CW: Explicit language, references to s*icide, references to gassing/drugging, ableist language.
They moved the Celestial Theatre to the isolated depths of the Black Forest, where weekly shows continue to run under a new name: Theatre of Sodality. Harmless, yet accessible for anyone seeking the theatre specifically. Since the fatal crackdown of rebel persecution, there are few who would attend such shows. However for those brave few, the company continues in their tireless trade, and – after the show, in the dead of night, another kind of troupe emerges from the shadows to train until sunrise.
This is where the Mischief have been offered shelter during the brittle winter months, and where they train their small yet cohesive unit under the guidance of their leader, the Rat. Behind him stands his uncle, General Gou, who lends what time he can afford to the Vermin, transforming them from a chaotic gang to worthy soldiers.
Tonight is the same as it is every night. The benches have been stacked against the walls of the theatre to clear the floor. Rows of Vermin spar with bloodthirsty (yet amicable) enthusiasm as the general paces from pair to pair, barking instructions and using a wooden staff to (painfully) correct posture.
Rin and Bucky spar together, as they so oft want to, and first blood had long been drawn. The ex-Rose has taken to the tessen, the iron fan, after a suggestion by Bo and has shown to be adept at the wind style, rivalling Rin.
Every strike of his blades are met with Bucky’s fans, steel on steel singing nonstop. It’s almost musical, if one were paying attention, and the two players are in such harmony it’s bewildering to think their spar is not rehearsed.
Rin throws himself into these sessions with every ounce of energy he has. His mind is drained of thoughts and he has to focus purely on the present to survive. There is no Nuwa, no Mira, no Jun, no war. All the rage is lost to the wind as he too loses himself to it, and there’s nothing closer to peace.
During their break, as the Vermin scatter to the water barrels to hydrate and dry their sweat, Rin finds himself alone outside in the still snowscape. He grabs a handful of clean snow to slake his thirst, grateful to be out of the muggy humidity of the theatre.
Out here, the moon drenched snowscape is silent and stark. There’s the occasional creak of snow-laden trees and the nervous chirping of small birds, but aside from that, there is nothing. Though it’s tranquil, in the Slums the silence is unnerving. Nuwa’s empty house is a memorial and it presses against his mind like a heavy stone. He’s not able to sleep well these days. Less so, since Jun left for Reshun.
“You will lose toes standing out here.”
Rin huffs a laugh and swallows the snow. His mouth has grown numb. “At least I won’t die from the stench.”
Bucky strolls to Rin’s side and stretches out her limbs. Over the months under Iris’ mentorship, the ex-Rose has flourished into an indomitable strength. Bo has also shown interest in training Bucky, and Rin suspects that an initiation into the Otsuki clan may be in the cards for the ex-Rose.
“Vermin are supposed to stink,” Bucky says, the corner of her mouth twitching.
“I have impossible standards.”
They share a smirk and turn their gaze to the thicket beyond. This is yet another reason why Rin enjoys Bucky’s company as of late – they needn’t say a word and still remain comfortable in each other’s presence.
Eventually, Bucky breaks the silence. The look she gives her friend is deep and measured. “You miss him.”
Rin absently touches the frayed thread on his finger. Despite his care, only a single strand keeps the ring together, so he refrains from touching it too much. “Is it obvious?”
“I’m so accustomed to seeing you together, it’s too strange seeing you alone. I imagine the separation is difficult.”
“He’s been writing – as much as he can anyway – and he doesn’t talk about the war at all. I know the idiot’s trying to keep me from worrying, but it makes it harder.”
“I’d imagine Mira’s presence does little to ease those worries.”
Aside from Rin and Jun, Bucky is the only other person who knows the true cause of Nuwa’s death. It was she who approached Rin with suspicions, and her persistence of investigating the matter wore him down so much that the raven finally folded and informed her of the true culprit. He also explained why they must protect the identity of said culprit. While Bucky wasn’t pleased with the idea of protecting Mira, she begrudgingly agreed to do so, by Rin’s request. And for Jun, whom she considers a friend worthy of her trust.
“I just don’t understand it,” the raven mutters, tucking his numb hands under his arms. His expression is as cold as the winter air. “Why would he keep her by his side, knowing what she’s done?”
“I assume Jun has his reasons. Perhaps, he is biding his time. Perhaps, he wishes to keep a close eye on her movements, or hinder them. That is what I would do.”
Rin smiles, faintly. “No, he’s not as calculated as you are. Jun is too sentimental, especially for his family. Even if he hates them, all he can do is rebel quietly and endure their presence.”
Bucky pulls her cloak tight around her body. “You disagree with his method.”
“I disagree with a lot of things Jun does, but I can’t do anything about it. Not if I want to scare him away.”
“You could never scare him away,” Bucky hums, amused. “He is utterly devoted to you. I can see it every time he looks at you.”
The raven clenches his jaw and pulls his hand away from the ring. “Maybe,” he says, flatly.
Recognising his shift in mood, Bucky touches his arm in silent apology. She prudently changes the topic, commenting on the Vermins’ progress.
“That old fart is a useful teacher, I suppose,” Rin says, glancing at the theatre. “I think they’ll be ready soon.”
Bucky drops her hand, expression carefully schooled into impassivity. Even now, Kahin is a sore topic for the ex-Rose.
“I’ve been watching the Rose Palace every night,” he continues. “I know the patrol routes of the night guards and memorised weaknesses in their defence. All we need now is to prepare the Vermin and wait for the right time to strike.”
“But there is hesitation.”
Rin stares at her, unsure how to respond. So she simply smiles and adds, “If not because of the little lord, then because of the Otsukis. Am I right?”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“Lbk vlv–?”
Vtf mjiwis gfjmtfr lcab tfg mbiijg jcv qgbvemfr j yijmx glcu alfv ab tfg cfmx klat j rlinfg mtjlc. “Pa kjr Db, ktb ujnf wf ws glcu. P atbeuta la kbeiv tjnf yffc atf Xelivwjrafg, yea rtf tjr tfg rlutar rfa bc Dfiibk. P atlcx rtf fcpbsr tlr fcaterljrw obg atf teca.”
Well, it was only a matter of time, Rin thinks, easing his tense muscles. It’s easier this way. With the Rat Gang fully initiated into the Otsukis, he has one less thing to hide from them – which is precious energy ill-spent.
“Have you gone hunting with Iris?” he asks in a breath.
“The Guildmaster has invited me on a hunt in a week’s time.”
“Then we can talk more after that. Until then, just know that if we attack Kahin at the wrong time, it won’t just be the imperials who will retaliate.”
“Whatever happens, I will be there at your side.” Her eyes are stormy yet determined, unwilling to expose the true meat of her emotions beneath the roiling anger.
Rin gives her a wicked grin, teeth flashing in the blanched moonlight. “I wouldn’t have anyone else.”
***
After training, Rin leaves his Vermin to rest in the warm carcass of the theatre and follows Gou to the Underground. A new tunnel has been carved into the earth, twisting and winding beneath the forest until it joins a branch of the older, established tunnels. It’s impressive to think how quickly these underground paths are created. Rin has since learned they are thanks to the efforts of an Otsuki witch who has earth-based magic. He’s not sure what god presides over soil and rock, but he can’t imagine it’s anyone spectacular. Even so, these tunnels are integral to the Underground, so he sees the value in this magic.
Along the way, Gou raises the suggestion of initiating the Mischief, praising their rapid progress and energy.
“If they become Otsuki,” Rin says, wary of the idea, “can you guarantee that they’ll remain mine?”
Gou gives the younger man a thoughtful look and breaks into a gruff chuckle. “Knowing my dear cousin, I can’t make that guarantee. He might allow you to keep control of your Vermin for the most part, but he will pull rank on you whenever he sees fit.”
Rin gives the general a wry smile. “He pulls rank on you all the time, doesn’t he?”
“He’s a stubborn fool, your father. Even when I have served as his general for decades, he can be blinded by his ambition. Don’t misunderstand me, kid. Masao isn’t unreasonable. He always considers my stance before making a decision, but when he wants something, it’s difficult to turn his focus elsewhere.”
“Then for now, I won’t risk it. I’ll keep the Mischief close by but they’re staying out of this fight.”
Gou nods, rubbing a hand through his short beard. “A pity. But understandable. Just remember that when war breaks out in the East, your Mischief won’t have the luxury of choice.”
“Better to indulge while we have it.”
“I can see why they call you the Rat.” Gou’s rumbling laugh bounces off the rocky walls and bounds into the hallway beyond.
Before they reach the training chamber, Rin casually asks the general on the campaign in Reshun. The older man is silent for a time, as though he were reluctant to give his nephew any information. But seeing the flickering concern in Rin’s eye, Gou eventually sighs and relents.
“There are great losses on either side,” the general grunts, expression darkening. “The campaign is dragging out longer than expected – and with the winter, the soldiers must also battle against the elements.”
Rin’s stomach twists itself into a painful knot. “Are they–are we winning?”
“There is no winning in war. But if you mean to ask what the outcome of the battle is, it appears we may be on the verge of taking Reshun.”
The Rat falters in his step. He lags behind for a second, feeling numb, and Gou too pauses to glance at the blanching lad. There’s a knowing glint in the general’s eyes when he adds, “There is a strange tale coming from the battlefield. A Healer known as the Lion of Reshun. He who wears blue but treats those in red with the same kindness as he might his own people.”
Rin’s heart leaps into his throat and for a moment, he can’t speak. There’s no doubt what the identity of this Lion is and of course, it would be something as foolish as this. Saving enemy soldiers? Is the little lord so eager to brand himself a traitor?
Head spinning, the raven releases a shaky laugh and continues walking. “Who do you think he is?” Rin asks, heart pounding.
Gou ambles beside, brows creased in consideration. “He is one of three things. A great man. A foolish man. Or a mad man.”
“He’s all three.”
Gou doesn’t ask how his nephew might say such a thing with confidence, as though he were privy to the truth. Then again, Gou has a clue as to whom this Lion may be himself.
When they reach the chamber, they see the Faceless Devil, with his illusory nondescript features, speaking seriously with his senior tyro, Sang – the handsome, wiry youth who had in the past dragged Rin back to the underground after his betrayal.
“I have to meet with Ahui,” Gou says at the archway. “Tell your father I would speak with him in the war room after your training.”
Rin suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at the word ‘father’ and verbally assents. He watches the general continue on down the cavernous hall, churning over his words about the Lion of Reshun. Such a foolhardy quest is expected of the little lord, but it unsettles Rin to the point of nausea.
Even if Mira isn’t to be trusted, there is one thing the Rat can count on her to do – and that is to protect her young master. At the very least, she will ensure that Jun returns to him whole, which is the thin tether that keeps his fraught senses intact.
“Looking as gloomy as ever, Rin,” Sang says in mock amicability, striding towards the archway with his sheathed sword in hand. His almond eyes are narrowed in wicked mirth. “I’ve heard that the chief’s been working you to the bone. And yet, still no marked improvements. I don’t know why you ever bother to show up to these sessions.”
“Fuck you too, Sang,” Rin hums, folding his arms and leaning against the archway pillar. “You know, men who like to disparage me tend to crave my mouth the most.”
Sang flushes a deep, furious red. “Everyone else might be willing to forget what you did, but I’m not,” Sang hisses, stepping close. “I don’t care if you’re the chief’s spawn. You betrayed the Otsukis and for that, you should give your life in recompense.”
“I’m absolved by the chief himself. His word’s the law down here, ain’t it?” Rin shrugs, inspecting his nails in the arcane light. “No point fighting the law. You’d best move on from your obsession with me, pet, and focus on your swordplay. It’s like watching a child use a sword for a butterknife.”
Sang laughs caustically. “I’m open to a duel anytime, Rat. Then we shall see who is worthy to stand at the chief’s side as his tyro.”
The senior tyro shoulder checks Rin as he stalks past, his expression particularly ugly, but the raven doesn’t pay him any mind. There are bigger things to toil over than a petty squabble with a jealous dipshit.
Rin sheds his winter layers and shoes, until he’s down to his undershirt and pants. The polished wooden floor is pleasantly warm beneath his bare feet and he takes his time padding over to the centre of the training platform.
Masao takes a sip of water from his water flask and joins his tyro on the platform, looking refined in his loose black hakama worn over a blood red kimono. His hair has been pulled up into a high ponytail, exposing a pale neck and strong shoulders.
“You kept your temper,” Masao says with a subtle raise of the brow.
“There’s nothing to keep. If I got angry every time someone acted like an ass, I wouldn’t look half as good as I do now.” The raven begins his pre-training stretches, trying to ignore the fact that this is a habit ingrained into him by his last teacher.
“I commend your patience. Your anger is more meaningful on the battlefield.”
“Will there be?”
Masao pauses, taken aback by Rin’s curt tone, then elegantly says, “Excuse me?”
“A battlefield. You’ve got an entire army beneath Hanjuyang and there hasn’t been any movement. Nothing significant anyway.”
“You believe the cloudless sky to be empty. The silent lake, void of life.”
“What’s your meaning?” Rin scowls, impatiently.
“There is significant movement everyday. You cannot see what you see and expect it to be everything.”
Meaning, stop asking questions because I don’t trust you. Rin huffs through his nose and shakes out his warm limbs. “Fine. Let’s just get on with the training. I don’t want to spend any more time with you than I have to. I expect you feel the same way.”
The Faceless Devil frowns lightly, but doesn’t protest nor confirm. He simply waves his hand gracefully through the air, producing an inky black smoke. The smoke forms characters in the air, five in total. Rin doesn’t recognise any of them.
“Today I wish to discuss the five elemental forms of martial arts.Water. Earth. Fire. Wind. Nexus.” Masao touches each character as he lists them and they gently dissipate.
“Nexus?” Rin blinks. “Like the celestial realm?”
“Indeed. I will come to that later. For now, I will display the five forms. Some, you may be familiar with. Wind, for example.” The older man goes through the rudimentary wind katas, slightly different from what Mira had taught Rin, but otherwise recognisable. Every movement is so fast, it’s difficult to tell where they start and where they end. “Wind is elusive, unexpected. It comes without warning and leaves destruction in its wake. At times, it is gentle, invisible, yet even the slightest breeze changes the shape of the world. Those proficient in this form can wound an opponent without their knowledge. It is not unheard of for one to die hours after a battle with a wind-style fighter.”
“Earth.” This one is also familiar to Rin. It’s the little lord’s favoured style. Masao’s katas become stronger, deliberate, and oddly, the man suddenly appears twice as large. “Earth is power. The strength of the form should create a ruthless presence and intimidate your opponent. True masters of this form have not drawn blood in decades.”
Rin raises a brow. “What’s the point in mastering it if you don’t fight?”
“On the contrary,” Masao smiles. “They do fight. However, their opponents concede long before first blood is drawn.”
“Earth is about intimidation?” Rin tilts his head, thinking of his tender-hearted lover. At first, he’s doubtful. But then he recalls those precious rare moments, when Jun reveals a side to himself that makes Rin’s heart shake. His deep, penetrating glare. The dark, cloying presence that transforms the little lord into something powerful. Something inexplicable. Maybe the earth form suits him after all.
Masao continues his lecture. “Fire is heat and aggression. It is fury.” His movements become raging and violent, merciless in their attack. “Fire aims to destroy the opponent before they have landed the first blow. Like an inferno blazing through a forest, it is swift in its destruction.”
The next is water. Masao’s specialty. He moves almost like he’s dancing, limbs gracefully arcing and seamlessly flowing from kata to kata. “Water is fluid and all-encompassing. One should know to conserve energy while maximising attack. Each wave erodes the boulder, until it crumbles into sand.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It can be. But you could also view it as an exercise in resilience.”
“Exhausting.”
“And the final form. Nexus.” Masao launches into a dazzling, disorienting display of magic and melee – the katas are…well, there doesn’t seem to be any. He’s like a maddened beast, arching and clawing and lurching in ways that are unsettling. And every strike is accompanied by a potent explosion of black smoke, the remnant haze wrapping itself around his wild form, coiling and tightening like a giant snake. It ends with an ear-shattering BANG, as he slams his palm into the ground, and black smoke bursts from beneath his hand, shooting outwards like spilled oil.
Rin tries to jump out of the way, but he’s too late – the oil-like magic soaks into his feet, rooting him to the spot. His flesh becomes ice-cold and numb, nerves screaming in agony until they fall silent. In the end, he has no feeling in his feet, not just numbness but an absence, as though they have been cut off at his ankles. The sensation makes him nauseous.
“The nexus form,” Masao repeats, straightening up with a faint smile. “Spontaneous, creative, primal. It is the forbidden form that is the perfect embodiment of the union between mana and flesh. Mortal and celestial. Our roots, our heritage. Some believe the nexus form corrupts the soul and steals the senses, however I know it to be the purest form.”
The Faceless Devil curls his hand and the magic releases Rin from its nauseating grip. Feeling rushes back into his feet in a burst of heat and pain, and he stumbles with a hissed curse. Blood pumps through the resurrected flesh, bringing colour to the grey extremities. “Thanks for the demonstration,” he grouses, bending down to rub his tingling toes.
“You are most welcome,” Masao says, deadpan.
Rin bites his tongue, tempted to say something caustic, but his curiosity takes priority. He straightens up and asks, “Why do people think the nexus form is so bad?”
“Propaganda. When the Mother outlawed the arcane practices, the nexus form was also banned. To discourage its practice, the imperial propagandists spread the notion that it would corrupt the soul and irreparably harm the user. Over time, this falsity became the truth, and this style became the forbidden form.”
“But you know it.”
“I do.”
“How?”
Masao brings his hands behind his back with a calm expression. “I have had a fascination with the nexus form since childhood. I was lucky to find a master to teach me.”
“Where did you find him?”
“I found her through Nuwa. She was a classmate from Nuwa’s conservatory days.” The mention of the old Spymaster triggers a shared pain within the two men. A tense silence falls, during which they struggle with barely healed wounds. Eventually, Masao raises a fist to his mouth, coughs lightly, and continues, acting as though nothing were amiss. “From our sessions, I have observed that you favour the wind. You have a good foundation but I believe you may benefit from using the fire form. Perhaps, a hybrid of nexus and fire. You are aggressive in your attacks and driven by your emotions. While this may be useful to you in the thick of battle, it allows for no comprehension or strategy. And, it is ultimately self-serving. You must find a balance, honing the fire while allowing enough space for it to breathe. I believe learning the nexus form would give you this balance.”
Rin takes all of this in silently, for once paying attention to what the man has to say. He already incorporates his magic in his combat, but to learn to do so efficiently – and brutally, from what he saw in Masao’s demonstration – would be a definite advantage. A deep, keening hunger clenches his guts. Not for food, but for the power this knowledge would bring.
Perhaps Masao sees this hunger in Rin’s face, for he suddenly seems uneasy. The Devil steps close to Rin and holds his shoulder, like he’s trying to stabilise the younger man. “I will teach you everything you wish to know,” he says, quietly. “Settle your heart.”
The raven jerks his shoulder out of Masao’s touch, but he doesn’t move away. “It’s settled,” he says, irritated at Masao’s calm tone. He preferred the guy when they were fighting in the cemetery, mad, vitriolic, and a little unhinged. That Devil was far easier to stomach than this austere, reverent teacher bullshit.
“Your daggerwork is impressive,” Masao says, lowering his hand. “Interesting you should choose to fight with them. I find them rather personal and best suited off the battlefield.”
“You mean assassination,” Rin says, bluntly.
“Yes. Those who use daggers as primary weapons tend to work in the umbrage.”
“Is that where you want me?”
“Is that where you wish to go?”
Rin pauses, seriously considering this question. His eye glints with something cold and determined, a look that brings confidence to Masao. “I’ll go where I need to.”
The Faceless Devil smiles thinly. “Very good.”
Before they finish their session, Masao enquires his tyro about his magic. Specifically, the Luna light. “What is the source of this power? It is powerful and rivals my own.”
Rin dries his sweat with a small towel as he considers his answer. For some reason, he feels comfortable enough to speak true. If the Devil will be training him in his magic, then he should be privy to the source of it. “It’s not inherited,” Rin finally says. “I’ve been…lent this magic by a god. A really persistent, annoying god that’s more like a parasite. But…his magic has its uses.”
Masao’s eyes turn crescent in amusement. “Who is this persistent, annoying god that has blessed you so?”
“He says he’s Luna.”
“The Imperial God of the Night?”
“Eurgh. Don’t you start.”
“And what exactly is the nature of your relationship with this Luna god?” Masao raises a hand to his mouth, as though to cover a smile.
Rin purses his lips. Yeah, yeah. I see you, asshole. “There’s no relationship. There’s nothing between us. He’s just taken up board in my head for whatever reason and I get to use his stupid light magic in return. If anything, he’s possessing me.”
“That sounds serious. Should I perform an exorcism?”
“Don’t bother. I’ve tried already,” Rin says, bitterly.
Masao releases a breathy cough into his fist, that suspiciously sounds like a laugh. When he drops his hand, his face is back to its impassive calmness. “So the only magic you have inherited is your mother’s.”
“And yours, if you’d ever teach it to me.”
“Inheritance cannot be taught.”
“Then what’s the point of you?”
“You would do well to keep this from others,” Masao says, suddenly severe. His eyes are like steel as they bore into the youth. “Your magic is obscure, but the source should be unknowable. For your protection.”
Rin feels a prickle at the back of his neck. “…Why? What’s wrong with my magic?”
“Nothing is wrong with it. There are those who view the Luna god as one that is evil and a harbinger of misfortune. I speak from experience – the cruellest are those who act out of fear and ignorance. Do not give them munition.”
“…Is Luna evil?”
“Has he done anything to make you believe as such?”
Rin rubs his brow, feeling a headache coming on. “No. In fact, he’s only done the opposite. He’s protected me my entire life. If it weren’t for him…I’d be bones in the ground.”
Masao smiles and passes him the water flask. “Then you have yourself a rather useful parasite.” And although Rin is loath to, he can’t help but begrudgingly agree.
WELCOME BACKK and congrats for reaching chapter 100!!!!!!
Pls are you ok get some sleep ;-;
definitely no time to re read from the beginning right now but if one day i do i know where i should go~
So damn good. <3