Master, We're Back

Mount Sagiri.

Moonlight filtered through the dense mist, falling like a silver veil before the wooden cabin at the foot of the mountain.

Sakontzi Urokodaki stood at the door like a stone statue. Through his red tengu mask, his worried eyes could be seen.

With a creak, the cabin door opened. Makomo walked over to her master with a blanket in hand. She handed it to him and gently comforted him.

"Master, the two of them will definitely come back!" She looked at the white at his temples, her heart aching for him. "You've been standing here all day. Go inside and rest for a while!"

Sakontzi Urokodaki raised his rough hand and rubbed Makomo's little head, his tone becoming much gentler.

"Silly girl, I'm fine. I just wanted to look at the moon."

"Wow!" Sabito's incredulous voice rang out from within the mist, carrying a trace of displeasure. "Master, when are you going to speak to me that gently?"

At his words, Urokodaki's body jolted, and Makomo's eyes widened as well. The two of them smiled at the same time, because two figures stood within the mist.

That meant Sabito and Giyu had both returned safely. They had successfully passed the Final Selection.

"It's good that you're back. It's good that you're back. It's good that you're back..." Urokodaki repeated distractedly, over and over, until Sabito and Giyu emerged from the mist and stood before him. Only then did his heart finally settle.

Sabito grinned broadly. "Master, we're both strong. There was no need for you to worry."

"Oh, right, we even made friends!"

"They're all strong, especially the one named Tendo Hiruma. He's the former Rumble Hashira's disciple. Do you know him?"

He chattered on without pause, while Giyu remained a man of few words, merely nodding again and again.

After exchanging a few simple words, Sabito and Giyu suddenly turned solemn. They stretched out their arms and spread open their bundles.

"Master, it wasn't just the two of us who came back. They came back too!"

Sabito's voice carried a faint sorrow as Giyu slowly peeled back the layers of cloth wrapping eleven Disaster Averting Masks.

The instant the bloodstained masks appeared before Sakontzi Urokodaki, he understood everything.

Trembling, he accepted the battered Disaster Averting Masks. Memories of his disciples' faces and voices flashed through his mind.

"It's good that you've come home!"

Sakontzi Urokodaki's voice trembled. This time, he was speaking to his departed disciples.

Makomo understood at once and hurriedly dragged the two blockheads inside. She knew her master needed some time alone.

Urokodaki carefully wrapped up the masks and headed into the mountains with a blade.

A short while later, he walked through Mount Sagiri, dragging a neatly cut, unmarked tombstone behind him.

Mist billowed thickly, as dense as white ink. Even so, it could not conceal a teacher's grief.

Urokodaki found a place with good feng shui and dug a pit. He picked up one mask and carefully carved a name into it.

Gradually, eleven masks bearing names were arranged neatly within the pit. He scooped up a handful of dirt and filled it in.

Before long, a new mound of earth stood on Mount Sagiri, and Urokodaki erected a stone tablet.

Eleven names were carved upon it, followed by four large characters.

Graves of Beloved Disciples.

Sakontzi Urokodaki hugged the tombstone as two streams of clear tears flowed from beneath his tengu mask. The tears fell onto the fresh soil, splashing into tiny bubbles.

In a daze, eleven young figures appeared beyond the grave, every one of them smiling.

"Master, goodbye!"

"Master, we're leaving. Take care of yourself!"

"Master, it was wonderful to be able to come home!"

"Master, these were all our own choices. Don't blame yourself!"

"Master..."

Through his tear-blurred vision, Sakontzi Urokodaki saw a beam of light descend from the heavens. His eleven disciples ascended to the sky with smiles on their faces.

At that moment, he finally let go.

In the bushes not far away, the Water Breathing Trio silently watched it all, seeing off their senior brothers and sisters as well.

Above them, the stars glittered. Yet this sky did not belong to Mount Sagiri alone; it belonged to Peach Mountain as well.

Autumn on Peach Mountain was a season of abundant harvest. The wild peach trees on the mountain were laden with ripe fruit, their tender, juicy peaches hanging from every branch and filling the air with fragrance, tempting anyone who saw them.

Hiruma walked along a familiar path, casually plucked a peach, rubbed it against his clothes, and took a bite. Juice burst into his mouth.

"Haah!"

"If only Shinobu were here. The peaches on Peach Mountain are insanely delicious!"

"What a shame. She can't eat them!"

Seeing the peaches made him think of her. All he could do was turn his sorrow and frustration into appetite and wolf down another ten pounds first.

On the distant horizon, beneath the moonlight, a short figure quietly appeared.

It was Jigoro Kuwajima. In the middle of the night, he had heard smacking sounds coming from the peach grove. Thinking ripe peaches had attracted wild boars, he had come out with a blade to investigate.

Only when he saw that familiar figure did the old man wear an expression of exasperated disappointment.

A mountain of peach pits had piled up beside Hiruma, yet he was still bent over and eating away.

"Haah!"

The old man let out a long sigh, and the joy of reunion immediately vanished.

"Hiruma, when you come home, can't you go inside first?"

"Tonight, you can sleep with your peaches!"

Hearing him, Hiruma looked up and saw the old man standing there.

He dashed over and hugged him, but the old man shoved his disciple away with a disgusted look. "Don't rub all over me. You're filthy!"

"Huh?" Hiruma stared blankly at his master. Since when did this old man care so much about appearances? Something was off. Nine out of ten—no, ten out of ten suspicious.

"Old man, have things progressed between you and Granny Shizuko?"

"Get lost!" The old man kicked at Hiruma, but Hiruma easily dodged.

"Oh?" The old man drew out the word. This brat had improved quite a bit. Looks like he'd been training hard. The sun really had risen in the west.

"By the way, why didn't that little girl come?" Without turning back, the old man headed toward the cabin as he asked.

With both hands behind his head, Hiruma leisurely followed after him and replied.

"Old man, I went to the Final Selection, not on a picnic. How could she come along?"

"What did you think of it?"

"Old man, let me tell you, your disciple slaughtered his way through it. Those demons were all ridiculously weak. I took them down one by one with a single slash. You should've seen how valiant and dashing your disciple was—handsome as jade, suave and elegant..."

Before Hiruma could finish bragging, Jigoro Kuwajima walked up and gave him a sharp knock on the head.

"Enough already. You exaggerate twice as much as anyone else!"

"Never let your guard down when holding a blade. Stay humble and steady, or you'll lose your life!"

Hiruma rubbed the swelling on his head and nodded.

"Hungry?" Jigoro Kuwajima suddenly asked. "Why eat so many peaches when your home is right here?"

"Starving!" Hiruma nodded like a pecking chicken. "I was afraid of disturbing your rest, Master. It was all out of sincere filial devotion!"

"Go change your clothes. You look like a beggar." Jigoro Kuwajima pointed at the cabin, then headed for the kitchen himself. "Dinner will be ready soon."

No matter how long Hiruma had been away, the old man remained the same sharp-tongued, soft-hearted old man.