Heartsbane [Morio]

Vaenar's favorite horse was saddled and waiting in the yard. Nagasaki of Iwagakure and Harold Graymane fell in beside him as he rode through the yard. Their steel cap and shirt of mail must have been uncomfortable, but they said no word of complaint. The same being to be Vaenar's handler after his release. Perhaps they waited for a whiff of treachery so that they could cut him down. Especially Harold was known to lust for battle more than he did for women.

As they passed beneath the Hoshimura's keep into the noise of the city, Vaenar's green cloak streaming in the wind from his shoulders, he witnessed eyes everywhere and pushed his warhorse into a trot. But his parole officers followed. 

The Hoshimura frequently looked behind him as they made their way through the crowded square of the city. His younger cousin Morio Hoshimura, formerly Ametsuchi, had taken the same route earlier. Vaenar was uncertain he wasn't going to his execution. Since Yasha Okami took his eye, the shadow of a guillotine haunted Vaenar due to his part in Valen's failed coup. And today, he was fretting like a lash about to lose her maidenhead.

His mind drifted back to a meeting that took place two weeks ago.

"My place is in the village," Vaenar told the Acting Kage, bending the knee.
"Gods save us both then." She said, crossing her arms, "If I am to remove your pretty head, your mother and father will mourn. Besides, such a noble captive will be an ornament to our court. It will serve as a living testament to the mercy and benevolence of our Kage, Ayato Hyuuga.” And ensure the loyalty of the Hoshimura family, Vaenar understood.

“Give me back my Jounin rank then.”
Shina had shrugged to that. “Even Hoshi’s white knight is not that merciful.”

"Morio and I need some gold. To pay for our arms and armor."
"I begin to understand why your father was so desperate to be rid of you both. Very well, sirs. I will instruct our treasurer to give you as much gold as you wish. Within reason."
"Only as a loan. We will pay it back."
"When you learn to pick the correct side in battle, no doubt.” Shina flickered him away with her fingers and went back to a parchment ticking names with a quill. She was marking down men to die. Vaenar had realized.

The Iron district began at the market square beside the Walls. In the shadow of the walls, farmers stood beside their wagons, bellowing out "Fish, fresh fish from the north sea" and "Melons sweet as honey, blood melons here you go here." Two ragged boys no older than Morio were dueling with sticks to the loud encouragement of some and the loud curses of others. An older woman ended the Melee by leaning out of her aperture and dropping a bucket of cold water at the combatants' heads.

Vaenar took a turn off the square where the Iron district began and followed its twisted path, past blacksmiths working at open forges and scavengers selling old blades and razors from their wagons. The more they climbed, the larger the buildings grew. The man they had an appointment with was all the way at the end of the hill, in a cobbled building whose upper stories shadowed over the tapered street.

A pair of warriors made of stone guarded the building's entrance, armored in suits of polished that transformed them into magical beasts instead of a knight. Vaenar left his horse and shouldered his way inside.

The young serving girl took quick note of Vaenar's silver hair and the golden dragon sigil on his black tunic, and the master blacksmith came hurrying out all smiles and pleasantries. "Wine for our Jounin." He said to the slim girl, gesturing Vaenar to a lavish couch. "Former Jounin." Vaenar reminded him sharply. "But I shall make myself comfortable nonetheless. Where is my kin, sir?"

"Pardons shinobi ranks are hard to distinguish even these days. I am Mercurio Stamatis, and please make yourself at ease."
He wore a blue velvet coat with a silver hammer badge pinned on the shoulder. "Young Morio is on the back of the shop. Taking his pick of the armory as we talk. My work is costly, and I make no apologies for that." He said as he filled two ebony goblets with wine. 

"You will not find arms and armor equal to mine anywhere in the shinobi world and beyond. I promise you, visit every Haven forge if you desire and compare for yourself. Any backwater town blacksmith can hammer a shirt of rusted mail, but my work is a piece of art. "

He bobbed his head and eagerly drank a sip from the goblet. Vaenar drank from his own cup and did not bother to interrupt. Mercurio made the Winter Knight's armor; he boasted and japed of how he could armor three men with the steel he spent for a man of that size.  Many high-ranked shinobi had bought their armor from here, those who knew to appreciate excellent steel even Toneri Hyuuga; the Kage's own brother.

wc:866

Spoiler:

This was unexpected. Here he stood looking at armor that aesthetically didn't please him,. but its functionality was definitely not anything to scoff at. As an apprentice blacksmith he could appreciate the work that went into this but as a combatant...it was simply too bulky. The heat of the forge could be felt where he had been, and it honestly quite nice. He didn't mind the feel of it and it reminded him of his training. Of course he didn't know who exactly had set him up with this, but when he heard voices coming from the front that natural curiosity did take over and cause him to come forward. He'd picked up the armor and a sword that struck his fancy, bringing it forward and sitting it on the counter as he turned around," I'll take this then..The craftsmanship is like nothing i've ever seen or can do...yet but this is fine. Mind telling me why i was told to come here and choose out both armor and sword? I am not one to take charity without reason...and i would like a reason," his gaze was sorted on the blacksmith but his words? Intended for the man on the coach. No blacksmith would do something like this...they barely knew each other, but someone with some sort of lead or...maybe something else would.

None the less he would lean on the counter, arms folded to their opposite side and waited for a response. He would owe no one anything without a proper explanation and if this would indeed be a different reason...Morio could look the other way perhaps.

268 WC

A door opened, the blast of hot air coming through as if they were walking inside a volcano. A forge blazed in each corner, and the air stank of smoke and sulfur. Blacksmiths glanced up from their hammers and tongs just long enough to wipe the sweat from their brows while apprentice boys worked the bellows.

In walked the apprentice boy that the Hoshimura of Haven recently adopted.  Vaenar studied the shape of his jaw, the ice blue hair, eyes like beaten gold. “Yes, I see it.” The family traits had been reversed on him, a rare incident but not unheard of, for those carrying the blood of the greatest warrior that ever lived, Alexandros Hoshimura. 

The armor selected by the boy was a red plate with dark batwings on the helm. “Excellent choice.” The master blacksmith said. “No other armorer could get that deep red. I know the secret of putting color in the steel itself. Paint and enamel are the crutches of a journeyman.“ As for the black blade. Mercurio said he had learned to work that kind of steel at the forges of Land of Birds as a boy.

“Lord Vaenar, the dragon, is the banner of Hoshimura, am I correct? I could fashion a helm so real that children will run from you in the street.”

Morio, however, did not seem to share this excitement, as he was not familiar with the armor that suited a knight. Perhaps he should. Vaenar had seen those queer samurai robes, and ninja jackets would never stop a blow from a blade, while an armor would very well keep a man alive.

Mercurio looked horror-struck. “Apprentice boys should not question their Kage. If Lord Ayato wants to gift you with a sword and armor, you thank him for his kind heart. He honors you with this patronage.”

“He has a big heart, our Kage,” Vaenar said with a smile. “Master Stamatis, it’s not ungratefullness that makes my foster brother question this gift but humility.” Morio’s humble origins had left him half a peasant. A big part of what makes someone a hero, if you heard that geezer Yasha say it. High lords have a lot to lose when fighting for justice. A lowborn commoner is more sympathetic to ordinary people.

“Morio fear not.” The golden dragon put his goblet aside. “Ayato Hyuuga offered to pay for our equipment due to our clan coming back to the fold, but we are going to return him every penny.”

WC:414

Morio turned his head to look at MErcurio with a glare that would scare even the boldest of men," I don't THINK I asked you. I will question anything that does not sit right with me rather if its from an elder or the fucking Kage. I don't remember you being my father...Oh right he's dead so keep your tongue Mercurio. I will not thank anyone who is giving me something for nothing," the sword was reached for but he stopped himself...he didn't like being told to accept something, especially from someone who owed him nothing. He didn't know this Ayato, nor did he know why this was even a thing or why he knew who he was verbatim. Either way he was not happy with the answer the so-called blacksmith gave him so his eyes went back to the man on the couch. When Vaenar smiled and gave an answer, the words "Foster brother" struck a cord within him, a visible sign that he didn't either like the words or agreed with them. His full body turned to face the male so that he could give a good, long look at him as he spoke," I'm going to stop you right there. Foster brother? Who exactly are you? I have no family. My mother whored me off to those..merchants and the man who is supposed to be my father died for some stupid reason...So how are you even kin to me? I have no family," of course to him this was true. His father was gone. His mother had left him and in so gave him up. Nothing was as it seemed.

"So YOU mean to tell me I have family, none of which have even bothered to show themselves until now....And to grant me a gift from a man that probably doesn't even know what I look like? And for what? No one gives something for nothing. What is this "gift" supposed to mean mm?," the young Hoshimura crossed his arms and held his firm stance. He wasn't taking this until all of his questions were answered and if he did not like the answer...well he would go from there.

362 wc

Morio looked so angry in his response that for a minute, Vaenar thought he would reach for his new sword and make to stab the master armorer with it. “Mind your filthy tongue,” The blacksmith said. “This is the Hoshimura’s family heir, here to take you with him.” He turned to Vaenar. “A smart boy, but stubborn Sir. ”

“On that much, we agree.” He said. “This boy has hot blood running through his veins, not cold water like our Kage.” Vaenar thought, amusingly the scarred tissue around his missing eye itching as usual.

“Who paid for his apprentice fee here?” Mercurio looked fretful. “You see the boy, such a strong boy and fierce. Those hands of his made for hammers. He had such promise I took him without a fee.”

“The streets of Hoshi are full of hands made for hammers. The day you take an apprentice right out of the Academy without a fee will be the day hell freezes over. Now the truth.”

“A hooded man didn’t see his face,” Mercurio said, all of his earlier pleasantries gone. “He paid in gold, twice the customary sum, and said he was paying once for the boy and once for my silence. “
 
“You know who the boy is?”
“He is my apprentice.”
“Not a question, Master Mercurio. You know who the boy is.”

“Morio is my apprentice.” The land of birds native insisted, rigid and unbending as old iron. “Who he was before he came to me is none of my concern.”

“You have my thanks as well as my patronage. Be a good man and fetch me the armor that should scare children away.” And the blacksmith went, leaving the two foster brothers alone in the room.

“I’ve seen too much injustice in my days,” Vaenar told Morio lightly, giving him a good look of his other, smiling eye. “The loss of your father and your mother’s abandonment is such. Is it so outlandish to think the Hoshimura would try and help an innocent young man that has nowhere else to go?”

Through the narrow windows of the cobbled house, more prominent than all the other buildings in the iron district, the light of the sun spilled across the fine timber floor. Catching his reflection in one of the said window panes, Vaenar realized his mane looked more gold than silver.

“The blood of Alexandros Hoshimura flows through our veins, and so long as I'm around, you will always have a family. Armor yourself in anger, by all means, but wear a suit of mail and plate as well. There is a reason why it would be wise to, especially when you are fighting with sharp metal pieces. Assuming this is the day you become who you are, and begin to wield swords instead of simply forging them."

WC: 471

His right brow began to twitch as he looked at Mercurio, a man acting as if he was his father...a trait he knew the old blacksmith for a little too well. Something within him had been boiling to the surface, but to those paying attention, it could have been a trick of the light...or his eyes, but they began to glow a fierce red as he began to seethe in his own anger. It was a chord that was struck as his hand twitched once and stopped, he was slowly losing the reigns on his own temper, and when he felt it boiling over the surface, a deep breath was taken, and his eyes slowly began to simmer. Why was he angry? The thought of family should have been a blessing but for him? It made him angry. Bitter even. As the two began to talk about him, it felt as if his own anger was talking to him, beckoning him to do something about this injustice. Kill them. Maim them. End their lives. Over and over, this anger continued, but he tried his hardest to keep it in. It was at a point in which Mercurio revealed something that even he didn't even know. Someone had paid the smith to take him as an apprentice...and to keep silent.

Why...Why would he do this? The thought of it disappointed him, to say the least, but as he left, his eyes moved over to Vaenar. " Injustice, you say? What my parents did was an injustice? Then if it is, why have I not received justice for it. You use your silver-coated words...but they mean nothing to me. I've struggled with the fact that I was given up...Given to a family that treats me as their own but really were doing my mother a favor...I can't even remember what she looks like...and now I'm supposed to believe you are swooping in to be family? Where were you when I needed it before?" something about what he said sat within his mind for a moment that caused that voice to be drowned out slowly.

"What do you mean by that? Wield swords instead of making them? Anytime I make something, I feel it as if it's alive..," he trailed off for a moment as if he was going to ask a question, but he shook his head," Enough riddles. Tell me plainly what you want and what you mean. I will determine from there if I want to believe you or not."

421 WC

“It’s most unfortunate that I couldn’t be there for you sooner. But I am now.” The Hoshimura Knight had only one eye, but he was entirely blind to the boy’s feelings, it seemed. Lies wouldn’t make him follow, but perhaps the truth would. 

“As a country boy, I assume all you ever wanted to do was to swing the sword. But make no mistake, this connection you have to forge steel is one of our clan’s hallmarks. My sire used to tell me that if you take a whetstone to a Hoshimura blade, you will need another whetstone. And maybe another hand to keep it.” 

Manfred Hoshimura had said that and many more. A knight in full armor can shrug off swords, spears, and axes. But Hoshimura steel slices through his protections like so much cloth. As advanced as iron is from bronze, so is Hoshimura steel from ordinary steel. Lighter yet more substantial, and nothing holds an edge like it. 

“Unfortunately, the process, like so much of the knowledge, was lost in the clan’s doom. Many claim our ancestors wove magic spells into the molten metal and blasted it with fire from the lungs of a dragon. When you see a Hoshimura blade, smokey and dark as if drinking in the sun and rippling with a thousand folds, you may not scoff so loudly. “

The dragon lord felt the sweet taste of wine in his throat. “Even though the bloodline has dwindled over the ages sadly, to almost being none existent, it has to resurface in a few of us.” The truth was most descendants couldn’t awaken any because they weren’t of entire Hoshimura descent, as they have married to commoners and non-shinobi. 

“My brother, who was considered the finest swordsman of his time and was worth three Ayato Hyuuga’s couldn’t.” The area near Vaenra's right eye was a ruin with nothing but scarred tissue and blue sapphire in place of a missing eyeball. The left side was comely, with sharp cheekbones and one good violet eye beneath a light brow. 

And then his chakra pulsed along the nerves of his face. They bulged up, reaching up from the top of his spinal column and across cheeks, temples, and into his eye. The pupil became distinct, the outline etched into the iris via a flexing vein, giving the Hoshimura an aggressive and hostile appearance with one red and one blue eye.

“I was younger than you, maybe ten, when I first awakened it."

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"The sentiment is appreciated...but just because you are here now doesn't make up for the twelve I have been alone...All I have ever had was a name... Ametsuchi...Kasuga. Come to find out that I have or had a grandad that has disappeared off the face of the earth...An inheritance within the Lands of Lightning. Did you know, dear "brother" that I could very well be the last to have this blood in my veins? It makes things all the better knowing that I am alone in that aspect," the sarcasm dripped from his words like venom from a snake's mouth. Morio felt very... Jaded at the world. He had been left alone, thought to be left alone until now, hearing someone of his kin was within arms reach...but why did he wait until now to reveal himself. What has happened in this world that the one-eyed Hoshimura finally revealed himself? These were the questions he wanted to be answered...he needed to be answered. The rage slowly began to die down as to did the voice, but he didn't take his eyes off of Vaenar.

A small huff escaped his lips as he took his hand off of the blade and looked over to it slightly," The thing I've wanted to do the most was getting stronger so that I could find the truth of my life for myself...The sword comes at an easier tale to me than others, but I also desire the accomplishment of making that which I will solely place my life in the hands of...Not a person. Not a figure...my blade and my blade only. These swords do not suit me...This armor will not protect me for long...It's far too bulky and archaic, and I can feel it with every touch that passes along it. This is wasted on me..but I will accept it for now. Only because I do not intend to besmirch the hospitality of Mercurio...for an old fool he has done more for me than the one that dares call himself my "father" and probably the only person, while senile, I will say has some form of my trust." Even if he has lied to me so far...

His hand removed from the sword as he looked at Vaenar, almost waiting for an answer of some sort. At the display of his eyes, though, Morio crossed his arms and remembered that feeling...but it was still faint," Cool. A whole two years younger than me...is that what I felt earlier?"


411 wc

Alexander Hoshimura was a great king who was victorious in ninety-nine of his one hundred battles. When seven shinobi villages banded against Alexandros, he lost his final battle and died in the fighting. 

The clan elders knew that those who thought themselves to be the originating Hoshimura had become extinct from the male line. A Konoha shinobi had married the last female Hoshimura. His sons took all the hallmark features of the clan, and were passed down to young Morio, the last of that line, albeit reversed.

 “Kasuga, your father died bravely in battle, a death worthy of a Hoshimura, descended from so many great warriors. Or so our clan’s creed says. Perhaps they should consider our grief if they never returned.” 

Vaenar had his demons. Treason was only a word. When two men fight for a chair, only one man may sit. Great shinobi and commoners alike must choose. The victors are hailed as loyal men, while the defeated will be forever known as rebels and traitors.

“They brought my brother’s shield home after he had fallen, and my father hung it in our hall and sometimes looks at it with pride. But if you were to ask him, he’d sooner have his son than a shattered shield.”

Vaenar said. He figured Mercurio was a good man, from what he saw of him so far. So loyal in fact that Vaenar decided he liked the master armorer from the Land of Birds. And Morio had come to see him as a second father. Perhaps circumstances of one’s birth are irrelevant, and it is up to how much we spend with those around us that matters more. 

“There are disadvantages to armor-like drowning, and chain mail was heavier than the plate itself. But warriors wear armor because it protected them.” Vaenar reminded young Morio, who had a greater preference, it seemed, for those queer samurai robes. They looked comfortable, and that was the only good thing Vaenar could say about them.

Soon after, Mercurio appeared with Vaenar’s armor, an ornate solid black, decorated with gold. And a sword. The Hoshimura stood, three long strides, and he reached the counter, picking up the blade. Taking a few steps back from the duo, and with a flick of his wrist, the blade whistled as it cut through the hot air of the armory.

“There is a nostalgic feeling.” The Hoshimura said, and the armorer looked worried.
“Careful with that, sir.”
“Fear not Mercurio, I’m no stranger to fine steel,” Vaenar said. The sword and the armor looked close to the one he lost during the Valley. His brother Haegon and his elite warriors were unstoppable, cutting the shinobi vanguard to pieces and scattering the remains to the rear. As this happened, a famous duel occurred, with Ayato and Haegon coming across each other. The fight went for many minutes before Haegon managed to injure the current Kage, leaving him blind and bleeding severely. 

Rather than marching on, breaking the loyalist line, impressed by the Hyuuga’s courage, Haegon made to save his fallen foe so others wouldn’t run over him in the ongoing struggle. However, that act of chivalry gave Shina Uzumaki enough time to position herself on a nearby ridge and rain down her adamantine sealing chains on Vaenar’s brother, piercing through Haegon’s armor cutting him to pieces.

Vaenar led a mad charge against her, but Yasha Okami appeared behind him and stabbed him in the eye. Suppose Haegon had walked over Ayato and Harold Graymane had not slain the two kings guard when he caught them looting the palace. If Hikari Namikaze had no sealed off the archives’ weapons, Kharjo Yamaguchi had proven true instead of treacherous. So many ifs, anyone had come out; differently, it would have turned the other way. 

It didn’t matter now, Vaenar supposed. All the men and women who had marched beside him to name his brother Haegon the true leader of Hoshigakure and King of Haven had melted away like morning mists. Perhaps he dreamed them, or more likely, Shina had put the fear in them.

He turned around to Morio, bare steel in his hand.
“What you felt earlier was the Kenseingan. The only thing more important than heritage and the quality of the blade is the man who yields it.”

WC: 705

Most of what Vaenar had said to Morio had fallen on deaf ears as his mind went elsewhere. He didn't care about the past...the fallen that had come before him. Those that had lost here in Hoshi. No. He cared much for a side of his bloodline that Vaenar failed to mention. The Ametsuchi. That is where his father had hailed...and from there, he would without a doubt find some of the answers the Hoshimura in front of him would give. That feeling...that voice that came with his anger was subsided, but he still felt its small presence within him. For now, he would keep it to himself until he had found out just what it was. The sound of Mercurio coming back caused the young male to snap out of his deep thought and turn to the blacksmith. He wouldn't lock eyes with him, but he would let the older male know that they had much to discuss after this," We need to have a word after...Vaenar is done here. There are many things I will be asking you...and I do expect complete answers. No more of this hiding things from me. No more lies. I want the truth from you Mercurio," the words didn't mean to come off as threatening or demanding, but the Blacksmith did have a lot of explaining to do.

Moving his eyes back over to Vaenar, he would give it a moment before speaking to him," I don't really...care for the history of Hoshi or their part to play in its troubles. Here's why. I have the last name of Hoshimura due to my mother...but I am also an Ametsuchi...Don't you think I should know that as well? All of this is...interesting, but from a standpoint that should be known after I have all of the information," now he also had a name for the burning sensation he felt in his eyes. The Kenseigan...There he stopped for a moment as he tried to imitate that feeling once more...that rage...no that is burning. It was as if he was a burning forge, and he was finally being lit. In his silence, he could feel his eyes burning before the feeling left, and he looked into the side of a sword. There it was...the glowing though faint was there. A small smile escaped onto his face as he chuckled to himself and nodded," This might take some getting used to, but this...feels right," he was moreso talking to himself but returned his now faintly glowing eyes to Vaenar," Knowledge goes a long way...I suppose I can give you the time of day...But make no mistake. If I feel as if our interests do not align or you betray or lie to me...I will have nothing to do with you. Can you agree to these terms...," he paused for a moment. He was a word shy of calling this man family, but would he genuinely feel as such? No. For now, he would need to wait and see what the future would bring before he dared to call someone family again.

514 wc