Two Wrongs Make a Right Ch. 43 (Patreon)

I'm seated in the overseer's former office; now my temporary command center, watching through the window as another convoy of vehicles slowly departs from the town gates, kicking up dust trails as they navigate the dirt road toward Kagehama, the closest town inside Spider clan territory.

We negotiated a deal with the Spider clan, though they weren't offering charity by any means. They're perpetually hungry for more bodies to fuel their ever-growing business empire and strengthen their position against rival families, so the arrangement worked out practically for both parties: the human workers went to them as new labor and potential recruits, while the faunus came with us to Menagerie. The split was roughly seventy-thirty in favor of faunus, reflecting the settlement's actual demographics, but at least we secured many heavy transport vehicles on loan to expedite the evacuation.

Even with the additional vehicles, it'll still take four more days to fully evacuate the mining town along with completing our salvage operations. Not ideal from a security standpoint, but acceptable given the circumstances and sheer volume of materials we're moving.

I'm currently discussing with Pod about these details, who hovers nearby projecting various data streams, inventory assessments, and real-time updates.

"THE RAW DUST RESERVES ARE SUBSTANTIALLY LARGER THAN INITIAL ESTIMATES, COMMANDER. DESPITE THE FACILITY HAVING ALREADY SHIPPED MOST OF THEIR RECENT PRODUCTION TO SDC PROCESSING CENTERS, TOTAL REMAINING EXTRACTION ESTIMATES INDICATE APPROXIMATELY 247 TONS OF UNREFINED DUST ACROSS ALL ELEMENTAL TYPES."

That's a considerable amount of Dust.

"And the mining equipment?" I ask, reviewing the itemized list on the projected list.

"ACQUISITION OF MINING EQUIPMENT PROCEEDING AS SCHEDULED. WHILE THIS PARTICULAR FACILITY LACKS HEAVY AUTOMATED MACHINERY, WE ARE SUCCESSFULLY SALVAGING VARIED SPECIALIZED EQUIPMENT: DRILLING ASSEMBLIES, MANUAL EXTRACTION TOOLS, PNEUMATIC SUPPORT SYSTEMS, CONVEYOR COMPONENTS, STRUCTURAL REINFORCEMENT MATERIALS, AND SAFETY MONITORING DEVICES." Pod pauses briefly. "NOTABLE DEFICIENCY: SEVERE LACK OF PROPER SAFETY EQUIPMENT IN CURRENT INVENTORY. THIS FACILITY OPERATED WITH DELIBERATELY MINIMAL WORKER PROTECTION PROTOCOLS TO REDUCE OPERATIONAL COSTS."

Not remotely surprising given what we learned about the overseer's "optimization" priorities and his clinical approach to acceptable casualties.

"The raw Dust—we can't refine it ourselves yet with our current facilities, but it's still directly usable in its unrefined state, correct?"

"AFFIRMATIVE, COMMANDER. UNREFINED DUST REMAINS FUNCTIONAL FOR MULTIPLE APPLICATIONS INCLUDING POWER GENERATION, AMMUNITION PRODUCTION, AND BASIC ENERGY SYSTEMS, THOUGH SIGNIFICANTLY LESS EFFICIENT THAN PROPERLY PROCESSED AND REFINED VARIANTS. ENERGY OUTPUT REDUCED BY APPROXIMATELY 40-60% DEPENDING ON SPECIFIC ELEMENTAL TYPE AND APPLICATION METHOD. STABILITY CONCERNS ALSO INCREASE SUBSTANTIALLY WITH UNREFINED MATERIAL, REQUIRING MORE CAREFUL HANDLING PROTOCOLS."

Pod dismisses the inventory list with a gesture, replacing it with a different graph. "HOWEVER, GIVEN THE SUBSTANTIAL QUANTITY ACQUIRED AND CURRENT CONSUMPTION RATES ACROSS ALL OPERATIONS—THIS SHOULD PROVIDE ADEQUATE RESOURCES FOR EXTENDED OPERATIONS LASTING APPROXIMATELY 12-14 MONTHS AT CURRENT USAGE LEVELS."

So one more year of operational capacity, and that's without even counting the upcoming energy infrastructure transition we have planned. That's still nice breathing room for our plans and military.

"What's the current status on SDC communications? Any suspicions?"

"NEGATIVE, COMMANDER. SDC REGIONAL HEADQUARTERS REMAINS COMPLETELY UNAWARE OF FACILITY SEIZURE AND PERSONNEL CHANGES. ALL SCHEDULED REPORTS SUBMITTED WITHOUT INCIDENT. ALL ROUTINE COMMUNICATIONS HANDLED NORMALLY WITHIN EXPECTED PARAMETERS." There's almost something like pride in Pod's mechanical tone. "ADDITIONALLY, NEIGHBORING MINING SETTLEMENTS AND SDC FACILITIES SHOW NO INDICATION OF CONCERN, INCREASED SECURITY MEASURES, OR UNUSUAL COMMUNICATION TRAFFIC."

I nod approvingly. "And the scheduled supervisory visits from regional management?"

"I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY POSTPONED ALL SCHEDULED INSPECTIONS USING PLAUSIBLE TECHNICAL JUSTIFICATIONS AND MINOR SAFETY PROTOCOL REVIEWS. NEXT SCHEDULED PHYSICAL VISIT NOW DELAYED BY SIX WEEKS, PROVIDING SUBSTANTIAL OPERATIONAL BUFFER FOR COMPLETE EVACUATION AND EVIDENCE REMOVAL."

"Excellent work, Pod."

"GRATITUDE ACKNOWLEDGED, COMMANDER. ADDITIONAL NOTE: I HAVE COMPLETELY WIPED ALL IRONVEIL RESIDENT DEBT RECORDS FROM SDC FINANCIAL SYSTEMS AND BACKUP SERVERS. ALL WORKER ACCOUNTS NOW REGISTER AS PAID IN FULL WITH ZERO OUTSTANDING BALANCES AND CLEAN CREDIT HISTORIES."

A wry smile crosses my face at that particular detail. It was a textbook exploitation tactic for securing cheap, captive labor—establish a settlement in the middle of nowhere so workers cannot realistically leave, then systematically upcharge absolutely everything: food, basic essentials, housing, medical services, even laundry and bathing facilities. Pay them pittance wages that aren't even actual currency but company credits only usable at the overpriced company store, ensuring they can never accumulate enough real money to escape or pay off their manufactured debts.

'Another day older and deeper in debt.'

As the old song goes. 

A system deliberately and cynically designed to create permanent economic servitude through manufactured poverty and artificial scarcity.

At least the people we're evacuating won't be carrying that crushing additional burden into their new lives, and it won't affect their family members who might be working elsewhere in the kingdoms.

"Good thinking, Pod. Keep overseeing the salvage operations and maintaining the deception. Alert me immediately if any complications arise."

"UNDERSTOOD, COMMANDER."

Pod dismisses all holographic projections and exits through the open window, leaving me alone in the quiet office with just the sound of distant activity.

I sit there for a while longer, watching everyone working through the window, then retrieve my prosthetics engineering book and the notebook from my pocket space. 

I never stopped studying, I just do it whenever I have some time and cram as much as possible and with my talents that is still a very effective method. Last time it was the urban planning and city infrastructure volumes, but now it's time to focus on prosthetics engineering again.

I'm deep into a complex section about neural interface connections and how the new limb can properly transmit sensory feedback to the nervous system when there's a firm knock on the door.

I quickly verify if my helmet is secure, visor clean, no identifying features visible before responding.

"Enter."

The door opens to reveal a fox faunus woman wearing the distinctive white and red Mistralian traditional clothing with intricate embroidery, her porcelain fox mask pushed casually to the side of her head rather than covering her face. Her fox ears twitch slightly as she checks the room.

Kiriko, Hanzo's personal vassal and bodyguard. Or what he would prefer to call her—his guardian and trusted companion.

She steps inside and immediately offers a full, formal bow. "Master Shimada respectfully requests your presence, if you are currently available and willing."

I snap my book close and make a  show of stashing it inside my jacket before standing up from the chair. "I'm free at the moment. Please lead the way."

Kiriko straightens from her bow and nods with the same courtesy, then turns smoothly toward the door.

I follow the fox faunus out of the office and through the settlement's quieter administrative corridors, genuinely curious about what the exiled Shimada clan heir wants to discuss privately.

Kiriko leads me down the stairs and further into a corridor that ends at a small, private meeting room.

Kiriko knocks politely on the door. "Master Shimada, your guest has arrived. We are entering."

Guest? Me?

That's rather bold.

She opens the door smoothly and gestures for me to enter first before following behind and closing it softly.

Hanzo Shimada looks much the same as he did months ago when we first met—long, straight black hair tied back neatly in traditional Mistralian style, wearing elegant two-piece traditional clothing with subtle clan embroidery. He's standing before a portrait on the wall with his arms crossed behind his back, studying it intently. He turns around as we enter, his posture immediately shifting..

"Welcome," he says with a slight, respectful bow, his tone formal but not unfriendly. "Thank you for accepting my invitation."

I notice his bow is carefully placed on top of a desk rather than carried on his person. 

"You wished to speak with me?" I ask directly.

"Indeed. I have several matters of importance I wish to discuss with you, but first—" He gestures toward the cushions arranged around a low traditional table which definitely wasn't in this room yesterday. "Standing is not the proper way to conduct a conversation of substance and depth. This will take some time. Please, sit."

I should be the one making that offer in my temporary headquarters, but let's humor him and his traditional formalities.

Both of us take our seats across from each other, the traditional Mistralian table between us creating a formal yet comfortable distance. The room feels deliberately arranged for this exact purpose.

Hanzo looks at Kiriko with a subtle nod, and she immediately responds with a quick bow before quietly exiting the room.

He settles into his seat with crossed legs in the traditional posture. "I imagine you must have questions about why I am here, accompanying your forces on this operation rather than remaining in Spider clan territory."

"The thought had crossed my mind," I admit honestly. "Your presence here wasn't part of our original arrangement."

"The answer is straightforward and honest—I am searching for my people," He states simply. "What remains of them, scattered across this cursed continent and overseas."

"What do you mean by that, exactly?" I ask, leaning forward slightly with interest.

Hanzo's expression darkens. "After the Shimada clan's fall—after the Hitsui family's betrayal and the subsequent purges—many vassal families and those who worked under our protection were systematically hunted down. Servants, retainers, artisans, merchants who operated under our patronage, even distant friends and allies of the clan were dragged down by the filthy dogs who now call themselves the ruling families of Mistral."

His hands clench briefly into fists before he forces them to relax. "They attempted to completely erase our history, our legacy, our very existence from official records and living memory. However, not all were killed in the initial massacres. Many survived that first night of blood, yet they were subsequently sold into slavery as punishment for their association with our name, their loyalty treated as a crime. Now in this present this is unfortunately common practice in the cursed hands of corporations such as the SDC, who eagerly 'hire' politically problematic individuals as a token of false charity while exploiting their desperation."

He meets my gaze steadily, and I can see the determination burning there. "I am searching for the descendants of those survivors, those who still carry Shimada blood or loyalty in their hearts, even if they don't remember the name. To find them, gather them, offer them purpose and protection once more, and together reclaim what is rightfully ours by blood, honor, and birthright."

I consider this revelation for a moment. A long, multi-generational quest to rebuild a destroyed clan using the scattered descendants of survivors who were sold into corporate servitude centuries ago—that would be an extraordinarily difficult endeavor, requiring immense patience, substantial resources, and unwavering determination. But it's still a respectable goal, driven by loyalty and duty rather than simple revenge.

Though I suspect revenge plays a significant role as well.

"Have you found any of your people here, then?"

Hanzo shakes his head slowly, clear disappointment crossing his features. "It is deeply regrettable, but there were none among the workers here who could trace their lineage to Shimada vassals, servants, or associated families. I searched thoroughly through available records and scrutinized, but..." He trails off, frustration clear in his tone. "However, I will not abandon this search. There are many more settlements like this scattered throughout Mistral's territories, and each one represents another possibility, another chance to find what was lost."

I think for a moment, then ask what seems like an obvious question. "Why not simply visit those places openly and search for them directly through legal channels? There's no need to wait for my forces to launch full-scale attacks just to look through worker registries and employment records."

Hanzo shakes his head firmly, his expression hardening. "It is not as simple as it sounds, unfortunately. The corporations maintain strict control over their workers and their information, and they would never allow someone of my... background and political status to simply walk in and examine their labor forces or access their records. They would either deny me access entirely, claiming privacy regulations or corporate security, or worse—alert the families who would very much like to see me dead. And using a proxy wouldn’t work because they would immediately connect the dots and I would be sending a person to die for nothing."

He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "My family name still carries weight in Mistral political circles, but not the kind that opens doors. More the kind that closes them permanently."

I decide to ask the important, direct question. "So you want us to keep attacking more of these mining towns across Mistral? Liberate them so you can search through the populations? Is that what you're proposing as an arrangement?"

Hanzo simply stares at me in response, his silence is confirmation enough.

"Wouldn't Madam Malachite have something significant to say about this arrangement?" I point out pragmatically. "After all, increased White Fang operations against SDC holdings across the region might bring heat and unwanted attention to her business operations and territories. The kingdoms tend to crack down on everyone when corporations lose money."

"There are no SDC holdings within Spider clan territories—I made absolutely certain of it!" Hanzo's reply is curt, yet it carries an edge of pride. "That was one of my conditions for seeking her patronage."

"None at all?" I'm genuinely surprised to hear that claim. "That seems... unlikely given the SDC's reach."

"None," Hanzo confirms with quiet, fierce intensity. "Such parasitic corporations will never be allowed to set foot or establish any roots in the business empire of Lil' Miss Malachite. She has made that abundantly clear to all parties, and I reinforced that position. The Spider clan may engage in criminal enterprise, but they maintain their independence and sovereignty."

His voice takes on a different edge. "And when I successfully restore the Shimada clan back to its rightful place of power and influence in Mistral—and I will, no matter how long it takes—I will personally ensure that I raze any presence these exploitative foreign corporations attempt to establish in our homeland. They are a cancer that must be excised completely, an insult and affront to the legacy of merit, honor, and tradition that Mistral once led across all kingdoms."

I study the young man across from me carefully. That's certainly a bold, ambitious objective and a very interesting ideological stance. Hanzo is clearly a staunch conservative traditionalist who views corporations as foreign invaders systematically destroying Mistral's traditional power structures, cultural heritage, and way of life.

Which he is correct.

But I've only spoken with him once before, and that conversation was relatively brief and focused on the fight against the Brachydios. I cannot form a complete, accurate opinion of his character and beliefs based on such limited interaction.

However, if his conservative traditionalism also extends to being a complete luddite who reflexively rejects all technological progress and modernization as inherently corrupting, that could be problematic for potential future cooperation. 

On the other hand, having a powerful ally in Mistral with those particular anti-corporate views could be extremely—extremely—useful for my long-term plans. Someone like Hanzo, with traditional legitimacy and connections, could help me negotiate legitimate settlements, establish proper legal footholds and infrastructure, and especially secure new sanctioned trade routes inside Mistral instead of relying only on smugglers or deals with criminal organizations like the Spider clan.

I decide to probe for more information to better understand his actual positions and character.

"You mentioned your brother before," I begin carefully, watching his reaction. "Back during our first meeting."

Hanzo's expression immediately shifts, a visible frown crossing his features and his posture becoming more rigid. "Why bring that failure up again?" 

"You only explained briefly then," I say calmly, keeping my tone neutral. "You mentioned he took a different route, a different path to restore the glory of the Shimada clan, which brought dishonor to your family name and legacy. I'm curious about the specifics, if you're willing to share them."

Hanzo's frown deepens considerably, and his entire posture becomes noticeably more tense and defensive. "This is not a tale to share lightly with a stranger, regardless of our current working arrangement or mutual interests." His voice carries a clear warning. "My brother's choices and our family's internal matters are not topics for casual discussion."

Ah, so he wants trust established first before revealing personal pain. A test of sorts, wrapped in traditional courtesy.

What to do?

Should simply drop this potentially offensive topic? Or humor his implicit request for a demonstration of mutual trust.

However, at that precise moment, the door opens smoothly and his guardian enters carrying a wooden tray with elegant craftsmanship. On it rest two delicate porcelain cups with interesting designs and a rounded porcelain flask in the center, clearly containing alcohol.

She approaches our table and proceeds to carefully lift the flask, pouring amber liquid into each cup with precise movements before respectfully handing one to each of us with a slight bow.

So this is his test of trust, presented in traditional Mistralian fashion. The ritual of shared drink.

Wasn’t this mongolian ritual though? I kind of recall from my memories that due to this ritual Genghis Khan's father was assassinated.

I have to make a choice: remove my helmet and drink to show sincerity, vulnerability, and mutual respect—not only revealing my identity to him but also demonstrating that I trust him enough to believe he hasn't poisoned the drink—or refuse and possibly close this door permanently.

"For sharing tales of substance and pain, a drink is always welcome to soothe the dry throat and ease the burden of heavy memory," Hanzo adds with deliberate emphasis, watching me carefully over the rim of his cup as he picks it up but doesn't yet drink. "It is tradition, shared pain requires a shared drink. Only then can a bridge of trust be established between those who carry similar burdens."

Interesting views.

Now the cup sits before me, waiting.

I think for a long moment, weighing the risks and benefits. Revealing my identity is risky because what actually stops Hanzo from sharing this information with Madam Malachite, and then what stops her from deciding to sell me out to Atlas?

Honor?

Actually, that could be a valid reason in this specific case. Everything I've observed so far demonstrates that Hanzo is intensely, almost obsessively honorable, perhaps to a fault. He adheres rigidly to tradition and the old codes of conduct with an almost religious fervor. But then again, General Ironwood already knows of my survival after the behemoth fight months ago, and yet nothing has changed on the world stage. No international manhunt, no public announcements, no Atlas military operations against my home.

As for the drink itself and potential poison... Well, my body is immune to poisons. That was never really a serious concern.

I reach up and grasp my helmet firmly. Then I make my decision and pull it off smoothly, revealing my face to the room.

His eyes widen dramatically, genuine shock registering across his usually controlled and stoic features. Beside him, Kiriko's expression mirrors her master's surprise as her fox ears perk up sharply.

"Adam Taurus," Hanzo says aloud, his voice carrying disbelief. "A dead man walking among the living. The ghost that Atlas proclaimed destroyed."

I just smirk at that dramatic declaration and pick up the cup, examining the amber liquid for a brief moment before gulping it down in one smooth motion. The taste is rather bitter and strong, with a sharp burn that settles warmly in my chest. Definitely sake, and quality sake at that.

"It seems reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

I can't believe I actually got a real chance to say that line, even if it was changed a little. It feels absurdly satisfying.

Hanzo processes this revelation for a moment, then simply gestures with his own cup in respectful acknowledgment before also gulping down his drink. He sighs deeply, almost wearily, and sets the cup down on the table between us.

"Now everything makes complete sense to me," he breathes, his voice carrying newfound understanding. "Only the son of Ghira Belladonna could be capable of taking down an ancient behemoth in single combat and accomplishing the many other remarkable feats that seemed impossible for any ordinary man, no matter how skilled. The reports I heard seemed exaggerated, but now I see they were simply the truth."

"You knew of my father?" I ask, genuine interest and a touch of pride coloring my tone. Few outside Menagerie speak of Ghira with anything approaching respect rather than contempt and mockery.

Hanzo shakes his head slowly. "Not directly, no. I never had the honor of meeting him in person, though I wished to. I even wanted to extend a formal invitation to him to visit Mistral, to discuss potential cooperation between our peoples. But extreme circumstances prevented that."

He pauses, then continues with clear admiration. "But I've heard many stories from travelers and merchants, and I saw him multiple times in CCT network broadcasts of his achievements and  speeches. His strength of conviction, his ability to lead an oppressed populace to rise up and become powerful enough to stand their ground against kingdoms and corporations, to bring real, lasting change to their circumstances through a true balance between force and peace, diplomacy and war—that is the mark of a true man of honor, a warrior-philosopher deserving of profound respect across all cultures."

His voice carries admiration. "In Mistral, we understand and value the importance of a leader who can unite disparate groups through sheer strength of character and compelling vision rather than just force or wealth. Your father embodied those qualities perfectly. He was an honorable warrior king in its purest form—the way who protects rather than destroys."

I simply nod, feeling that familiar mixture of pride and grief that always accompanies mentions of Ghira. A real father in every way that truly mattered, even if the adoption was born from tragedy.

Then Hanzo's expression darkens considerably, anger flashing across his features. "What a profoundly tragic day for all of Remnant when this world lost such a great and honorable man to the wretched political machinations and corporate greed that plague our kingdoms. The circumstances of his death, the injustice of it, the absolute waste of potential—it disgusts me to my core and offends everything I believe in."

I silently agree with every word, my jaw clenching involuntarily at the painful memory that still feels fresh despite the years that have passed.

Hanzo closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Both of us have lost far too much, Taurus," he begins, his voice taking on a different tone. "We have both lost something profoundly precious to us—our families, our homes, our rightful positions, our sense of place and purpose in this world. And now we find ourselves thrust into positions of leadership we were not truly prepared, trusted and expected to guide our respective people toward a better future despite carrying the crushing weight of that loss every single day."

He pauses, letting that shared truth settle between us. "This is true shared pain, and now we share a drink to properly honor it as tradition demands. But more than anything, I want you to understand clearly that I see you as man to man, heir to heir, leader to leader, warrior to warrior. I sympathize deeply with your burden because I carry a similar one that threatens to break me. I understand your rage and need for justice because it mirrors my own perfectly."

Then he opens his eyes fully and inclines his head in a deep, formal gesture of respect. "I am profoundly thankful for this extraordinary placement of trust you have shown me today by revealing your true identity. It is a gift I do not take lightly, will not waste, and will never betray. You have my word of honor as the last true heir of the Shimada clan."

With that solemn declaration, he performs a deep, formal bow.

I nod in acknowledgment of his words but wave a hand slightly. "There's no need for such excessive formalities with me, Shimada. I'm not one for elaborate ceremonies."

"Yet tradition demands at least this much, Taurus," The heir counters firmly but not unkindly, straightening from his posture. "Especially when trust of this magnitude and risk is offered so freely. To do less would be to dishonor the gesture and insult what you've given me. I will not do that."

I can see there's no point arguing with him about this particular point of honor and tradition. 

"So," I say, leaning back slightly. "Are you now willing to share the story of your brother? The disagreement that created such a rift between you?"

Hanzo looks toward Kiriko with a subtle gesture, and she immediately moves forward with the sake flask to pour another generous measure into each cup. He picks up his cup carefully, studying its content for a long moment.

"Before I share the painful truth of my brother's betrayal and the shame he brought to our clan," he starts slowly, "let me first tell you an old legend from our homeland. A parable that all Shimada children learn from their earliest years. The tale of the twin dragons—the Dragon of Light and the Dragon of Darkness—who once ruled in perfect harmony over the lands and brought prosperity to all who dwelled beneath their protection, but who eventually could not see past their own rigid perspectives to understand each other's different path toward the same goal."

He pauses, meeting my gaze. "From discussion it becomes quarrels, from quarrels it leads to battles and from battlers it leads to a war that nearly destroys everything they both sought to protect."

I simply pick up my own cup and settle into a more comfortable position, prepared to listen to whatever parable or historical lesson the man feels necessary to properly frame and contextualize his tale.

This is clearly important to him, and if sharing this legend helps him open up about his brother, then I'll give him that respect.

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I stand on top of the walls, watching as Hanzo departs with the last convoy toward Kagehama. The sun hovers at the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and deep purples as it prepares to surrender to the approaching night. A gentle breeze plays with my hair and face.

I'm left with a lot to think about after Hanzo's extensive family tale.

The story itself was rather similar to versions I'd heard before; the brother dragons locked in eternal conflict over their different philosophies, one eventually killing the other in a terrible battle, only to fall into profound sorrow and crushing regret upon realizing what he'd done. In the traditional tale, the surviving dragon eventually learns to accept what happened, seeks redemption for his actions, and meets his brother—who he believed dead—in human form. Together they walk a new path of understanding, healing old wounds and restoring the natural balance that was shattered by their prideful conflict.

But Hanzo's version was fundamentally different. 

This Hanzo genuinely believes that the only way to restore proper balance to the world is to end what Genji has become—to erase the mistake, the dishonor, the deviation from a sacred tradition that he so strongly upholds. In his rigid worldview, if one Dragon refuses to embrace the other side that gives it meaning and purpose, then the other must consume him entirely to restore order. Hanzo sees himself as the one fated to finish what was started, the one who must make the hard choice.

He believes he must kill his brother—not purely out of personal hatred or petty revenge, but out of a twisted, sincere sense of duty to restore the balance that was lost when Genji chose to forsake their clan's honor and traditional ways.

My gaze drifts upward to the shattered moon hanging above me, that eternal reminder of divine failure.

The tale of the two dragons—it's really just another sanitized retelling of the Brother Gods' conflict, isn't it? A romanticized, palatable version that removes the raw ugliness of the truth.

The reality is that there was no elegant dance, no harmonious balance that naturally and inevitably shattered due to grand philosophical differences. In their petty temper tantrum and sheer spite over a single human woman the God of Darkness shattered the moon in rage. Not some poetic metaphor about balance lost or cosmic necessity—just raw, destructive rage from supposedly divine beings who should have known infinitely better but proved themselves no better than spoiled brats.

It's disappointing, really, to think about the tales, myths, and legends we tell ourselves and teach our children versus the actual messy reality of what happened. We dress up divine temper tantrums and cosmic spite as meaningful life lessons about balance and harmony. We make tragedies sound noble.

Maybe that's what we do with all our painful histories—reshape them into something that feels meaningful, that suggests there was purpose and lesson in the suffering rather than just senseless destruction.

That's the tragic irony that Hanzo cannot or will not see, blinded as he is by overwhelming grief and his rigid adherence to tradition. In seeking to restore balance by destroying his brother, he's literally repeating the very mistake that shattered the moon itself. 

The dragons in the story were never meant to defeat each other in a final, apocalyptic combat. They were meant to coexist despite their differences, to complement rather than destroy, to heal the land together through their combined strengths.

It makes perfect sense now why Kiriko was so visibly distraught and emotionally conflicted the entire time Hanzo was explaining his plans with his brother. She knows the fundamental truth he refuses to acknowledge or accept.

It would probably be ideal to try stopping Hanzo, to convince him there's another way forward before he does something irreversible. But then again, in the original story that I vaguely remember, Hanzo does end up killing Genji—or at least truly believes he has—and Genji only survives by becoming more machine than man.

But from what Hanzo described in bitter detail and I have seen, Genji is already extensively augmented in this version of events, having eagerly embraced invasive cybernetic modifications and technological enhancements. The easy path, the shortcut to power—a choice that Hanzo sees as abandoning their heritage and everything the Shimada stood for.

Strength must be earned through discipline and training, not bought with technology and surgery. Borrowed strength is a coward's way out, a rejection of the path of true warriors.

It's certainly a complex situation to contemplate.

But I do want Hanzo's support and cooperation for the future and that relationship necessarily includes maintaining good standing with the Spider clan as well. Alienating Hanzo over his internal family matters and personal vendetta would be foolish.

Overall, it was a very interesting and revealing conversation with the exiled clan heir. One that showed both his tremendous potential as a valuable ally and his fundamental flaws as a person.

But I would definitely like to share another drink with him in the future. The man is a fantastic storyteller.

"Adam, we're almost done with our preparations to depart," Ilia's familiar voice speaks up from behind me, breaking my contemplation. "They should be ready to leave by first light tomorrow morning."

I turn around to face her, a slight smile crossing my features. "That's good to hear, excellent work. But there's something missing, though."

Ilia tilts her head, furrowing her brow in confusion. "What do you mean? I checked the inventory lists myself multiple times, everything should be-."

I move in smoothly and capture her lips in a quick, affectionate kiss, cutting off her concerns entirely causing her to freeze.

When I pull back, Ilia's cute spots have turned bright pink, and she's smiling in that silly, adorable way while scratching her cheek in embarrassment. "Yeah, we definitely forgot that small but very important detail," she admits softly. Then she moves forward to give me a gentle peck in return. "Critical oversight on my part, but now it has been fixed."

"Come on," I say, turning back toward the settlement. "We still have some work left to finish before we can rest."

However, before I can take more than a single step, Ilia suddenly lunges forward and wraps her arms around me from behind in a tight hug, her face pressing firmly against my back and her fingers clutching at my jacket.

"Ilia?" I call out, surprised by the sudden display.

There's a long pause, and I can feel her taking a shaky breath against my back.

"Can... can you spend the night with me?" 

Ah.

Isn’t that a little too… direct?

But…

I quickly turn around and pick her up in bridal style and take her away.

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AN: You know what happens next....