The bells of Japonica tolled.
A low, mournful chime that rolled across the mountains and rivers, reaching even the farthest villages.
Every man, woman, and child stood still that day. Soldiers in polished armor. Shinobi in their dark garb. Farmers, merchants, monks, and wandering swordsmen alike.
All had gathered for the same reason.
To mourn the passing of the Sword Saint—Isshin Arashi.
Klaus and Sofie stood among the sea of black. They wore traditional funeral garb: simple yet solemn robes, dark as night.
The great courtyard of Ashina Castle was filled to its limits. Lanterns lined the paths, their flames flickering like fragile souls.
At the very front, where the altar was draped in white, Klaus's eyes caught sight of a man—tall, proud, with silver hair bound back and eyes sharp as a blade. His presence alone radiated command.
Ryuzen Arashi.
Isshin's eldest son, Tatsuki and Kuro's father.
The new head of the Arashi Clan.
He looked much like his father, though younger, with a steel-like posture and crimson eyes that reflected both grief and responsibility.
Beside him stood his wife, serene and radiant even in sorrow.
Her name was Shizuka Arashi. Her long white hair shimmered faintly beneath her veil, and her expression was calm yet unbearably heavy like the moon veiled behind clouds.
At their side, Tatsuki wept openly, unable to contain her grief. Her hands clutched the ceremonial beads tightly, shoulders trembling.
Behind them, the rest of the Arashi clan members and family heads bowed in silence, each carrying their own sorrow.
Klaus felt something twist inside him as he watched Tatsuki.
He wanted to step forward. To say something. Anything.
But Ashborn's voice whispered within him:
"…Do not burden yourself, boy. His death was his choice, his honor. It's not your fault."
Still… Klaus's chest ached.
Three Days of Mourning
For three days, the whole of Japonica was draped in silence and black.
On the second day, the heavens themselves seemed to bow the skies opening as six colossal ships arrived.
From them descended Emperor Malrik Vortan and the Seven Monarchs: Thalor, Kaleus, Zephyra, Elari, Solene, Varion, and Zevarion.
Their presence weighed upon the funeral like a divine storm.
Yet even they bowed their heads before Isshin's pyre.
For all their power, none could deny the Sword Saint's legend.
When the rites ended, silence returned. And with it, the grief of a nation sank deep into its bones.
On the morning of the fourth day, Klaus and Sofie stood at the gates of Ashina Castle.
The air was still heavy, though the clouds had parted.
Tatsuki came to meet them. Her eyes were still red from crying, but there was fire in her gaze now.
"It's too bad you have to leave so soon…" she said softly, clutching her hands together.
Klaus smiled faintly, trying to ease her heart.
"Don't worry. We'll be back."
Sofie stepped forward, taking Tatsuki's hands gently, her warmth steady. "We'll see each other again. So keep your head up, alright?"
Tatsuki bit her lip, then nodded, squeezing their hands tightly. "Then promise me this… Grow stronger. Live on. Because this world will need you both."
Klaus and Sofie exchanged a glance, the weight of her words anchoring in their hearts.
They nodded as one.
Before leaving, the two wandered through Japonica one last time.
They visited temples draped in incense, monuments etched with the names of fallen heroes, and hidden gardens Isshin once loved.
They ate steaming bowls of noodles at small street stalls, laughing softly as the warmth filled them after the long days of grief.
Finally, they made a quiet detour to a small home near the edge of the district.
Rowan's home.
The boy's mother, Serena, welcomed them warmly, while his little sister Alina peeked shyly from behind her skirts.
They shared tea, sweets and laughter, Sofie doting on Alina while Klaus listened quietly to Serena's stories.
When they finally rose to leave, Rowan came running after Klaus, determination burning in his young eyes.
"Next time you come back I'll be the strongest!!" he shouted, puffing his chest out.
Klaus crouched down, meeting his gaze. He smiled and rested a hand on the boy's head.
"Then make sure you're strong enough to take care of your mother and sister, alright?"
Rowan froze, then grinned wide.
He snapped into a clumsy military pose, saluting stiffly.
"Yes, sir!!"
Sofie laughed, her shoulders shaking at the sight. Klaus chuckled too, warmth softening the sharp edges of his eyes.
At last, the day came. The harbor stretched before them, the great ship waiting.
As Klaus and Sofie walked up the pier, something small and furry suddenly landed on Klaus's head.
He blinked, reaching up and froze when he felt something familiar.
"Varnyx?"
A lazy, familiar voice rumbled above him.
"Tch… don't talk so loud. I'm tired."
Klaus looked up and nearly burst into laughter.
Instead of the proud ancient dragon, perched atop his head was a tiny, fluffy creature with golden eyes and long ears.
"…You look different."
"Too tired for my human form," Varnyx mumbled, curling up like a smug cat. "This'll do."
Klaus opened his mouth to ask where he'd been this whole time but Varnyx was already asleep, snoring faintly.
Sofie covered her mouth, giggling uncontrollably. "He's supposed to be a god, and he's… like this?"
Klaus sighed, shaking his head. "He's an ancient dragon."
Sofie staggered back dramatically, pretending to be shocked, then burst out laughing. "The god of dragons… napping like a furball on your head. That's hilarious!"
Klaus's lips twitched into a rare, soft smile.
And with that Sofie, Klaus, and the sleeping Varnyx boarded the ship, the winds carrying them away from Japonica.
---
The ship's horn bellowed as it docked.
The salty air of the Meridian continent wrapped around Klaus and Sofie as they disembarked, exhaustion clinging to their bodies like lead.
The bustling port was alive with noise, yet for Klaus, every sound seemed muted his chest still heavy with the weight of Isshin's funeral.
They hailed a carriage, the kind lined with soft velvet, and for the ride back Sofie leaned against his shoulder, silent, her eyes half-lidded. Klaus didn't say a word.
He simply let the quiet carry them.
By the time the gates of the Ignar estate loomed into view, the sun was sinking low.
The sprawling manor bathed in gold looked almost dreamlike too peaceful, too untouched, compared to the storms they had weathered.
As they stepped out, Lady Sera herself was waiting at the entrance.
A few housemaids hurried forward, reaching for the luggage.
But Sofie didn't wait.
The moment her feet touched the stone, she ran straight into her mother's arms.
"Mother!" Sofie cried, hugging her tightly.
Lady Sera's eyes widened, startled for only a second before her arms wrapped around her daughter firmly.
Relief washed over her features as she pulled Sofie close, brushing strands of her hair.
"My sweet girl… I heard of Isshin's passing. Are you both alright?"
Sofie buried her face in her mother's shoulder, while Klaus, still standing near the carriage, forced a faint nod.
His voice was quiet, low.
"Ya..we are alright."
But the sadness in his tone lingered, a shadow that wouldn't lift.
And perched atop his head, still curled like a tuft of fur, was Varnyx snoring softly.
At least until one word caught his ear.
"…Food."
In an instant, the little dragon sprang awake.
With a sudden flutter, he zipped from Klaus's head and circled Lady Sera like a comet, golden eyes gleaming.
"Food? Did someone say food?!"
Lady Sera blinked at the strange creature, then gasped softly as he landed on her shoulder, purring like a kitten.
His long ears flicked, his fur shimmering faintly.
"Oh my goodness…" Sera's lips curved into a delighted smile. "What a precious thing you are…"
She reached up and scratched his chin, and Varnyx melted instantly into her touch.
"Y-Yes, exactly human, more of that! And then food!"
Sofie giggled for the first time since their return, and even the maids struggled to hide their smiles.
Lady Sera, smitten already, shook her head fondly. "Alright, all of you come in. A warm bath and a proper meal will set you straight."
Inside the estate, laughter and warmth slowly filled the air again.
Sofie disappeared with her mother, Varnyx darted off toward the kitchens, and the halls buzzed faintly with life.
But Klaus…
Klaus drifted away quietly. His steps carried him to his chamber, where silence waited.
The moment the door closed, he sank down by the frame, legs pulled up, his head tilted toward the sword resting beside him.
Fushigiri.
The cold steel seemed to hum faintly in the dim light.
Inside his soul, Ashborn stirred. His voice was low, deep, resonant.
"…Do not punish yourself, boy. Death comes for even the strongest. Isshin fought with honor. He would not want your tears."
But Klaus didn't answer.
Tears blurred his vision as he pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes.
His chest ached as memories replayed Isshin's last smile, his fall, the flames that carried him to the next world.
And so he cried. Not the quiet stoicism he usually wore, but raw, shaking sobs that spilled out in waves.
Ashborn's presence remained steady. The ancient being didn't speak again.
He simply stayed, letting the boy grieve.
Minutes. Hours. Klaus didn't know.
Until, finally, his sobs slowed. His shoulders dropped. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, his breaths uneven.
Then, brokenly he spoke.
"…It's been a while since I saw someone close to me die…"
His fingers curled tight around the hilt of Fushigiri, knuckles white.
"The last time… was my adopted mother."
The words trembled from him, bitter and hollow.
His voice cracked, but his eyes no longer wept. They were empty, staring at the blade as though it held answers.
The room remained silent.
Only Ashborn's quiet, steady presence lingered, like a shadow refusing to leave.