Return from Ashina

On the endless reed fields, a young boy with delicate features lay weakly amidst the reeds.

With a thunderous crack, several crisp clashes of blades followed.

The sound of blood spraying from a human body drifted away on the wind, followed by the thud of a heavy body hitting the ground.

"Hah—khk!!!"

The blood-red blade struck precisely at the neck, severing the obsession of one returned from Yellow Spring.

"Well done, Sekiro."

After saying that, the man who had been kneeling upright in the reeds seemed to have all life drained from him and collapsed heavily into the grass.

"Farewell."

Huo Yuhao sheathed the Immortal Severance Blade in his right hand, pressed his Left Hand together in a Buddhist salute, and paid his respects to the Sword Saint who had taught him the supreme way of the sword.

Though a Ninja's fate was destined to be one of killing, he must never abandon the last trace of compassion in his heart. Huo Yuhao had carried out that teaching well.

"Wolf, where are you?"

A weak voice rode the wind through the reed field into Huo Yuhao's ears. As a Ninja, Huo Yuhao could detect even the faintest sound.

Huo Yuhao quickly walked to the boy's side, dropped to one knee, and said, "Divine Child, I am by your side."

Huo Yuhao looked reluctantly at the child before him, who had endured far too many trials. He would never forget that moonlight atop Moonview Tower, nor the lonely figure standing there—the small figure who had placed all his hopes upon him.

Taking out the Dragon Tears and Everblossom from his clothes, both wrapped in strips of cloth, Huo Yuhao slowly lifted the Divine Child's head with his other hand, as though he had made some sort of decision.

"Divine Child, please drink the Dragon Tears."

The glowing Dragon Tears made the pink Everblossom look even more beautiful. The pink light even reflected Huo Yuhao's face and his gray-brown Ninja attire, made mostly of linen and canvas.

The Divine Child struggled to open his eyes, but managed only a narrow slit—just enough to see his Ninja staring at him with deep reluctance.

"Wolf..."

The Divine Child wanted to raise his jade-like hand and stroke his Ninja's weathered cheek, but the power of the Dragon Tears and Everblossom quickly dissolved within him. The next moment, his head tilted aside, and he lost consciousness once more.

Huo Yuhao slowly lowered the arm supporting the Divine Child's head, then moved it behind himself and gripped the Great Katana strapped to his back.

"Shing—"

With a soft sound, the long blade left its sheath. A Great Katana wrapped in blood-red color, its edge chipped all over, was drawn.

"I will bring an end to the last immortality."

Huo Yuhao gazed at the blood-red Great Katana in his hand, which radiated an aura that devoured life, and slowly pointed its blade at his own neck.

"Divine Child, please live well as an ordinary person."

Huo Yuhao's gaze fell upon the Divine Child. He wanted to reach out and touch the child's tender face, but in the end, he never released his grip on the Immortal Severance Blade.

"Swish—"

The instant the Immortal Severance Blade fell, Huo Yuhao's body turned into drifting cherry blossoms and scattered into the reed field against the wind.

"Huff! Huff!"

His neck had been severed directly by the Great Katana. The agonizing pain that erupted from his Nerve center in that instant made Huo Yuhao snap his eyes open, gasping for breath. What reached his ears was no longer the wild wind sweeping across the boundless reed fields, nor the endless thunder, but only the intermittent coughing of a woman.

"Cough, cough. Cough, cough."

When he opened his eyes, the reed leaves drifting in the wind had vanished. He raised his hands. His right hand, once covered in sword scars and calluses, had become completely new—a thin, small right hand that could only belong to a child.

The Left Hand that Genichiro had severed, which had later inherited Flying Monkey's arm and become a Shinobi Prosthetic fitted with all manner of killing tools, was gone. In its place was merely a Left Hand perfectly symmetrical to his right.

His thick finger joints had become smooth and delicate, though they were still covered in countless tiny wounds. Some had been left behind while doing chores, while others were chilblains from helping his mother wash clothes during the winter.

He blankly raised his head and looked at the dusty Horizontal beam above him. A thought he had longed for beyond measure, yet never dared hope for, flashed through Huo Yuhao's mind.

"Have I... come back?"

Stumbling down from the bedboard, Huo Yuhao rushed out of the room and saw the scene he had once yearned for day and night.

A simply dressed woman with long brown hair had already tied it up early that morning. Sitting somewhat inelegantly with her legs apart before the doorway, she scrubbed something vigorously. Before her stood a wooden bucket filled with river water. Inside, more than a dozen potatoes rolled about happily as the woman rubbed them hard, washing away the mud covering them until they became golden and smooth.

"Yu Hao, you're awake? I'm making your favorite potato strip pies today. The old steward brought half a jin of well salt while delivering food today. I'll use some of it to make pies for you, then sell the rest at the market and trade it for two eggs to help build you up—"

Before the woman could finish, Huo Yuhao had already frozen in place, as though his soul had left his body. He wanted to say something, but in the end, he could only stare at her without uttering a word. His eyes burned, and a teardrop the size of a bean suddenly rolled down. Huo Yuhao instinctively shook his head, wanting to avoid her gaze so she would not see how disheveled he looked.

He had thought he might burst into tears, with tears pouring from his eyes like floodwaters breaking through a dam, weeping until his face was a mess. Yet after a full year of blood and fire, his habits no longer allowed him to show such weakness.

Huo Yuhao desperately wanted to rush to the plainly dressed woman in a few strides, drop to his knees with a thud, cling to her, and howl his heart out. But in the end, he merely lowered his head as naturally as he could and softly murmured, "Mm."

After dancing on the edge of a blade for a year, Huo Yuhao's temperament had undergone earth-shaking changes. He had even given up on the possibility of ever returning here. He had believed he would never again see the mother he had missed day and night, never again see the woman who had given him all her love and tenderness.

The scene he had fantasized about countless times was now truly before him. Huo Yuhao's shoulders trembled without pause, and the corners of his mouth twitched. His lips quivered as though he wanted to say something, but speaking—once so simple—had become incomparably difficult.

A blazing emotion, dreamlike and exhilarating, surged from Huo Yuhao's heart to his throat, then slipped through the gaps between his tightly clenched teeth.

Huo Yuhao slowly clenched his right hand into a fist, raised it, and pressed the third joint of his Index Finger hard against the center of his upper lip, using it to restrain the excitement in his heart.

At that moment, his mind was crackling with smoke from the sudden excitement. If he did not restrain himself, this malnourished little body might be overwhelmed and faint directly from the wild joy surging from the depths of his heart.

"Yu Hao."

The woman froze. She stood and looked at the unnatural Huo Yuhao, then gently embraced him. Within that tender embrace, all strength seemed to leave his body. The emotions he had been suppressing burst forth in an instant, overwhelming his frail Sea of Spirit and knocking him unconscious.

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