Archive of Our Own

Zettou Seinan, mid Heian period (11th Century Japan)
They came from the stars.

The villagers called them Ametsuchi no Samurai, which they later learned meant ‘Warrior of Heaven and Earth’ in the language of the island. They gave them a home in a building all their own, and freely gave them food and supplies without being asked. Everyone bowed low when they approached, speaking in hushed, reverent tones.

None of them knew quite how to handle their new admirers in the beginning. They were never warriors - they were scientists. They were certainly not heroes; they happened to have the knowledge and experience to tap into a power source readily available on the sheltered planet they had landed on. They had simply arrived at the perfect time and place to protect innocent people from a rampaging monster. After all, people of science or not, they were not heartless.

In this way, Elias was unofficially designated their leader. Of all of them, he had a natural gift at charming people and reassuring them. Even during their time at the Eltarian Science Collegiate, Elias had been consistently surrounded by classmates and teachers alike. He was equally pleasant with the natives of the strange planet they had found themselves on, putting them at ease with his cheerful smiles and strange quirks that drove his colleagues to distraction. It soon became him that the people sought out when they needed help, or when something was to be delivered to their protectors. Being the sort of person he was, he accepted each gift with a warm, pleased smile, showering them in praise and gratitude to make even the most wary of villagers blush.

Amir became his second both on and off the field, being the most mild-mannered of them all, and far easier at dealing with Elias’ wild moods. Amir was patient when Reyes and Venkat lost their tempers, firm when Rengan was too kind. He was the most technically adept of them as well; it was his skill that created the morphers they came to use to fight the monsters that escaped from the shadows to attack the village.

Reyes was third, only due to her medical knowledge and expertise combined with a tendency to threaten people into compliance when they disregarded her suggestions. She was fierce, short tempered, and hated compromise, but her passion for learning made her an invaluable asset in their battle with the shadow creatures. It was she who documented all they learned, studying the creatures’ behaviors and habits to find their weaknesses and suss out the leaders.

Venkat was their natural science expert, and the one who set out to understand this new world they’d found. He was fascinated by the flora and fauna, documenting all his finds in meticulous detail. It had been his idea to tie their morphers into the five elements of the local culture, thereby powering them through the planet itself and conserving their own energy. His stern focus rarely strayed beyond his own goals however, and while never directly stated, the others were well aware he thought of the villages as more nuisance than anything.

Much like Elias, Rengan was another oddity in the group, as her expertise was in history and the supernatural, but came from hands-on experience. She took her time to study the island through long hikes, learning the territory and habitat. Her own studies of the creatures were part careful spywork, part convenient circumstance and timing, as she was more interested in the culture and history of the island itself than their apparent enemies. She was the first to learn the language of the locals, though Elias was the first to speak it.

They were warriors of consequence, not choice: Venkat had once darkly remarked that perhaps their penance for the experiments that had lead to their ejection from the collegiate was to save this world. None of them had chosen to fight. They didn’t love the world or its people. They had simply been there, and that was enough.

When the first body appeared, they had not the slightest idea what to make of it.

Reyes examined it with clinical detachment. “Earthian male, early to mid-twenties. No visible signs of damage.”

"Cause of death?” Venkat asked shortly as he powered down in a sparkle of green light, folding his arms over his chest.

“Unknown. May be internal injuries.” She huffed as she powered down as well, waving the pink lights from her eyes irritably. She’d never been happy about the Color she’d bonded with. “What I would give for a basic scanner. Cursed primitive planet.”

“Language,” Amir remarked mildly.

She gave him a withering look.

“Did the creature eat him?” Rengan wondered aloud. She nudged Elias, the only one of them still wearing his armor. “Elias. Conservation of energy, remember?”

He made a noise of acknowledgment, powering down in a burst of red. “The lights were pretty,” he remarked absently by way of explanation. He didn’t seem to notice Reyes and Venkat rolling their eyes at each other. Or didn’t care, which was equally likely with Elias. “Maybe,” he said slowly, staring down at the body, “He *was* the creature.”

The others exchanged skeptical glances. “Maybe,” Amir allowed. Even for Elias it was a wild theory. “We will likely never know.”

Four bodies later, they were forced to admit that they had a problem. It was not that Elias was crying.

“She was so tiny,” he sobbed into Rengan’s shoulder as she ran her fingers through his curls. “And broken.”

“The symptoms are the same, which speaks of an epidemic, but this is not a disease I recognize,” Reyes muttered, pacing in agitation. “Autopsy appears to show nothing unusual, but what do I know about human anatomy?”

“You did your best,” Amir murmured, playing with the contraption he’d been building for weeks now. No one was quite sure what it was, but they’d caught the character for ‘water’ on it when he wasn’t busy playing with the wiring.

“My best would have solved the problem,” she snapped.

No one took her seriously; they all knew the amount of pressure Reyes placed on herself when she was worried about something.

“What could those creatures be doing that links them to the bodies?” Venkat wondered aloud.

“They *are* the creatures.”

Elias sniffled as he looked up with red eyes. “Do you not see? They are Nighlok – one who has become as a demon. The bodies we find are the Nighlok after we have defeated them.”

Everyone froze.

Amir opened his mouth to say something, stopped, tried again, and stopped again. His fingers tightened on the object in his hands. He never noticed when it gave a feeble twitch in response.

Venkat immediately shook his head. “Impossible. We would have – we would have known. The Power prevents us from attacking civilians.”

“The Power is not an exact science,” Reyes murmured, looking stunned. “Not the science we know.”

Rengan was still shaking her head. “But even with demonic possession, it does not work that way. It would not … it cannot physically change the natural form of the body!”

“They are Nighlok,” Elias said again, looking at them all one by one as he repeated the ancient Eltarian word. “Humans are one of the most adaptable species in the universe. Nighlok are the embodiment of negative emotion. Who is to say the Nighlok are not humans who have done their best to adapt and survive in a horrible situation? That is the nature of evolution, is it not?”

There was a long silence.

“Excuse me,” Rengan said at last, turning away.

They could hear retching in the bushes moments later.

Venkat stormed into the pagoda the natives had provided them and dropped an impressive stack of parchment on the main table. “It is the planet,” he said without preamble. “The natural energy resources within this planet are not only powering our morphers – they power everything. The humans we found? Mutants. Their bodies are evolving in an unconscious attempt to adjust to the energy they absorb just by existing.”

Rengan stared at him in horror. “That is … *pure* energy. This planet has some of the highest concentration of Morphin Grid energy on record.”

He nodded grimly. "Some of them are physically unable to absorb it – which turns them into Nighlok when they overload. Elias is – “ He stopped, jaw clenching as he ground out begrudgingly – “Elias is right. These are humans who are suffering, and the culmination of their suffering is to become Nighlok.”

“Then … the creatures we have defeated … “ she said slowly.

He nodded. “Were all, at one point, human.”

Each of them dealt with the revelation in their own way.

Amir poured himself into his technical creations, which were starting to take shape and move under their own power. The one he called ‘Dragon’ often perched on his shoulder as he worked on his newest, watching the red and yellow creations play together with tiny robotic squeals and chirps. Within a matter of days, he had gone from two of the little creatures to half a dozen.

Rengan was rarely around – or rather she was around, but not for long. She always seemed to be heading out for a jog or a hike, or exploring some part of the island they yet to see. She never left for more than a night or two, but shortly after she returned, she was off again.

Venkat and Reyes threw themselves into their research. Like Rengan, he was rarely seen inside anymore, always out collecting soil and plant samples. The only time he was indoors was spent running tests or conferring with Reyes over their results. She had set herself up as the island’s resident ‘healer’ under the guise of collecting data on the humans. If there was a feverish, driven note to her ministrations, no one dared to mention it.

Elias spent his days bonding with the humans. His activities varied: some days he could be found playing games with the children, the next he would be sitting quietly and talking with the village elders. A week working the fields with the farmers, then suddenly folding laundry and carrying baskets for the women. But he was known for his short attention span and eccentricity, so no one questioned his methods.

On the other hand, they were a little surprised when he brought home a woman.

“This is Shiba Hoshi,” he announced, gesturing to the tiny Earthian in brilliant red silk robes standing beside him. He smiled broadly. “My new wife. She will be living with us from now on.”

“Your what?” Reyes nearly shrieked.

“Wife,” he repeated. He blinked at her. “I invited you all to the wedding yesterday, but everyone was busy.”

“You asked us to do something fun with you, you never said you were getting married!”

“That *is* something fun!”

“If I am not mistaken, Shiba-san the daughter of the local Shogun,” Venkat said suspiciously, eying the quiet woman. She met his gaze briefly and glanced away.

Elias nodded cheerfully, giving her an affectionate smile. She blushed, looking down demurely, but they could see the corners of her mouth turn up in response. “Her father gave us his blessing before the ceremony.”

“Elias,” Amir spoke up quietly, “Have you thought this through?”

Elias paused, and there was a long moment of silence. He took a slow, deep breath. When he looked up, his eyes were solemn and serious, the way he so rarely was, and he made a point of speaking in Common, rather than the broken attempt at the island’s language he usually used. “We will never go back to the collegiate.”

Reyes flinched at his flat tone, and even Venkat looked pained. “That is – “

“We still cannot unlock the morphers. We cannot pass on our knowledge to just anyone – it is far too dangerous. We cannot give away Amir’s Origami to the Earthians and trust that they will be able to use them, or that they will never try to take them apart to learn from the technology he built. No matter how much research we have done or the things we have built or what we left behind, the past is over. These are our lives now.” He took a moment to look each of them in the eyes one by one. “These are our people we are fighting for. *We* have to save them, because we are all they have.”

“Elias … If we cannot unlock the morphers as they are now … “ Rengan looked troubled. “We would send our own children to war.”

He shook his head. “We will find an answer before then. We have to.”

She stared up at the wide blue sky above through the shards that remained of her helmet’s faceplate. Breathing was excruciating, and she could taste blood. She knew she would be unable to stand again.

At least the village is safe for now.

She laughed softly to herself at that. Who would have supposed that she would come to love this little planet so much? That she, the one who had protested the most over fighting over a world that was not theirs, that their stay here was meant to be temporary, only until they could prove themselves and be reinstated with the Eltarian Science Collegiate, would be the last to fall for them. That she would regret the mission she had never wanted be left undone.

“Okaa-san!”

A face filled her vision, and she smiled up at her son. An unexpected surprise; Elias had doted on Hoshi-san while no one noticed for months before their marriage, and Amir, Venkat, and Rengan had all eventually accepted one of the devoted suitors offered to them by the village, but she had remained focused on her work first and foremost. After all, while the islanders had accepted the five foreigners as their protectors, she had never quite met their expectations of what a woman should be.

But there had been something about Shiraishi Hiroto that wore her down eventually.

She tried to take a breath. “The Nighlok … is gone,” she forced out.

She could already hear the tears in his voice more than she could see them. “Stay quiet, Okaa-san, I will - “

“Haruto-kun - “

“Someone will get the doctor - “

“Everything’s going to be - “

“Haruto. Stop.”

She tried to pull her thoughts together as he clutched at her hand, sobbing quietly. “Take … my Shodo Pen. It belongs to you now, with Kame-chan and … Ika-chan. Take care of them.”

There were other things to be said. That the morphers would need to be broken from the bloodline lock somehow - Amir had never managed to accomplish it, and for all she had tried, her own grasp of their workings was not as strong as his had been. That the Origami could not be trusted to anyone else. That the seal Elias had created to bind the leader of the Nighlok must be monitored, for he had never explained his plan to any of them in advance to allow them to prepare for it.

All things that had been explained as her son grew, watching with wide eyes as his mother took up her Pen to fight as the last of the Ametsuchi no Samurai.

She wondered if she would see the others again. There were stories, about the Morphin Grid … Just stories, she had always thought, but after everything she had seen and done in her life, maybe … maybe.

“Tell them … that Elias … was brave.” His armor vanishing as he collapsed to the ground, while the portal he had created sealed the leader of the Nighlok away. By the time they all had reached him, he was already too far gone to say goodbye. “That Amir was … the smartest of us all.” Presenting the Origami, teaching them all how to use the Shodo they’d been trying to master as a technique to help fight the Nighlok when they reached their second life. “That Rengan … was kind, and sweet.” She never lost her temper at any of them, not even Elias at his most flighty, only marching away with her nostrils flared as she went to climb another mountain until she cooled down. She laughed a little, and it hurt. “Tell them … Venkat had … the best … sense of … humor.” He was always so serious and reserved, no matter how hard Elias tried to make him smile.

“I will, Okaa-san,” he choked out. “I promise.”

It was not supposed to end this way, she thought, but it was already becoming hard to speak. We never … our work is not done. We still have to …

“Save them,” she whispered, and her eyes slid closed.

“Okaa-san!”

Zettou Seinan, late Heian period (11th Century Japan)
“I must speak with all of you. Immediately.”

There had not been a conscious decision to meet in the building that had once been the home of their parents, and later their childhood meeting place. It was only as he approached the building himself that Shiraishi Haruto even realized he had never given a location for them to meet. Yet even now, he was aware that there was no other place they *would* have met. For all that they had all grown apart as they grew older, he had never once doubted that his request would be answered.

As children, they had played together daily, drawn together by the bond their parents had shared. When Kyoko grieved at the site of the final battle on the anniversary of her father’s sacrifice, the other four had grieved with her. For years, they had joined Megumi as she wandered the trails her mother had created through the countryside. They had supported Aina in her stubborn determination to tend the flowers her father had planted around her mother’s home, even as she struggled with caring for the fragile plants. Each of them had, without question, lent their Origami over and over again to Isamu for study each time he asked, no matter how many times he tried to understand his father’s creations. And when other children in the village had taunted Haruto for his strangely-colored eyes, they had all been scolded by their parents when they returned home with bruises and torn clothing.

He spoke to them in passing, and had always been very aware of where each was each day. Yet as they had all grown, there had been no more childhood adventures to share. With the passing of his mother as the last of the Ametsuchi no Samurai so many years ago, they no longer felt the need to come together to grieve.

And yet, there was still one last secret they all shared …

They looked up as he entered the main room, only to flinch back as he dropped a pile of battered books onto the table with a thunk, sending up a cloud of dust.

Kyoko coughed delicately into her sleeve, waving the dust away with her fan. “What is this about, Haruto-kun?”

“I discovered my mother’s journals hidden in her things today. They are not written in Japanese,” he continued, flipping through one in particular. “This is a language I do not know. There are numbers, some kanji, and most importantly, “ He stopped, turning the book so the others could see the great beast drawn in careful detail. “Illustrations.”

“Of Nighlok,” Aina said flatly.

“Of human anatomy in relation to Nighlok anatomy.”

All of them flinched, showing various signs of disgust.

He could relate; he had initially been uncertain of his decision to share what he had found. Even now, the thought of the things his mother’s notes hinted she had done to receive this information made his skin crawl. Her information was far too detailed for comfort.

“Her final words were ‘Save them’. I suspect she believed the Nighlok to be human.”

"Impossible,” Aina said immediately.

He hesitated. “She kept … evidence.”

Isamu made a face. “What has that to do with us? The Nighlok are gone now.”

“We know that Shiba-dono sealed off the leader and his closest followers from this world,” Haruto corrected, nodding to Kyoko in deference. “We know as well that our parents spent several years after his passing hunting ‘rogue’ Nighlok.”

“Your point?” Aina snapped impatiently.

He steeled himself. “The Rogue Nighlok are humans who have made the change.”

He stayed silent as they argued in protest. When Aina raged and shouted, insisting that Nighlok were demons, no humanity in them. When Megumi argued that any similarity was only due to possession. When Isamu insisted that they had all been sealed away, that his mother had merely been paranoid, full of ‘strange ideas’.

It was Kyoko he looked to. While it had never truly been stated, everyone knew that her father had been the one to lead the others in the war. And while they were at peace now, and had been long enough for the five of them to grow up as childhood friends, there was a silent understanding among them that should the worst ever happen, she would be the one to lead them, as her father had led their parents before them.

She waited for the others to quiet down before at last lifting her head to meet his eyes. “Do you truly believe the Nighlok have not been defeated?”

He nodded once.

“What would you have us do?”

“We need more information,” he said immediately. “If my mother was correct, we need to understand what is causing this change, so that we may prevent it from happening at all.”

“Or prove that she was mistaken,” Isamu remarked before tilting his head in apology. “No offense intended.”

He ignored the insult, focusing on Kyoko alone. It was her that he needed to convince more than any of the others. “I would ask for your permission to leave the island, to search for more evidence for my mother’s theories. If I find her to be correct, I would seek a solution to save those that would become Nighlok from their fate.”

Kyoko was silent for a long moment.

“I would go with him, with your permission,” Isamu said abruptly, as they all looked at him in surprise. He met Haruto’s startled stare. “I do not believe your theories, but I would travel with you, to offer a more logical point of view.” He paused, glancing away as he muttered “It is what my father would have done for your mother.”

Haruto nodded slowly. He and Isamu had never been the closest of friends, but even so … “I would be glad to travel with you.”

“I would go as well,” Megumi piped up, flashing them all a shy smile. “I do not know if I agree with your theory, or against it. I would like to decide for myself what I believe.”

Aina scoffed, but said nothing, eyeing Kyoko instead.

“I cannot leave the seal unattended,” Kyoko said at last, her voice soft. “The Nighlok may have vanished from this world, but I will not allow even a chance of their escape.” She looked up. “You have my permission for this journey, as well as the full support of the Shiba Clan. Whatever you require shall be provided to you.”

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat as he bowed, touched at the offer. “Thank you, Shiba-dono.”

She nodded once as she stood, silently dismissing them all as she walked away.

It was days later before he saw her again.

She appeared beside him silently as he observed the loading of the cart they were to be loaned. “You are too kind, Shiba-dono,” he murmured. “This is far more than we will ever need.”

They watched the cart for a moment.

"I have always wondered, why my father chose to seal away the Nighlok, rather than destroy them.”

He stiffened slightly.

“If your theory is correct, then … I believe this is what he would have wanted.” She blinked once. “I owe him the opportunity to try.”

“Kyoko-chan - “ he started, forgetting himself for a moment.

A delicate hand reached out to squeeze his wrist. “I hope that you are right, Haruto-kun, even as I hope that you are wrong.”

He did not allow himself to watch her walk away from him this time. He could not bear the thought that it may very well be the last time he saw her.

Zettou Seinan, late Kamakura period (13th Century Japan)
“My thanks for your swift arrival to my message,” Shiba Kaoru informed the four descendants of the Samurai Warriors as they knelt before her. “I regret the need to pull you from the mission of your grandparents, but I assure you it was most unfortunately necessary.”

“ … Is it true, Shiba-dono?” Tamashi Kotoha spoke up hesitantly, looking anxious. “Have the Nighlok escaped the seal on their world?”

Kaoru gave a sharp nod. “I have defeated three Nighlok myself less than a fortnight past.”

Ikenami Ryunosuke stiffened slightly. “You … defeated them?”

She gave him an unimpressed stare. “I respect the theories of your grandparents,” she informed him in a tone that implied the opposite. “That does not mean I will put civilian lives at stake for the sake of a possibility.”

“A possib - “ Ryunosuke sputtered.

“We have evidence, Shiba-dono,” Kotoha protested. “The things we have found, that Okaa-san and Haruto-ji-san and Isamu-ji-san learned - “

“May be valuable to the generations that follow us,” Kaoru cut in. “Such notions do not have a place in a time of war.”

“War?” Shiraishi Mako repeated in surprise. “Surely, Shiba-dono - “

"Twelve Nighlok in half as many months. Forty-three human lives lost - nearly four times the amount of Nighlok encountered,” she informed her flatly, and the three new arrivals tried not to flinch. “Yes, Shiraishi-san. I consider that a war.”

She turned to stare out the window at the village. Several children could be seen playing outside the pagoda, and her eyes lingered on the oldest of them. “Shiraishi-san. There is a man in the village I would introduce you to. He is young, but kind, and he makes a good trade. You should consider allowing him to court you.”

Mako stiffened.

The boy outside looked up, and Kaoru glanced away, giving Mako a cool stare. “We cannot allow the powers of Heaven to be lost.”

She was gone before any of them could find the words to reply.

“Oi. Do not misunderstand,” Mori Chiaki said abruptly, as Mako and Ryunosuke seethed and Kotoha looked to be near tears. It was the first he’d spoken to any of them since they had arrived. “Kaoru-san’s son was one of the first victims.”

They stared at him in shock.

“But Mori-san … I *met* Takeru-kun when I arrived,” Kotoha protested.

Chiaki shrugged as he stood, grabbing his spear from beside the door and slinging it across his shoulders. “When were you told she had only one son?”

Zettou Seinan, early Muromachi period (13th Century Japan)
“It is what your mother would have wished” they assure him. “We must ensure the financial stability of the village.”

My mother would have given all she owned to fund the mission of the Wandering Families, Shiba Takeru thought to himself as he stared at the scroll before him, filled with numbers detailing the wealth of the Shiba clan. While there were places he understood, his attendants distracted him from reading over the others in detail, rushing over each other in their haste to explain to him how the new business plan would expand the wealth of the clan, and by extent the people living in the village under the protection of the Samurai Clans. I will do no less, he promised himself silently.

“Shiba-dono was right to seal the Great Bull. Such creations are uncontrollable.”

“The Origami are much safer to use. Smaller, easier to control.”

“Better to use the powers we know, I say.”

Ryunosuke-san will save Ushi, Takeru told himself as he laid flowers at the pillar that kept the Ushi Origami locked away, as his mother had done every day since the day she had been forced to seal him inside the mountain. He only needs time to study the first Origami more, to see what makes them different from the ones we tried to make.

“The Ametsuchi no Samurai … they descend from the foreigners who fought the Nighlok, ne? How are we to know it was not the strangers who brought the Nighlok with them?”

“Binding their weapons to their own children … awfully shady of them.”

“Why not give their power to warriors from the village? Why do they keep it for themselves?”

Takeru continued past the gossiping elders, head held high as his fist tightened on the Shodo Pen his mother had pressed into his hands with her last breath. The Pen that should have belonged to his older brother Takashi, had he survived the fourth attack. Had Takashi not pleaded for his best friend to remember him, believing as Okaa-san had, that a Nighlok could be saved.

The burden that should never have been his to bear.

“It is what best for the village, Shiba-dono. We must keep the villagers protected.”

“It is necessary for the preservation of the clans.”

“The Ametsuchi no Samurai must not be lost.”

This is only a precaution, Takeru reminded himself as he stared down at the scroll his attendants had prepared. Ryunosuke-san and Mako-san and Kotoha-chan’s sister will learn how to prevent the Nighlok transformations from happening. Then we will have no longer have a need for the Ametsuchi no Samurai.

He tried not to think of the bright-eyed fisherman from the village with a laughing smile as he signed the scroll decreeing the bloodlines of the Five Clans be continued at all costs.

Japan - Juushin Way Academy, mid Azuchi Momoyama period (15th Century)
“Are we sure about this?”

Ikenami Nanami and Tamashi Kouta turned to look at Shiraishi Yousuke with matching incredulous stares. “’Sure about this’?” Kouta echoed.

“A little late for that, I think.” Nanami agreed, frowning at him. “Our first students will arrive in a few hours.”

“Cold feet?” Kouta suggested, reaching for his Shodo Pen with a mischievous grin at the old joke.

“Not that,” Yousuke said hastily, backing away before Kouta could set him on fire again. “I just … Are we really the best people to be doing this?”

Nanami gave him an odd look. “What does that mean?”

Yousuke looked out over the land they’d chosen again. It was far from the island where the leaders of the Nighlok dwelt, keeping the students safe from their influence. There were no villages for miles, to insure that there would be no civilian casualties should the worst happen. The lone building was strong, prepared for even the worst of attacks from within; they’d tested it again and again to be sure. Their equipment was the finest to be found, courtesy of Shiba Katsu’s support and the Shiba Clan’s generous donations. Their students had all been hand-picked as potential candidates to become Nighlok one day, and even Mori Daiki had made a special journey across the ocean to confirm the ones they’d chosen.

All of the work their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents had done to understand the cause of the Nighlok transformations pointed to a need for discipline and a controlled environment. That with time, a potential Nighlok could learn to contain the destructive power they possessed within themselves. That with training, they may never trigger the transformation at all. If their theory was correct, hundreds of lives could be saved.

He believed in their cause with all his heart.

“Are we qualified to be teachers?” he asked finally, voicing the thought that had been bothering him for weeks.

He expected to be reassured, or even dismissed. Instead, both of his companions fell silent, looking thoughtful.

“Probably not,” Kouta said at last. He glanced at the two of them. “But we care the most to teach them, ne?”

Nanami nodded, reaching out to pat Yousuke’s wrist. “None of us are certain, Yousuke-kun. But Kouta-kun is right, too - we care too much for these children not to try.”

Yousuke swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, reaching out to squeeze her wrist in return and pat Kouta’s shoulder. “ … Yes.”

“But if we do fail, remember that it was Nami-nami’s idea,” Kouta added helpfully.

Nanami glared at him. “Stop calling me that, Kouta-baka.”

“Nami-nami’s right,” Yousuke found himself agreeing with a nod, the corner of his mouth lifting. “It was your idea, Kouta-kun.”

"Stop calling me that!”

Japan - Juushin Way Academy, late Azuchi Momoyama period (15th Century)
“Why do they train separately? Not good enough for the rest of us?”

“Conceited sons of - “

“Ignore them,” Ikenami Suzu murmured to her siblings as the ninja students passed by with suspicious stares. “We know why we train alone. We have our own war to fight. They have theirs.”

“I could make them my war,” Shun muttered darkly, glaring back as he gripped his bokken.

He ducked instinctively as Suzu swiped at him. “Hush! Now back to your stances; I see you bending that knee again!”

Japan - Juushin Way Academy, early Edo period (16th Century)

“Shiba Minoru, Sixth Head of the House of Shiba, formally requests the immediate return of the eldest members of the Ikenami, Shiraishi, and Tamashi Clans to Panorama Island.”

Tamashi Kouhaku looked up at the others with worried eyes, wordlessly turning the letter for them all to see.

There was a post script at the end of the letter, written by a childish hand in place of the elegant script of the summons.

Please. Hurry.

Japan - Juushin Way Academy, mid Edo period (16th Century)
“Stay away from me!” the child shrieked, backing into a corner as fur slowly began to grow across her arms, her face contorting into something far from human. “Stay away!”

Japan - Juushin Way Academy, mid Edo period (17th Century)
“It does not work.”

Tamashi Riku kept her chin lifted as Shiraishi Izumi and Ikenami Akira and Ren stared at her. She was not wrong, she reminded herself. This had to be said.

“But … the training - “ Ren started.

“It works, Riku-chan,” Akira insisted. “We have dozens of students who have proven themselves more than ready to leave the school, who have joined the Clans in service to the Shiba Family, who have found work, who … who have perfectly normal lives!”

“It works for some,” she corrected him. “For some of the students, it does. For others, they still struggle with the teachings. They cannot harness their energy as a purely elemental force. They need something tangible, something they can see and feel.”

“A person can feel water,” Akira argued.

She shook her head, feeling frustrated. “It is not the Water students who struggle, do you not see?”

“Everyone struggles at first, but - “

“You cannot classify a person in simple categories, Akira-kun! It does not work!”

“It *is* - “

“You cannot claim a teaching style is successful if it does not work for all its students! That is irresponsible, and demeans everything we have set out to do here!”

Ren touched her brother’s arm, and he fell silent. “What can we do, Riku-chan?” she asked softly. “We cannot give up on them. I *will* not.”

Riku swallowed, summoning her courage. “Neither will I. Which is why I am leaving the school.”

There was a stunned silence.

“You - “

“No! Riku-chan - “

“I may not agree with you, but that does not mean I wish you gone.” Akira snapped, looking sullen.

Somehow that made her smile. “I know."

She drew a slow breath. “I have been developing a new training style. It is not complete - there is still much that needs to be tested. But … I think it could work. I think this may be what they need.”

“And your students here?” Akira asked shortly, clearly unhappy.

“The older students can take over my lessons. They only need know the style to teach it - not why we do.”

“We could certainly find the room for you to train them here - “ Ren offered.

“No,” she interrupted gently, leaning forward to take the other woman’s hands in hers.

Ren blinked once, hard. “Why?”

She took a breath. “Because I do not know if this new method will work. And if I am wrong, and even one were to lose control … “

She could hear Izumi inhale sharply behind her at the implication.

“I’ve already spoken to Shiba-dono about it,” she added before they could ask.

“And?” Akira grumbled.

“The Shiba Clan has dismissed my request.” She swallowed back the sudden knot in her throat. “Hotaru-san did not.”

“Are you sure?” Izumi asked after a moment, looking troubled.

She smiled wryly. “Not in the least. But I have to try.”

Ren looked worried. “Then I will go with you.”

Her smile turned sad as she shook her head. “No.”

“You cannot mean to do this alone, Riku-chan,” she protested, her eyes beginning to well with tears. “What if … what if … ?”

She gave Ren’s hands another gentle squeeze. “Most of the students who struggle are Earth Style. I owe this to them, to try.”

Ren closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“And if something does happen?” Izumi asked quietly. “How are we to know?”

She huffed, looking back to give him a fond smile. “I decided to leave the school, Izumi-kun, not the Five Clans. You will hear from me, and I hope I from you.”

“Dozens of letters?” Ren pressed, still weeping silently.

“Hundreds,” she promised. “I must report our progress, must I not?”

Japan - Juushin Way Academy, late Edo period (18th Century)
“Is that … is that a tornado?!”

“Kami-sama, it’s headed for the dorms! There are children in there!”

California - Juushin Way Academy, mid Meiji period (18th Century)
Shiraishi Ikkou didn’t look up when the other man joined him on the cliff overlooking the school, continuing to stare out over the grounds. He didn’t need to; he’d known the moment he’d come to his decision that Isshuu would realize something was wrong and come looking for him.

After the death of their parents in the last Nighlok War, he and Ikenami Isshuu had been raised together by his father’s cousin and his wife. They were kind people, but distant, and both boys had always known that they’d been taken in by the Shiba Clan’s orders. It hadn’t mattered to either of them, though; Isshuu was more his brother than his friend.

“It isn’t working. Is it.”

He smiled faintly. Isshuu had always been observant. “No.”

There was another moment of silence. Eventually Isshuu shifted, leaving them back to back. “You’re leaving. Aren’t you.”

“Yes.”

A huff. “Do I at least have an explanation of why?”

Do you truly need one? he wondered fondly, but he answered him all the same. “The Air Style doesn’t work for all the new students. Some of them are getting out of control.”

“We’ve handled - “

“So far,” he reminded him pointedly. “We’ve handled them so far. Fukami-kun and Uzaki-chan were too close.”

Isshuu let out a gusty sigh, but he didn’t argue. “So what style are you?”

He adjusted himself as Isshuu’s head dropped back onto his shoulder, reaching up to ruffle the other’s hair affectionately. “Style?”

“There’s the Juushin Way and the Beast Fist Art,” Isshuu explained. “So what’s your way, Onii-san?”

He hmmed thoughtfully. “Something with storms, maybe. I’ve noticed one of the new ones summons lightning when she’s angry.”

“Ikazuchi Way?” Isshuu suggested.

Ikazuchi … Power of Thunder, he mused.

“I like it.”

California - Ikazuchi Way Academy, late Meiji period (19th Century)
“We have come for the child.”

Shiraishi Kaze glared furiously at the trio dressed in dark clothing. “Sending assassins in the night, to scare the children into obeying their studies? Has the Shiba Clan sunk so low?”

“If *you* had succeeded at controlling him, we would not be needed,” the one in the back snapped.

“He is a child, not a beast!”

“He is a threat to everyone around him. We will neutralize that threat before he turns.”

“This is for the best, Shiraishi-san,” one of them added kindly. “Not all monsters can be saved.”

California - Juushin Way Academy, early Taisho period (19th Century)
“We regret to inform you that the Council of the Five Families, as appointed by the late Shiba Makoto, has decreed that all Samurai be summoned back to the House of Shiba in appointment of the 14th Generation of Samurai."

“But who will run the schools now?” Tamashi Akiko asked the other three anxiously. “We cannot abandon our students!”

Ikenami Kasumi swallowed hard, staring out over the Juushin Way Academy from the hill where they’d all chosen to meet. “The students will teach each other. There are some … some who will stay, who are strong enough to teach. They can help each other.”

“We have no other choice,” Shiraishi Sora muttered bitterly, staring into the mountains in the distance.

California - Juushin Way Academy, early Showa period (1924)
“The strongest shape is a triangle, right?” Sensei Phillips explained to her fellow teachers.

“That’s debatable,” Sensei Harmond muttered, wincing as Sensei Tran elbowed him in the side.

“We’ve been isolating the students when we teach them, but what if we’ve got things all wrong? What if what they really need is a counterbalance?”

The others stared at her. “Are you saying you want to put a crowd of highly emotional and overbearing young people in one class together?” Sensei Harmond demanded.

“Not all of them,” she corrected. “I was thinking smaller groups, maybe three? How can we ever be sure they’ll learn to handle their powers without supervision if we don’t give them the room to try?”

California - Juushin Way Academy, mid Showa period (1956)
“Are you sure about this, Ken - er, Headmaster?”

Headmaster Donnelly sighed softly. Is anyone? he wondered to himself. “We are ninja, are we not Sensei Carl?”

The other man gave him an odd look. “We are.”

“In times of war, ninja were assassins. We are no longer at war.”

“Not currently, no … “

“Ninjas were also masters of disguise, yes? And what better way to disguise one’s true ability, then as nothing more than an ordinary citizen?”

There was a long moment of silence as the other man considered that.

Ken watched the graduating students as they talked amongst themselves excitedly. Not all of them would leave - some were happy in the Academy, and had chosen to take teaching positions rather than rejoin society. Others had jumped at the chance, seeing their time in the school as a form of imprisonment. The chance to be free, to prove that they had mastered their powers, that they could be trusted to be left unattended …

“What if … what if you need to send them?” Sensei Carl asked, nodding to the quiet group on the outskirts of the graduating class. They had chosen not to join with their fellow graduates. Given the nature of the assignment they’d chosen, neither man could blame them.

They were a precaution, if anything. For the chance that a student could not contain themselves, that outside of the peace and safety of the Academies, they would become a danger to society once again. If they should, there would be someone to track them down and contain them, and hopefully bringing them in before the Samurai Council caught word of it.

One way or another.

“I pray we never do,” Ken said softly.

California - Wind Ninja Academy, late Showa period (1964)
“Did you hear? Emery was shipped out to the other school yesterday. Guess things got too hairy with her around.”

“Figures. She was always wigged out, wasn’t she?”

“Where’d she go?”

“That one, Zu - Ekazoo - ugh, I can never pronounce it right. The Thunder Academy.”

“Where they send the violent people? Good riddance!”

Panorama Island, late Showa period (1974)
“It’s not fair!” Shiraishi Miko shrieked.

Her older brother Hotaka watched her calmly from the doorway, arms folded, as she attacked a training dummy viciously. “It’s about to - “

The head went flying, crashing into the wall and rebounding to catch her in the stomach. She dropped like a stone.

She stayed where she was for a moment, wheezing painfully as she tried to catch her breath. She blamed the lump of fabric and stuffing for the water in her eyes. I’m not crying, she told herself as she shoved it away. I’m not. Samurai don’t cry.

“It’s not fair,” she muttered again, blinking hard.

Hotaka sighed as he came to crouch beside her. “Miko-chan - “

“It isn’t,” she insisted, glaring up at him. “I’m closer to Sakura-chan than any of you! We’ve been best friends since before we could walk! We fight well together, we know each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and we trust each other more than anyone. I’m just as strong as any of you! Why wasn’t I the one chosen for the Pink Shodo Pen? It should have been me!”

“You’re not the oldest.”

“Don’t give me that,” she snapped. “Mori Ayame was the third child in her family, and Mori Emi was the second.”

“Mori Ayame had stronger symbol power than her siblings,” Hotaka pointed out calmly. “And Mori Emi’s brother nearly became a Nighlok himself.”

“So become a Nighlok. I’ll save you before you make the change, and we’ll all be happier.”

He smacked the back of her head lightly. “Don’t say such things,” he warned.

“I *said* I’d save you,” she muttered.

There was a long moment of silence before Hotaka finally sighed and shifted to rest on his knees. “It wasn’t only because we’re older,” he said eventually. There was an odd note in his voice.

She glanced up at him suspiciously. “What was the other reason?”

He seemed to be wrestling with himself over something. “One of the Kuroko saw you.”

She blinked at him. “Saw me?”

He closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Onii-san, what are you - “

“You and Sakura-sama. They said … they saw you together … being intimate.”

She stared at him. “Being - “

And then she remembered.

“It’s okay, Sakura-chan. You don’t have to be scared. I’ll protect you.”

“My hero,” her friend murmured, giving a sweet smile.

She reached up to cup Sakura’s cheek, rubbing her thumb over the other girl’s nose. “I’ll keep all the big, harry spiders away from you,” she promised, and they both burst into giggles.

“But that’s - that was nothing! Are you saying that the Clans are sending me away because Sakura-chan and I are affectionate with each other?!”

Hotaka looked pained. “You know your duty as a member of this clan, Miko-chan.”

She stiffened.

Years and years of training, of sacrificing time and friendships in favor of her future as a Samurai Ranger. Of binding blisters on her hands and pulling splinters from under her fingernails after hours of practicing symbols. Of forcing herself to tolerate the attentions of arrogant, disgusting boys the Clans paraded past her like prize stallions, scrutinized for the best partner to breed strong little Samurai with.

All for nothing. Because a servant who her family had taken in after his training, given a home and a job and a future, thought she had been too close to her dearest friend. A servant who without her Clan’s support, would have turned into a monster and been put down like the dog he was.

Her fists tightened, and when she spoke, her voice was low and full of fury. "I would rather join the schools, and become a ninja, than be a member of a clan that would judge me for loving someone out respect for an old rule forcing us to birth more soldiers for them to sacrifice!”

He tensed. “Miko, you can’t say things like that!”

“Watch me,” she hissed.

California - Wind Ninja Academy, early Heisei period (1988)
“That girl is a menace.”

An earnest, innocent smile. “But I didn’t *mean* to make trouble, Sensei. Honest.”

“She broke into the food stores *again*?”

“I had to do it, Sensei! Dennis forgot to eat again, and he could get sick if he doesn’t!”

“That food was for the students! She tossed it outside for the animals!”

“They were hungry, Sensei! Aren’t we supposed to find harmony with nature? How can I be in harmony with someone who’s going hungry?”

The trouble with young Miss Campbell, Headmaster Martin thought wearily, was that she had an excuse for everything.

It wasn’t that she was a bad child, or even a bad student. On the contrary: she was hardworking, dedicated to her studies, and ambitious. She took to her lessons like a duckling to water, and even the teachers who called her a troublemaker admitted she was a joy to teach. She had a passion for life and learning that few students could match.

She was also failing spectacularly.

He’d tried her in Earth Style first, seeing her love for animals and nature as a sign of the best discipline for her to study. It had worked in the beginning, when it came to the basics. But for all its strength, Earth was a gentle Style, and they soon learned that for her kindness, a way of gentleness was not Aisha’s path.

Everyone had known Water Style wasn’t for her. She had the passion and curiosity for the element, but Water was a patient Style, and Aisha was anything but patient. He’d put her in a few classes as a test just to be sure, but had been forced to hastily remove her when she flooded the first floor dorms.

At that point, he’d been sure Air was the best choice for her. Air Style had energy and passion, strength and flow. It was a challenge to master for even the most dedicated student, and Aisha was certainly all those things and more.

But she was struggling. After four years with the Wind Academy, more than two in her style, she should be near graduating. She had all the forms down - had mastered forms for every style she’d tried, but when it came to elemental control, she was a loose cannon. Her air gusts sent her flying to the roof and over trees, and on one memorable occasion, even sent her own Sensei through the forest and into the city. No one knew what to expect when she summoned wind: sometimes she could barely draw a stiff breeze, others she drew a tornado. She simply had too much power to control.

And power was dangerous. A ninja who could not learn to control their power could never function in ordinary society. And if Aisha Campbell could not learn to function …

He shuddered at the thought.

No one had been forced to report a student in years. He wouldn’t let her be the next to be contained. Aisha was too sweet, too earnest, too loyal, for him to give up on her now.

He stared at the letter bearing the seal of the Thunder Academy. Headmaster Eberhardt had agreed to take Aisha in on a trial basis, to see if Thunder Style would fit her better. The forms he’d sent along for her to try in his last letter seemed to be working, but they wouldn’t know for sure until she was ready to try summoning. If Thunder didn’t help her gain control, the only place left to try would be the Pai Zhua Academies in China, which would mean convincing her parents to send her away.

It was a conversation he hoped to avoid.

“Headmaster!” Kanoi Watanabe burst out, throwing open the door to his office. “Headmaster, you have to - “

“Sensei Watanabe,” he interrupted, giving the young man a hard stare. “While I understand that you are still new to your position, you would do well to remember that it comes with a sense of decorum.”

Kanoi winced slightly, bowing. “My apologies, Headmaster. But there is something you must see.”

He held in a groan. “And what is Miss Campbell up to this time? The food stores again?”

“Oh, she’s not - er, she isn’t causing a problem, Headmaster. But please, you have to see this!”

Kanoi has always been fond of troublemakers, he thought with a sigh as he rose to his feet. “Very well. Show me.”

The sound of a very familiar laugh, wild and free and full of mischief caused him to hurry toward the main courtyard, only to stop short abruptly as he caught sight of what Kanoi had wanted him to see.

Aisha Campbell was laughing, her face lit up as she held a perfect miniature dust storm in the center of the courtyard. Perched on top of said dust storm was a young man in one of the new student uniforms, whooping in delight as he waved his arms around, trying to get more height. As they watched, the storm responded, tossing him lightly a few feet higher before settling back down to his original height.

“Rocky, be careful!” the anxious-looking boy standing beside Aisha shouted up at him. He glanced at Aisha. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Relax Adam, I know what I’m doing. You worry too much.”

... And so the student becomes the teacher, Headmaster Martin thought with some humor.

One of the main principles of the Wind Academy Style was the study of balance. Aisha had many friends, but she’d never balanced with any of them before, not in the way she needed to be. He’d assumed it was due to the need to find her Style, and that once they found it, she would naturally find the pair that balanced her out.

He never thought they’d find her first.

“This creates a problem,” he murmured to himself. He could hardly send her to the Thunder Academy now, not when they’d found her Body and Mind. The boy on the dust storm - Rocky, if he’d heard them correctly - was clearly Air, and very much a natural in controlling himself on the storm. They’d need time to study Adam first, but his instinctive need to reign in the others hinted strongly at Water. All the makings of a hurricane. Wonderful. We’ll have to water proof the training areas again.

“Headmaster?”

“It’s nothing, Sensei Watanabe,” he dismissed, waiving a hand. “Please contain your students. If you’ll excuse me, I have a letter to write to Headmaster Eberhardt.”

Kanoi frowned. “Of the Thunder Academy? Why?”

“I suspect one of his teachers is about to make a very long journey.”

California - Wind Ninja Academy, early Heisei period (1990)
“So why did you become a teacher, Sensei?” Rocky asked as he hooked his knees around the branch he was perched on and leaned back to hang upside down.

“Because I enjoy watching troublemakers make something of themselves. Preferably without cracking their heads open first,” Sensei Kanoi added pointedly.

Rocky made a face, but swung upright obediently. “No, but I mean, everyone talks about what they do after they leave right? And we hear stories about it, like Miss Kartal on the news, or that lecture we got about using our powers responsibly from Marcus - “

“The lecture that may or may not have had something to do with the sudden change in weather patterns along the coast of California last month?”

“It was an accident,” Rocky asserted again.

“Hmm.”

“But really, Sensei, why a teacher? Why not something cool, like … like a jet pilot or a … a storm chaser, or an astronaut!”

“Are those things that you would like to do someday?” he asked instead, watching carefully as a small gust of wind caught the boy before he could hit the ground.

“Mmm … maybe. I want to *use* my powers you know? Not hide them. I want to help people!”

“And what makes you think teachers do not help?”

Rocky paused, looking startled. “ … Huh. I never thought about it that way.” He glanced up. “Is *that* why you became a teacher, Sensei?”

For a moment, Kanoi thought of Miko. Of his son Cameron, currently safe at his own school despite the argument they’d had this morning - yet again - about his desire to become a student at the Academy. The family he had lost, and the family he was still struggling to protect. Of the home he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving behind after everything else he had lost.

“I suppose so,” he said at last. He reached out to ruffle Rocky's hair affectionately. "Someone must be the one help you find your own path, after all."