’ I know, it sounds extremely contrived, but apparently it's true. And that's everyone, satisfied? We're all doing just fine, you can relax now. You've earned it.”

He leaned in for a kiss, but Tama failed to respond. That's not everybody. “What about Ekaterina? Where's Nekomimi?”

Shiranai made a puzzled face, “That's an interesting name. Someone you met in Bear? Or Marsh?”

Tama's blood ran cold. “Shiri-tan, she's your wife right? She's expecting right?”

Shiranai looked concerned again, “Maybe you've been in the bath too long, Tama. You're my wife, remember? We've been married for six years now, and I told Tachibana-san that I wouldn’t be accepting any concubines or additional wives. When we married I swore to you that you would be my only love, and I’ve kept true to that.”

Tama was surprised, and more than a little happy. One of her deepest regrets was losing Shiranai to Ekaterina. And as much as Tama had come to love and enjoy her time with the Queen of Bear, deep down she had secretly been jealous of her position. Ekaterina could be with the man she loved openly, where Tama had to always have an excuse, a reason to be there. Ekaterina’s child would be accepted into their family with open arms, but any child Tama would have would be relegated to the shadows. What gave Ekaterina the right to enjoy these things, where Tama had to deal with the table scraps. Shiranai loved her first. So it was okay, this was okay.

“I know,” Tama finally said, “I love you too, Shiri-tan.” And she fell into his warm embrace.

***​

Tama extricated herself from the pool sometime later, telling Shiranai she needed to cool off after their bath. “Alright, but don’t forget tonight’s Sei’s debut in high society. You need to be there for it, Tachibana-san will be furious if you skip it.”

“I’ll be there, I promise. I’ll even wear the dress that Ne-,” Tama cut her sentence short, guilt flooding her heart, “my family picked out.”

Shiranai noticed the catch, “Are you sure you’re okay? If you’re not feeling well we can postpone it.”

“I’m fine, and delaying it wouldn’t be fair to Sei. I’ll be there, don’t worry.” With that she mustered a cheerful wave and walked off into the night.

Tama’s destination was the Bibliotheca, in the deepest part of the library Kumogakure kept all discovered artifacts that were known to have mystical and dangerous powers. Of course, Tama had turned the Slate and Chalk over to its curator upon their triumphant return to the village. At least that’s what her implanted memories said she did. What she had to see for herself though, was who the curator was. Because who her memory said it was, well it should be impossible.

Tama entered the security code and swiped the passcard she had been given as the Slate’s owner, before stepping into the lift. While descending, she submitted to a retinal scan and released a bit of her chakra so the lift would stop at the correct floor. If an unauthorized person tried to enter this part of the facility, the lift would keep descending and open in a deep cave lined with chakra-draining stone. So she made sure not to screw up the identification process.

Stepping out onto the floor of the Carta Artificiorum where the Slate was housed, she saw another figure facing the Slate. His tricorn hat rested on a table not too far away, and an ornate cross-bolter was strapped to the man’s waist. “How are you alive?” she asked. The man turned to face Tama, and his quizzical expression quickly became one of understanding, and finally mild annoyance.

“Well of course it’s you, Mochizuki. Why couldn’t it have been your sister…,” he grumbled turning back to the Slate. “So you’re the ‘Owner’ of this thing huh? Means you’ve used it. How many times?”

“I lost count after two-hundred.”

“Shit, how are you still sane? Do you know how much this fucks with space-time?” he angrily questioned her, “Those kind of reckless actions are not something the wife of the Shinbatsu-damned Shogun should be taking!”

Tama felt the indignation rising up in her, “It’s not like I had a fucking choice! We were up against a literal manifestation of vengeance! Normal attacks weren’t working, even using the Slate to kill her just postponed the inevitable! It’s not like I was the official wife when I had to use the damn thing, anyway! You were dead, Saeko was dying, Tomo was on the verge of being possessed. I was fucking trying to save the whole damn world, and the child of my best friend! What do you know about what I’ve been through. This is the first instance where anything has gone right, and you’re going to lecture me on reckless fucking actions!” The torrent of words spewed forth from Tama’s mouth, it was something she couldn’t say to Shiranai, or Tomo, or anyone that currently existed. But this man was supposed to have died.

A fist connected to her gut, faster than Tama could react as troubled as she was. “And what, wishing away something you couldn’t figure out was the correct answer? Did it work? Is this what you set out to accomplish when you twisted reality to suit your own ends? Everything has gone right, you say. Right for whom?”

“Right for me! For me dammit!” A wild kick tried to sweep the man off his feet, but was easily dodged. Tama’s enraged and confused mind was in no state for accuracy. “I suffered, I nearly went mad. Do you know how many times I watched Tomo kill Saeko while laughing hysterically?” Another swing and a miss. “Do you know how many times I’ve killed Shiranai with my own two hands while he spat at me contemptuously, calling me a monster?” Tama’s second swing was knocked away by a solid defense. “It’s only fair that I get something out of it, why do I have to set it all back to where it was?” The man expertly swung behind the raging girl, pinning her arms behind her back, and forcing her to the ground. “Why wasn’t it me? Why couldn’t it have been me? I loved him first. I was there first.” Tama dropped, sobbing uncontrollably.

“How is that any different from what Mishil wanted?” Tama didn’t respond, already knowing the answer. “I looked into the information we recovered from Bear. Mishil was a royal twin a long time ago. Royal blood demands heirs, but never more than one. Stability over family. And she was found to have the ability to manipulate prana as well. Nowadays, she would have been molded into a soldier. But back then, she was a monster. It made the decision easy.” Tama didn’t want to understand Mishil, it was her fault this all happened. “But her backstory isn’t important. Her motivations, however, are.” He relaxed his grip and allowed the girl to stand. “Your mission isn’t over, Lord Protector. As shinobi we swear an oath to defend Lightning Country from all threats, and her rulers, regardless of what we may sacrifice. Besides, you’re too soft to erase her completely.”

Tama’s puffy tear-stained eyes shone with new determination, though she glanced back at the lift with tangible regret. Her hand reached out for the Slate once more. “You’re right. I can’t leave things like this, what kind of hero kills the princess and takes her place anyway? Besides, there’s another reason I have to rewrite this.”

“Oh?”

“It’s against site rules to resurrect a dead PC, ❄︎︎︎︎ ❍︎︎⬧︎︎□︎.”

“Heh, ‘atta girl.” And Tama began writing.

***​

Once again the clamor of battle filled her ears. Tomo and Saeko were on the ground alive but injured, Kaede and her Jaegers locked in a desperate battle against the monstrous Mishil, and Timur counseling her to use the Chalk and Slate. “Don’t worry Timur, I’ve already used it,” Tama said. “All that’s left is for me to touch her, can you distract her long enough to get me an opening?”

“Hahah! This is repayment for dakimakura, high-quality goods require high-quality effort!”

Mishil swung at the approaching Timur who blocked her skeletal fist with a scimitar of ancient design. “Ohohohohoho! The true monsters have come out to play, I see. Can you withstand my fury?” She unleashed a torrent of dark miasma upon the immortal warlord and restaurant proprietor. And Tama was able to take the creature’s back.

“You and I need a little heart-to-heart,” the chuunin said as she plunged her hand into Mishil’s core and began absorbing her spirit once more.

“You! Fool, you can’t hope to contain the wrath of the countless forgotten in that meager vessel! I will drown your soul and use you as my instrument of revenge.”

“We’ll see,” Tama responded. And her world went white.

***​

Tama and Mishil stood face to face in a void of darkness. A single soul versus a writhing host of the vengeful. “So you’ve used the Slate to contain us. But you won’t hold us for long. Our will cannot be denied.” Tama walked forward into the mass of souls. Grasping hands and dark tendrils tugged at her, “What you seek to join us? Ahaha! Have you given up at last? Then lose yourself in the endless torment that we have endured for millenia!” A wave of hatred and anguish tried to bury Tama, but she was unaffected. “What? No one soul should have the power to withstand us? What sorcery is this?”

“I don’t have the power to stop you. No one does.”

“Then how?”

“I made a wish?” Tama remarked casually as she pushed wailing souls aside and advanced deeper into the mass of vengeance. She could hear it now, a cry different from the others. A child’s cry.

“Found you. Mishil.” Tama stood over a small girl dressed in rags, sobbing uncontrollably. Tama saw herself, sobbing over the unfairness of the world.

“It’s not fair, I wanted mommy to love me too. I didn’t want to set the room on fire, but the rat was scary! Why is my sister the only one loved. Why did I get kicked out, why am I on the streets. Why did I die? What did I do to deserve this? One day they’ll get what they deserve.”
Tama bent down and spoke to the girl, “You did nothing to deserve the treatment you received.”

“W-who are you?”

“Someone who knows your pain all too well. It took me awhile to accept it though, so I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“I made a wish to meet you, now that I understand things a bit better, and I’m going to grant you your wish.”

“My wish? I wished to destroy the ones who treated me and all those like me, and make them suffer! That was my wish!”

Tama lightly flicked the girl on the forehead, “No it wasn’t.”

“I-I wished to dominate those that trod upon me.”

Another flick, “No it wasn’t.”

“I just wanted to be loved like my sister, I wanted to see her again.”

Tama reached out to hug the girl, “I know. So come with me, and we’ll see her together.”

***​

Mishil’s outer skeleton began to crash around the party. Tomo used his ink tendrils to shelter the injured Saeko, and the Jaegers swiftly backed away to avoid the falling debris. Timur returned to Tomo and Saeko, holding a barely conscious Haikuno princess-style. Tama crawled out from under some bones and headed towards the party, covered in a dark miasma that seemed to be rapidly dissipating.

“Where’s Saeko? I can’t hold them in for long, but she wanted to fulfill her promise to her aunt and uncle.” The chuunin approached her brother and his lover, pulling out her spine as she did so. “Relax, I’m not a doctor but there are at least four other spirits in this mass that have medical training, so I’m sure this won’t have any serious side effects. Plus magical spirit chakra stuff, I’m going to let her work now so don’t kill me.” Tama’s eyes rolled back into her head as the clear voice of MIshil rang out from her mouth. “Hmph, I honor my promises, shinobi. I will heal your lover. Be grateful my soon-to-be mother’s bones are highly mutable, auntie.”

 

[Takaki Saeko]

One month later...

Hail Jashin full of grace, the big day’s finally arrived! I’m scheduled to be discharged from the hospital later this afternoon, after weeks of grueling therapy in which I’ve essentially learned how to walk all over again. No one can explain how I recovered from getting my spinal cord turned into smashed cucumber salad, but from what I’ve told, it involved Tama and her unwashed little hands doing something horrible to my insides. I’m grateful to her, though, as I’m now cleared to return to light duty. It’ll be a long time before I’m able to run and fight like a real ninja again, but given everything that happened, I’d welcome the sedentary life of a desk job for the time being.

Tomo stepped out a few minutes ago to take some of my things back to the apartment. Tama used to stay with me pretty regularly, but as of late she’s been kind of crippled with nausea in the mornings, leading us to joke that she’s gotten knocked up. It’ll be a few hours until Kitsune gives me my final treatment, so for now I’m alone with only my thoughts. A lot has happened since we all snuck into Marsh Country in search of the Chalk.

Soon after our fight with Mishil, Queen Ekaterina gave birth to a healthy baby boy. The way royal names and titles work, he’s going to have several during his life, but for now he’s Prince Shiro vi Kaminari II and the presumed heir to the twin thrones when he comes of age. As expected, there are already plots forming to usurp him and interfere with the unification of the two countries, which will give us shinobi work for many, many years to come.

The hoshikage of Star was immediately pardoned and released from imprisonment, and both she and Chung Hee were rewarded with Bear’s highest military honors. Haikuno, former Kingslayer, returned to Ekaterina’s service as well. Continuing to be her eyes and ears among the common people, he still fights for their interests in a way that would have made Enishi proud. Finally, Aru Goro, the Royal Inventor of Bear and a close confidant of the former regent Mishil, disappeared after an experiment gone wrong on his island. The place has since been blockaded and quarantined, and no one dares approach due to rumors of a fearsome creature that stalks the deserted isle: ManBearPig.

Perhaps as an unintended and unanticipated consequence of Tama’s use of the Chalk, the Lightning Country Council of Nobles abruptly called a unanimous vote of no confidence against Tachibana Ami, resulting in her ouster from the chancellorship, and the ascension of a troubled but popular real estate tycoon: Donado of House Oranji, also known as “The Donado,” for short. Ami, however, was never one to give up power easily, and even now her agents plot from the shadows to regain her former glory.

Marsh Country officially suppressed any mention or news of the battle which took place in the Valley of Queen Semiramis, but rumors still fly around to this day that the brave Generalissimo Kaede fought a pitched engagement against members of the old Kingslayer terrorist organization after they made an attempt on the Dear Leader’s life. As an added security measure, the Dear Leader has been reportedly confined to quarters--Kaede’s quarters--for the foreseeable future. For his safety, of course.

And as for me, I’m about ready to leave this place before my discharge, because the last thing I want to do is waste the afternoon here just so Kitsune can come and diddle me one last time, claiming it’s a “nerve strengthening exercise.” Why are all the doctors in this village so damned sketchy?

In addition, one thing has kept bothering me more and more during this time: We never really figured out what happened to the Chalk and the Slate. After all, Mishil had just been defeated and the entire place was getting ready to collapse. I’m pretty sure that Kaede didn’t take it (thankfully she didn’t seem to know what it was, or care), and neither did Haikuno. Tama and Tomo were busy dealing with me, and I certainly wasn’t in a state of mind to think about looting at the time. Then only person, then, who hasn’t been accounted for, is Timur.

I slowly rise from the bed and change into my casual clothes. After making the sure nurse isn’t coming my way, I quietly slip down the hall toward the main elevators and the exit. There’s still an occasional wobble in my step, but they tell me it’ll go away with more and more practice. It’s easy to slip out of a hospital, by the way. All you have to do is look somewhat normal and walk like you’re trying to get somewhere. Even if you run into a locked door, someone will eventually let you pass if you tell them you forgot your ID.

So, within a few minutes I’m out of the place and on the chilly streets. It’s not long before I reach my destination. I have questions that need to be answered, as well as a craving for falafel.

But Timur’s shop is closed. And from the looks of it, permanently, too. I peer at a handwritten notice tacked to the door.

“To all my customers, including the banned ones: After many years, we are now closed for good. That is right: No Soup For You.

I recently ran into an old but troublesome pair of friends from many years back. These friends, who I call ‘Chalk’ and ‘Slate,’ are stupid and dangerous and need to be watched at all times, so I will be traveling with them for a long while. Hopefully, you will not hear from them ever again.

Thank you for your loyalty and for enjoying my food.

-Amir Tamarlan”

A bittersweet smile creeps over my face. No matter what happens to us, it’s Timur who in the end got the short stick: doomed to spend his days guarding insanely stupid artifacts against the greed and ambition of men and demons for all time. Perhaps it’s a just penance for all of the massacres and wars and atrocities he may have perpetuated over his life, but I still wouldn’t wish that on someone. Well, it’s not my problem and not my place to judge anymore. I have my life to lead, short though it may be against the backdrop of eternity.

The End.​