2026-01-04: Reprisals
- Log: Reprisals
- Cast: Shiryuu Ryouhara, Kurou Ryouhara
- Where: Point 23, Nagano
- OOC Date: 2026-01-04
- IC Date: Sep 05 2012
- Summary: During the period of time the shirogarasu disappeared, the remaining council in the clan chose once again to sanction power over people. Now a difficult choice must be made.
- Content Warning: Violence, execution, death.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
"Under the cover of the Dark Hour, Infiltrate the the village of steel. Under my supreme orders, the apprehension of the Yongarasu who participated in the tripartite vote for the corruption of Ryouhara Kouzou and the consequent cooperation with external powers in contravention of the order of 'gokuhi' is authorized. Among these Yongarasu, the following names are prioritized: Tsuchigarasu Ryouhara Utahiko, and Kazegarasu Ryouhara Kazuhira. In addition, the Hogarasu, Tenzen Ryouhara's presence is demanded.
"If there is any resistance or objection, the breaking of the Yongarasu's limbs is authorized. If there is any further resistance, the neutralization of hostilities via any alternative means is authorized in this order of priority: Utahiko, Kazuhira, Tenzen.
"You are under explicit orders not to injure other clan members unduly, and where possible, you will travel beneath their notice to the meeting shrine where the Yongarasu gather tonight to carry out your mission. Carried with you will be a scroll of absolute protection; every member of Ryouhara who defies your mission will be in direct contravention of Shirogarasu, and I will shepherd the removal of each hand that interferes in your mission in contravention of my will as shihaisha.
"When it is done, gather each member of the Yongarasu, gagged and bound, to my location underneath the Renge Kouhigoki. There, we, together, will decide the fate of the Yongarasu who think my absence means they may do as they will."
It is not an easy thing Shiryuu Ryouhara charges his kouhai to do. Inside of the Dark Hour, their targets are locked inside of nigh-impenetrable coffins. Outside, they are shinobi arguably just as lethal and more experienced than most of the ninkougakusha in the village. The Yongarasu are ruthless, and their eyes are omnipresent along the way to the village hidden in the sprawling mountain valley not far from the Chikuma River.
Amongst the Yongarasu, it is no hard thing to ascertain why Shiryuu named and prioritized each as he did.
Kazuhira is the Kazegarasu, and uses a form of falconry in conjunction with uncommonly light ninkou weapons. He is the weakest of the Yongarasu, but the father of Shuuhei and Kouhei Ryouhara, survivors of the Kannenka Project, owing to why he is a member of council. He is likely to be one to have voted for the act that blinded Kouzou.
The other likely vote is Utahiko, the Tsuchigarasu. He relies on heavy tethering weapons like the meteor hammer and underground explosive ninkou, the strongest Ryouhara without supralunary power. He has been in direct opposition to the coup that killed Setsuya since day one, but has grudgingly capitulated.
Tenzen, the Hogarasu, is the only one given the grace and option to appear of his own volition. While he is a well known user of firebombs and arson, the reserved politician is known for his conservative stance, and was arguably the greatest supporter of the pure bloodline's claim.
Not that any of that matters.
It has been sometime since the Dark Hour has ended, and a boy perches on the arm of the Renge Kouhigoki, the mechanical ornamental statue at the base of the Ryouhara pagoda. His grey hagoromo haori has been repaired, and his injured arm is now out of its sling. The sheathed Bankasoujin sits across his shoulders, parked lopsided across his shoulder bag. This time, it is no in its ornamental red bag, and the boy's fingers interlace over his knee, testing the new range of motion.
Dark brown eyes of two shades stare at the thirty foot circle drawn in the ground in front of the statue idly. The moon hangs in the sky bright and bold, a fat, waning thumbnail of grey-white accentuating the light of paper lanterns hung over the circle. Even now, after the Dark Hour, in sublunary time, his eye burns.
A slow, even breath steels the young man's cold nerves, as the shihaisha waits to see how many will have to be broken for the justice of heaven.
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
At this words, Kurou listened. And in their finality, he spoke without hesitation: "Understood."
For he did, beyond even a shinobi's loyalty to his Shirogarasu. He understood it, because his blood grew heated and his own bones rattled to hear their names, knowing what they had done the moment the opportunity showed itself. Knowing how they wished to act, their hands only stilled by the fear of another's presence. Cowardice grows where strength should have.
Today, Kurou is less a dog given command and more a dog finally let loose of his collar. Even grim nostalgia cannot retexture his infiltration through the Dark Hour.
Utahiko, Kazuhira, Tenzen.
In that order, precisely. Raw earthen power to be dominated before it knows there is a fight. Swift wind to be run down before it knows it understands the currents are off and flees beyond reach -- and before others can be called to break their bones on Kurou's resolve. Flame will know what is coming by then, and can choose how much of itself to burn out.
Under Renge Kouhigoki, Kurou pulls in his quarry by Soumeiunsatou's chain to the center of the circle, and under light of the moon's judgment. Each is bound and gagged, as instructed, the Tsuchigarasu with chains and forcibly rendered unconscious by venom as much as force from the altercation that occurred within the same second the Dark Hour broke. He lays claim to the majority of the bruises Kurou will soon show even so.
The Kazegarasu's binds are drawn tight enough to bite into the skin, marking it with friction burns, which may well be a match for the scrapes Kurou suffered in his relentless pursuit. The gag is double layered.
Yet the Hogarasu has been gagged with cloth instead of tape. His ropes are firmly knotted, but allow the comfort of fidgeting movement, were one needed for it -- perhaps even the illusion of potential escape, but not the reality. A formal choice was never given, just the wordless one: formalities will be taken. Comply, or the pragmatic will take their place.
Kurou yanks his chain back into his own grip and looks upon the men he has ambushed, assaulted, and detained with cold eyes before stepping from the circle's radius. He circles and stretches his wrists, bones giving a quiet crack in the night before becoming silent with his machinations.
"For the Tsuchigarasu, three," Kurou reports. "One with four broken fingers on one hand, and a broken thumb on the other. Two stood down with fractures and bruising. I request mercy on their behalf. It was a reaction of instinct, with no way to understand the situation until it was well underway."
"The Kazegarasu... six. Three bruised. One, broken arm. Two required broken legs to efficiently prevent pursuit. I have not verified if misinformation plaid a part in their stubbornness."
"... And finally... two. Stood down and uninjured."
Kurou's gaze lifts up toward Shiryuu as he finally, only now, gently rolls up the chain of his weapon and sheathes a sword still hungry for blood. But... there has been enough spilled of Ryouhara. No. For what remains of their clan...
... Kurou will only take the bones as authorized, and as is owed by their debt.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
His eyes seem to glow in the light, the silhouette with the silver hair, back from the dead.
There is a faint scent of smoke on the wind, with no alarm bells. Shuuhei and Kouhei would have been the most dangerous souls to face, the other two boys possessing supralunar power. However they were nowhere near, busy with their commitments in Sumaru to the Order, to the Ijuuin.
Busy with their commitments to Kouzou, who still wailed uncontrollably in a safehouse, plagued by the visions of his own crimes.
Shiryuu's antipathy is plain as the younger boy arrives with the three in tow, on the end of Soumeiunsatou's chain. Truthfully, the feat would have been near impossible for anyone but a supralunar shinobi -- one unconscious and two others drug by force into the conspiring light of the lanterns and the moon. Even then, a boy should not have been able to manage it, or any of the things tonight.
Other boys do not have the 'strength of conviction' that Kurou does.
"Aa." Shiryuu's reply to the sterile report is harsh, a single sound to fill the air. Eleven shinobi to lay down their lives for the Yongarasu. Only nine to suffer the swords of fate.
Shiryuu is absolutely a man of his word. But he can be swayed. A slow blink follows, and the boy stands, putting a sneaker underneath himself to balance nimbly on the arm of the mechanical aragami statue. His hands disappear into his haori's sleeves as they drop at his sides.
"Exemplary work. I have another choice for you to make," the boy tells Kurou, without explaining further, his attention instead shifting to the captives, the council at the head of the Ryouhara clan.
Tenzen, whom complied most readily, seems the most off-put by his bindings, though he is calm and only gives the Shirogarasu a level look below the edge of his brow. Kazuhira is the most animated, looking as if he may take flight at any second were he not so squarely bound, his shoulders wringing in sharp, fast turn. He does not look at Shiryuu, instead bitterly regarding his captor, eyes stabbing up only to scan the treeline. He is unable to whistle, unable to gesture. It is likely the only reason he is not loose yet.
Utahiko, on the other hand, is silent. He is entirely too unconscious, stripped of his ninkou, to even be a consideration. The ground is painted with the trail his body made in the dirt, his blood.
"'Hanzaisha.'" Shiryuu's single word hovers overhead like the sword of Damocles. Sinner, criminal. "What you have done is already known. It is not my interest to demand answers. Explanations. There is none that will satiate me, who have said that no tolerance will be shown to betrayers. Please do not misunderstand."
He is almost kind.
"We are not equals, us and you. You are under our protection. Not the other way around. Today, you are not 'Yongarasu,' cherished shinobi of the clan. But 'Hanzaisha.' And tonight, you are not subject to my protection."
The hiss of a blade exits its sheath as the boy folds the saya into his hand, as he pulls the black blade of Bankasoujin into the wan light. Its color almost causes it to disappear in the night.
"However, it appears that my charge to execute the law of the clan is not within the rule of 'synthesis.' Synchronicity is the only fairness in this world, and as the pure blood, I have walked a blessed existence. I have not faced the Shinigami of the Hollow Hill, nor do I know what it is to let the black take over my body. Therefore, the crime is not one I will sentence. I must rely on ...another."
With that, Shiryuu alights on the ground, a featherlight step. His mien is as cold as ice as he steps over the captives, the razor curve of his sword floating just over the ground, just over their legs. Over Utahiko's prone neck. One glance -- disappointment -- is traded with Tenzen, before the Shirogarasu turns towards Kurou.
"Children should not execute the responsibilities of men," the young man remarks, an edge of regret in the steel of his voice. "...but it is the nature of shinobi to exist in ill luck. Kouhei and Shuuhei are too close to the Kazegarasu, and Kouzou's judgment is unsound. Forgive me. It is you whom I will place the fates of these men's lives in."
His eyes half-lid, sadly.
"...you are the only one who understands what it is to be terrorized by the moon."
The saya jams into the ground, and the young man reaches into his haori, drawing three black feathers. The quill points orient on Kurou, a plain offering.
"It is mine to discharge the obligations of the shihaisha. But you'll decide. For each one you keep, a life will be owed to you. For each one you drop at a man's feet, a head will fly."
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Kurou was forged from two fronts: that awakened, supralunar power, and the hell that came before it, when it was hours that were not filled with monsters that were the truly unbelievable ones. But... perhaps it truly his his conviction that is uncontested tonight. Kurou regrets to think that it is also his loyalty not just to Shiryuu, but to Ryouhara itself that wins against those who claim to lead it to its brighter future.
Yet to be offered another choice after all of this...
Even Kurou's stoicism does not fully bury the light of surprise in his eyes, which soon follow Shiryuu's as he speaks to the Yongarasu. He trusts in his own work, yet it is always prudent to remain on guard with shinobi. If any should act, Kurou will have to make a judgment that he can only apologize for later.
... Except judgment is exactly what he is asked to give, and it is Shiryuu who apologizes.
Kurou's eyes close as it falls over him. It is a weight nigh unbearable, and he knows it is but an inkling of the burden that has been placed upon Shiryuu himself by weak men such as these. It is not Shiryuu's weakness that hands it over in this case. It is his desire to see what is right done.
The ones who deserve most to judge are no longer here to do it. Even with the Dark Hour ended, Gashadokuro stirs in the sea of Kurou's soul... dozens of lost voices rendered silent. Kurou now holds the scales, weighing feathers instead of bones.
"You offered me mercy for a great crime, Shirogarasu," he begins, tone soft. They both know what mitigating circumstances were involved with such a choice... ones the Yongarasu do not get to claim. But Kurou will, for the sake of his judgment, pretend that is not a factor.
"... The Yongarasu have also experienced your mercy. They have shown what they will do with that mercy. ... But I am not a politician, Shirogarasu, nor am I a leader. It is fortunate for me that the men before us have already demonstrated their idea of what is just... And each has agreed sacrificing Ryouhara blood in the name of clan strength is a righteous act."
Kurou gently pulls a black feather into his grasp.
"Utahiko, the Tsuchigarasu..."
... and drops it.
"Tenzen, the Hogarasu..."
... and drops another.
"Kazuhira, the Kazegarasu..."
Kurou pauses. He rolls the quill between his fingers, then opens his palm, letting the feather lie there. A father of two sons who survived the project... He gains his strength and his title from their suffering, but... was that not the same as his own mother...? Would two shinobi who have already lost too much lose something more...?
A breath escapes past Kurou's lips, slow and soft.
... the feather is released to fall to the ground.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
"....."
The saya of Bankasoujin, a curved black length sticking crookedly into the ground, seems more relevant now than ever. Black feathers, three in number, lay around it, curiously having arranged themselves to circle around one another in the shadow of that saya, a gift before a headstone.
There is unrest amongst the group, but the sound of it almost seems too far away. Kazuhira, for his part, thrashes and muffles, yelling muffled behind his doubly-gagged mouth in objection with no discernable words, writhing in his traces to get loose and question this blatantly unfair judgment. Utahiko lay there, blissfully unaware of what has just transpired. And coldly dignifed stands the Hogarasu, Tenzen's brow knit in an ice cold stare from one boy to the next.
A pair of weather eyes, one shade of brown different from the other, passes over them dismissively, dark in the subtle, mad way of the Shirogarasu. He doesn't need to see where the feathers land to know what the judgment of fate would be, but it is his duty. First, he looks at them, the captives, then down to the feathers arrayed at the youngest boy's feet. He looks to the side, to Kurou, searching that child's eyes.
For a moment, he searches the boy, his undefeatable mien cracking nigh imperceptibly. He waits to find a moment of pain, of guilt, of doubt. But not to shirk his task. Not to reverse fate.
He reaches for Kurou's shoulder, hand pressing down soothingly on the boy's shoulder. Synchronicity is the fairest thing of all.
"Do not despair," the young man assures his junior. "...every fault lays with me, and I'll take responsibility."
...the blade of Bankasoujin rises, and Kurou's burden is lifted from him.
There is a tilted, adjunct madness to the moment that Shirogarasu turns away from Kurou, his shoulderbag tilting to one side until the three leaves of Ryouhra shows on the haori at his back. So like the three feathers on the ground, feathers the boy now steps over as the saya is pulled with him as he goes, the lacquered length held in a free hand. The tumult is fueled primarily by the ignored struggles of Kazuhira as Shiryuu strides past him and the unconscious Utahiko. It is Tenzen he strides to, the man who stands before him with leashed, subdued pride. The blackblade slides expertly, beneath the gag, for the silver-haired boy to cut the gag off the man.
And the Hogarasu is refined to the end, his long black hair flicking to a side as he tilts his head just so to avoid being knicked by that blade.
".... so this is how it is to end?" Tenzen's voice just barely rises to heat, a bitter thread tightening. The blade of Bankasoujin lays at his shoulder still, the edge turned inwards towards his throat.
"It seems," the shinobi observes, imperious even in the face of his own death, demurring, "that we will pay for Setsuya's crimes a third time."
"Aa," Shiryuu agrees, coldly.
"There can be no forgiveness."
"You know I was the only vote."
Shiryuu's grip tightens on his hilt. No hesitation.
"... I know."
"...then, I leave it to you--"
Kazuhira's struggles only gain urgency in the violence that follows, the spray of blood with the long step Shiryuu takes in taking Tenzen's life first. The proud leader is executed on the spot, dead before he hits the ground. Shiryuu barely has a chance to turn before Kazuhira lifts himself to his knees, using the tightness of his bindings against the wooden edge of his shoe to snap the tape, and pop free. The Kazegarasu is named so for a reason, and despite his injuries, the man vaults easily to his feet, and bolts away from the statue, whistling an alarm furiously. Shiryuu blinks, looking up and away from Tenzen.
The Kazegarasu is fast. He makes it six, seven paces away from them.
His head makes it twelve, rolling to a stop far away.
The impact skidmarks from Shiryuu's shoes bleed off his momentum, as the boy flicks the spare blood from his blade, spinning the weapon at his side to clear it, before drawing it through his fingertips and sheathing it.
It leaves only Utahiko, still blissfully unconscious, even as the blood creeps around his chained figure. Shiryuu turns back, towards Kurou, towards the last member of Setsuya's Yongarasu. Dispassionately, the boy's lips press, as shinobi -- alerted by Kazuhira -- begin to arrive. Some are still very, very battered by Kurou's initial assault.
They see what has happened. But a raised hand stays them.
"I, shihaisha, consigned these men to the shinigami for their crimes against the clan. But, regrettably, the hanzaisha 'Utahiko' still breathes. I will not execute someone who is unconscious. Take him to the Akayaten. Strip him of every resource, every name, every title. Synchronicity has dictated that he will die by the foul ninkou Metsumeitou at dawn."
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
Gold eyes, like a predatory beast's shining in the night, gaze back at Shiryuu's, unfaltering. Once the last feather was released, the time for regrets had passed like a ghost in the night. There is no guilt,
even with all the Kazegarasu's muffled mewling, nor is there doubt, even with the Hogarasu's bitter acceptance.
But there is pain, for since their own judgments all those years ago, it has been ever present in Kurou's body.
He is lucky that he still feels it where so many others no longer can.
The weight on Kurou's shoulder assures him all the same, and then it lifts away with the burden of what must happen next. He does not look away, though Kazuhira does test commitment to such resolve by challenging the eye's ability to follow. Kurou's still do, choosing body over head when the latter seems, for a moment, intent on escaping his field of view.
Kurou wonders if he put up such resistance when it was Kouhei and Shuuhei who had to face death. He does not wonder it long, because he does not intend to allow any satisfaction to corrupt the necessity of the judgments he has made... even in retrospect. It was not about the deaths that day that brought Kurou to his final judgment.
It was their fickle conviction that threatens to divide clan Ryouhara at any given opportunity.
Utahiko remains. Kurou's attention flick past Shiryuu, and the subtlest movement begins, hand ready to grip Soumeiunsatou. But he is one of the shinobi stayed by that raised hand, and slowly eases back to neutral.
"Understood," he says, in his way, as if the decree were as simple as any of Shiryuu's others on this night of bloodshed.
<Pose Tracker> Shiryuu Ryouhara has posed.
The work is good, Shiryuu sees to it.
Tied in chains, the Tsuchigarasu is going nowhere, as the shinobi take him to the pagoda. In the morning, Shiryuu will see to his execution personally. Metsumeitou was an execution ninkou that would ensure the cleanest and most painful death for Utahiko, far from the swift fates met by his co-conspirators.
It was an ignoble way to go for ignoble people, an honorable way to go for the honorable. The pain would tell him which person Utahiko was in the very end. But for now, the young man watches the affair, arms folded, the sheathed katana tucked in the crook of an arm with the volume of his sleeves.
In those gold eyes, there was no hesitation. A loyalty that is beyond question. It was a precious thing, one that Shiryuu would have to be careful not to abuse.
But... by asking him to be 'fate,' was that the correct burden to place upon him? Is it really okay?
None of the question ever makes it to the young man's unapproachable mien, his mouth a thin, flat line as he stands near the bodies, tilting his gaze to one side as other shinobi come to gather them. For their service to the clan, they would still be given a place in their burial grounds, even if only as dishonored criminals. He would have to take the news to Shuuhei and Kouhei personally.
Responsibility is a sacred burden, and he is determined to see it through. But ...
"...Kurou."
Gone is the imperiousness of decree in that single word, the harsh sword of judgment absent in his voice, softened and braced by something a little less than the authority of shihaisha, that smaller mark on his voice trickling in .... a single feeling.
Ah, it is gone fast, like a moth in flame.
"You've done well for the clan," Shiryuu commends him. "Return to Sumaru, while I settle affairs here. I'll return tomorrow night. In five days time, I am going to tour your living arrangement there. Please ensure it is ready for my eye."
<Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
The work /is/ good. Kurou can verify it.
His loyalty would not shake if it wasn't, but it is heartened. Where Shiryuu cannot abuse loyalty, Kurou cannot abuse mercy. This world needs mercy in it... and can ill afford those who would erode it. If he must shoulder 'fate' to ensure it, and to protect this clan's future, then it is a burden Kurou will carry without complaint.
Not that such questions are posed to him, nor does Kurou muse on too many more himself. The only change to his face comes when his name is spoken: the slightest softening in his set eyes, and then threatens to soften quite a bit more.
He almost speaks out, to sense that mark but be unable to identify it...
In the end, the moment is gone before Kurou can act. Quick with a blade, but not with his words.
Confusion remains a moment more. He is not one to question and talk back, understanding there are other shinobi to assist with the task. A pang hits his heart again. Is it obedience instead of loyalty to allow Shiryuu to send him away at such a time...?
... Ah, but. To prepare for a guest. This is a high honor indeed, but one Kurou has a generous amount of time to prepare for.
He gives a single, firm nod.
"Yes, Shirogarasu."
There is almost a sparkle in his eye.
... Tonight was grim and bloody. Five days from now will be... a unique kind of difficult for Shiryuu Ryouhara.