Both his family’s home and also Chinatsu’s were currently in the process of burning themselves, but if they didn’t get going soon, the head start would all be for nothing. He could understand a reluctance to leave, really, especially from Yujin, considering that he’d left the estate the previous night without Naomi, but it would hardly matter if they were all killed on their way out of Edo.
Masurao took a hesitant step towards his home, glancing back at Tatsuki and Yujin. Tatsuki refused to glance up, a deep sadness covering her features, however; there was something knowing across her expression as well. Yujin had expressed nothing, even as their home went up in flames, his expression remained as it was. His face remained stoic, passive, as if he were just there. If Masurao had to put a word to it, Yujin looked like he was an empty shell, dead. He and Tatsuki had managed to say goodbye to the inn owner, and though he and the inn owner never saw eye to eye, the older man was sad to see them go.
"We should go," Masurao spoke, his voice low and solemn. Tatsuki placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly before falling into step with Yujin. There was nothing left for him now. Everything he had, everything he owned was now burning before him, just like everything inside of him. Though, perhaps it wasn't the best word to describe it, the burn. It felt more like a cold chill to him, his chest constricting ever so lightly, before he had almost lost the ability to keep breathing. He was leaving her behind, and she was to be his wife soon. There was nothing more he could do for her.
He had given her multiple chances at freedom, and she continued to reject them, all for the notion of revenge. He couldn't do more for her, and as a result, he was leaving everything behind. He would heal, maybe, in time, but for now, he would remain as this empty husk he felt. "Asami," he called to his sister. The Oni woman nodded her head and glanced towards the group. She could see the reluctance to leave in their faces, but this was to be for the best. They would be sheltered and safe, though, not all of them would be. There was one who could not come... and she mourned for her brother.
They were not, in truth, easy goodbyes for anyone, really. Makoto and Yuzuki had both spend their whole lives in Edo, essentially. They had been raised here from the time they were very small children, as had the triplets. This had been Chinatsu’s home for her entire life, where she met her husband Hayabusa, and then where she lost him. It was the place she’d given birth to her only child, and now the place they would both leave behind them. The parting was hardly easy, but they would make it because it was necessary. Even if Edo was all of that to them, it was still only a place. And all of them knew that home was about people, not locations.
With the rest then, they turned, faces grim and treads tight, and departed from what had once been the place their home was, setting their feet upon the trail that led eastward, towards the parts of the country still firmly in the hands of Nobunaga’s enemies. The journey was a long one, and in many places difficult, but it was not until the third day that the fact that they only had one horse became a problem.
When it did, it did so in a rather spectacular fashion. Yuzuki, without making any sign of it or telling the others, was experiencing a great deal of residual pain in her abdominal wound, which despite repeated applications of what little ki she could muster, was still not fully healed. She put it down to the fact that her energy was still somewhat corrupted by what had been done to the shrine, and would take a while to level out again. Even so, it was putting considerable strain on her, but she refused to complain, because they were passing through the mountain, and neither her mother nor Mako’s would be able to make the climb without assistance. Two people was about all the horse could handle, so she resolved to push through it and say nothing. She refused to be the reason Nobunaga caught up to them.
They were walking along a rather thin ridge along the side of a mountain, the narrowest point in the pass. It was barely wide enough for Mako’s surefooted horse, and Yuzuki had volunteered to take point, since her steps were light and she would be able to tell everyone if they were about to encounter a particularly-treacherous spot. Also, if a section of the pass had trouble holding her weight, the others would need to find a different way across.
Unfortunately, her injury was making her a little less cautious than normal, and sometimes she forgot to test a step before committing to it. On one such occasion, the placement of her foot caused the ground to give way beneath her, sending her pitching forward. She was going to fall down the side of this mountain… and she didn’t know if she’d be able to get up again.
Three days of travel was taking a toll upon everyone, it seemed, perhaps none more than the injured Yuzuki, and the elderly Chinatsu. Everyone knew the risks they were going to be taking with this journey, and Asami had warned them all that it was not going to be easy, nor was it going to be quick. It was a tedious journey, one that was going to require a lot out of them, and she wasn't so sure they would be able to make the journey completely. The revelation sent a small sigh from her as she turned to stare at her brother. Yujin, though he didn't appear to be, was still under the same influence he had been since they left. He didn't even laugh nor crack a joke at anything, and it was unlike him.
Masurao tried getting the Oni to talk, but Yujin just seemed void of a voice. He said nothing, did nothing, and hardly ate when they stopped to do just that. Masurao was worried for his brother, but he supposed it might be best to leave the Oni alone for now. Tatsuki had certainly made no effort to comfort him, but that was because she knew she could not be the one to do so. Her brother ached, and she knew why. But what could she tell him that he probably already told himself? She remained quiet, instead, hanging in the back with the triplets and Asami throughout the voyage.
They had come to a narrow pass, and Yuzuki was the one ahead of them, something that caused Masurao to frown. He might not have been intelligent, nor perhaps smart enough to know things, however; he could see that the wound still bothered her, and he wanted to help her in any way he could. He was behind her when they walked the narrow pass, and immediately, his hand snatched out to grab hers, pulling her back from the ledge so that she didn't fall. He cradled her close to him as he pressed up against the side, keeping them both from falling along with the rest of the mountain side. "Are you alright?" he questioned, glancing down at her with a worried expression.
He sighed softly, and glanced towards his sister, who nodded her head and maneuvered around the group. She might not have been as light as Yuzuki, however; she was still a trained Ninja, and could still be light on her feet when she needed to be. "You need to rest, Yuzu, or you'll open your wounds again," he spoke, peeling himself away from her. Instead, he walked so that his back was positioned in front of her, and stared off in front of him. "Get on, I'll carry you," he stated, waiting for her to do so. He could do that much for her, seeing as she wouldn't be able to share the horse with Chinatsu and Makoto. He could be her horse for now.
The lurching feeling in the pit of her stomach aborted almost as soon as it had come, and she found herself clinging to Mao’s hand for dear life as he maneuvered her back onto the ledge like she weighed nothing at all. She supposed that, for someone such as himself, she might as well have. She shook for a few moments after she was set back down, alarmed at just how close she’d come to tumbling down the rocky mountainside, and choked back a sob that threatened. Now was hardly the time, though the stress of the journey was great. The least she could do was make herself as helpful as possible, and when he offered to carry her, she at first looked uncertain, hesitating with one hand loosely clasped at her sternum, her palm near her beating heart, which was presently frantically-paced, the adrenaline of her near-fall pushing it to work harder.
“Yuzuki.” The stern word belonged to Makoto, who had for most of the journey been trailing well behind the others, serving essentially as rear guard, in case their pursuers should find them. His speed also enabled him to set false trails, which would hopefully confound the demo hounds long enough for them to make it over the mountains. Nobunaga’s men would be stupid to follow them into the east, though there was no mistaking that it was still possible, since they would likely be killed for their failure should they return empty-handed. Whatever the case, they needed to make it out onto the plains before then. He might have to kill a few of the trackers as they went, and trust that he could get away fast enough to avoid being killed himself.
Right now, however, his primary concern was his sister. She was in no shape to continue walking herself, especially not when the trail was this treacherous. He would make the same offer himself, were it not necessary for him to continue covering their tracks. So he pushed her with a word in the direction he knew she needed to take, and she acquiesced, likely more because of the pain than his interference. Continuing to walk with an abdominal injury that severe would be no easy task—he didn’t want her to pull a stitch.
“Okay,” she conceded, climbing gingerly onto Mao’s back and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her arms, she settled loosely over his shoulders, trying to pull at her wound as little as possible. “But if it ever gets hard to carry me, you have to put me down.” She didn’t want to slow anyone down, and even hanyou strength had to have limits, right? When they were off again, and she could do so beneath the hearing of anyone else, she set her chin over his left shoulder, and murmured softly into his ear. “Thanks, Mao-Mao.”
Their journey came to an end another two weeks after. Makoto had gradually slain most of their pursuers as they went through the treacherous mountains, and the rest were not terribly difficult to deal with. The demon hounds had scattered after that, having no real desire to keep up the pursuit when not compelled to do so, and the last half of their journey took place over rolling hills and plains. There was a lot of farmland out this way, and they passed many small villages, where humans working in fields and rice paddies stopped to gawk at the strange mixed company that passed them, though none of them made any hostile moves, or seemed to expect an attack. It must be nice, to live somewhere the oni were not all out to kill you, Mako decided. But it prepared them poorly for the war that was to come.
Masurao smiled when she complied, and settled onto his back. With a warm smile, he continued on with her, carrying her as if she were as light as a feather, and truly, she was. He blinked though when she spoke, and let a low chuckle escape him. "You're welcome, Yuzu," he stated, the smile inching just a fraction wider. "Are you kidding? You could never be too heavy for me. I'll carry you the rest of the way," he spoke, amusement laced in his voice, though he knew he could carry her all the way if he needed to. Hanyou were strong, that was a given, but even they had their limits. Thankfully, Masurao really never knew those limits.
Two weeks later saw the group in the hillside of Kyoto, spectators watching the group approach. Some recognized and smiled towards Asami, as she inclined her head towards them and smiled, while others waved in greeting. It was nice, to be accepted somewhere and not be threatened or attacked. Perhaps, they could call this their new home in time, however; they were not going to be optimistic about it. Things changed, that was inevitable.
It wasn’t much longer until they reached the city that would house them. It was of a size with Edo, or close enough, called Sendai. Though referred to as the east, it was actually mostly north, in the Honshu region of the country. It was here that the group of them were shown their lodgings for their stay—a medium-sized house for all of the soon-to-be-permanent residents, and rooms at an inn for the rest of them. Yuzuki almost immediately collapsed into her futon, falling into a deep sleep and staying there, but Makoto was able to confirm that it was just a sleep, and not a more prolonged period of unconsciousness as before.
The rest of those remaining gathered in the downstairs room of the inn, as apparently there was someone who wished to meet them. Makoto, Yujin, Masurao, Tatsuki, and Asami occupied a table, along with Nanami, who’d come to ensure that everyone else made it all right. She was less tired from the journey than some of them, as she had spent a good half of it on horseback, walking now and then to give the creature a break so that it carried only Chinatsu. Still, she was worn out, but not enough to neglect making sure that her eldest and her surrogate niece Yuzuki were safe. She was still a Yoshida, after all, and her duty was to her family.
When their guest entered, he was flanked by several grim-looking oni guards. As tall as any of them, he was somewhat less broad, but to take that as an indication of decreased strength would evidently be a mistake. Two oversized naginata were crossed over his back, and a full compliment of swords at his waist, including a longblade—an odachi. He was armored somewhat lightly compared to his men, his nose and mouth covered by a half-metal mask not unlike what some ninja or Slayers wore when dealing with highly-corrosive poisons. His most striking features, however, were those that were entirely his. Many oni had white hair, at least in their true forms, but his was long, luxuriant, and bereft of the slightest hint of color. Unlike the rest of his kind, his skin, too, was incredibly pale, bordering on semitranslucent. Like Yujin, he was heterochromatic—his right eye was a vibrant violet and his left an equally-bright teal color. It was safe to guess that this was the Dragon.
He had barely looked their way before there was a sound of crashing chinaware—Nanami had dropped her teacup onto the tatami mat next to her and shattered it. The sound drew his attention, and the Dragon glanced in her direction before freezing in place, his eyes wide. “I-Isamu?” Her tone was somehow more fragile than it was usually, and Makoto’s eyes snapped suspiciously between his mother and this oni.
The Dragon responded by reaching up behind him and untying the mask, something that was not a usual occurrence if the looks his men exchanged were any indication. It fell away from his face, to reveal the fact that he was half-smiling, something like nostalgia in his expression. “Nanami.” His tone was light, but there was an underlying note of authority in it even so, an indication that if he so desired, it could become thunderous at a moment’s notice.
“It has been many years.”