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Shinobu never imagined her business management credentials would be mostly put to use improving public relations for a ragtag street gang, but here she is again, doing damage control. Ever since she donned her trademark mask, Shinobu has been locally famous as the oni deputy. Her reputation spread through the city like wildfire. People know who she is for more than just her clan name. Having that kind of clout is rather useful when it comes to her frequent visits to the Police Station.
It doesn't hurt to have Madam Kujou on her side, either. Doushin Uesugi shakes his head as he reluctantly leads Shinobu down a familiar hallway to a familiar prison cell, housing a familiar face.
Shinobu's foot taps in impatience as Itto grins from ear to ear. The clacking of her sandals on stone tiles echoes down the long, lonely corridor.
“Why are you smiling, idiot,” Shinobu grouses. “Between you and the guys, bail is going to empty our coffers completely. And if you don't show up to your court date, we won't get a single Mora back, so you'd damn sure better not forget about it.”
“Whoa, there, have mercy! I was just, uhhh, thinking about how grateful I am to know you, uhh, little buddy,” Itto tries, shuffling up to the iron bars separating them. His wild hair is a tousled mess from sleeping at an odd angle, and the dark circles under his bleary eyes betray just how restful that night was.
“Gross,” Shinobu objects.
“I must be lucky, y'know?” Itto plows blithely on, digging himself deeper with every word. “Sleeping with a roof over my head and a warm meal in my belly, that melon salesman didn't even charge me for midnight snacks, and look who's here to pick me up in the morning! My second-in-command, my right-hand partner! You're a sight for sore eyes, Shinobu!”
“Hmph,” Shinobu snorts, cracking her knuckles. “Flattery won't save you. You're lucky Granny Oni contacted me about the Blue Oni situation so I could help.”
“Ahaha, yeah, about that,” Itto laughs unconvincingly, scratching the back of his neck. “So, uhh, how's... y'know, is Takuya...?”
“He's not eligible for bail,” Shinobu says simply.
Itto's shoulders sag in disappointment.
Uesugi finally unlocks the cell door. Itto quickly draws himself up to his full height, towering a head and a half over both humans. His horns scrape the ceiling, making him snort out a laugh at the ugly noise. The Doushin scurries further down the hall with the ring of keys, avoiding eye contact.
“C'mon, quick, quick, let's get the boys,” Itto says with forced cheer, clapping Shinobu painfully on the back to usher her onward. “I wanna get out of here! Taste the breeze, feel the sunlight again, you know what I'm talkin' about!”
She nearly topples over from the casual strength of his blow, and shoots him a glare.
“...You don't have to fake it, you know,” Shinobu mutters, rubbing her sore back. “Not with me.”
“A real man puts sorrow behind him, and smiles brightly for the world to see,” Itto proclaims loudly, like he's trying to convince himself as much as Shinobu. It sounds like the sort of motivational slogan he'll end up graffitiing on the city message boards the next time Shinobu is distracted. “Even when the world isn't being fair, and, and you hope things might have turned out different, well, that's... that's exactly when you need to smile the most, y'know?”
Shinobu hesitates.
Itto tries too hard, always. His open sincerity can be frustrating to watch. He's the opposite of her. Ever since she was small, Shinobu kept her emotions guarded close to her chest, where they had to be pried away from her by force. A punch on the shoulder or a kick on the shin was usually her most affectionate gesture, and even that required a certain level of trust.
Before she can change her mind, Shinobu throws her arms around Itto's bare waist and gives him a brisk, businesslike hug.
Itto was in real danger this time. He could have died. This is the closest she can bring herself to telling him that scared her.
She doesn't get the chance to make a clean escape. Itto's thick arms crush her small body against his chest, nearly smothering her in his brand of enthusiastic affection. Shinobu realizes dazedly, as her feet leave the ground and she's hugged so tightly that her spine is in danger of snapping like a twig, that no one in all of Teyvat has ever been quite so happy to see her before.
To him, Shinobu is irreplaceable. One and only, never second best.
“I'm bored. I wanna play.”
“Well, you can't because Yae's mine and I said no! Stop following me!”
“That's not fair. I'm telling Mama.”
“No, no, don't! She'll get mad and take Yae away! Is that what you want?”
“I don't care. I'm telling.”
“Ughh! Okay, fine, we can share. But she's still mine, so only I can do her voice. Happy now?”
“Mm.”
The sisters crouch over the threadbare fox doll, muddy knees close to their chests, and are soon absorbed in some game involving an army of pinecones as encroaching youkai. Tall trees sway in the mountain breeze, rustling branches providing a backdrop for their chatter.
Shinobu got their mother's eyes and green hair, all of her obstinance, and none of her approval. She is a quiet child, unusually serious and observant, and rarely smiles. By contrast, Miyuki echoes the fading memory of their father, fourth son of a branch family of samurai. She has his same high cheekbones, straight dark hair, and ingrained desire to please. Shinobu obediently tries to imitate Miyuki and her winning smile, but her older sister is always two steps, two years, ahead of her.
Every shrine visit since her first Shichi-Go-San, Miyuki drags her pink fox toy along with her, and boasts loudly that she will be the kitsune's bride one day. Shinobu does not share her sister's lofty aspirations for the future. She just wants everything her sister has, including her toys. She follows Miyuki everywhere as her determined little shadow.
“That's enough fooling around. You'll get your clothes dirty,” their mother calls sternly from inside the house. Both girls snap to attention. “Come back inside and practice writing.”
“Yes, Mama,” they dutifully chorus, abandoning the fox toy in the muddy yard.
With tradition comes honor. With honor comes expectation. It is traditionally the women who inherit the Kuki name and serve the Grand Narukami Shrine, their matriarchy unusual amongst the old clans of Inazuma. The girls were told their father fell prey to nobushi on the road shortly after Shinobu's birth, and died an honorable death; in truth, he deserted the clan when he grew disillusioned by his low status in comparison to his wife and daughters.
They'll never know the shameful truth – only the invisible pressure to make up for it.
The sisters huddle over their parchment and practice brush strokes with clumsy, ink-stained hands. Miyuki can already read kanji. There's even a few she can write to their mother's satisfaction. Shinobu must catch up.
Miyuki soaks up all the praise she can earn, smiles bright as the sun when she gets what she wants, and leaves Shinobu to quietly envy her competence. Shinobu works hard to catch up by herself, to memorize prayers and observe rites and learn the steps to dances, but she can never close the gap between them.
Second best tastes more sour the longer it sits on her tongue.
“Hahahaha! Of course you can stay!” Itto beams, fangs flashing in the sunlight as he tips his head back and laughs. “In our gang, we're proud to welcome anyone who's been through adversity with open arms! Outcasts, misfits, that's what we all are! You'll be one of the boys in no time! But, uhh, one teensy little request...”
“You want me to teach them how to fight?”
The day Shinobu meets the infamous Arataki Gang face-to-face for the first time, she isn't quite sure what to make of them. She can't say she's impressed.
“Please,” Itto adds as an afterthought, clapping his hands together to beg. “I've already taught them everything I know! Which is, of course, plenty, but uhh, a new perspective is always a welcome addition! Yeah!”
Shinobu cracks her knuckles, looks skeptically at a trio of bruised faces and bloody noses. Akira, Genta, and Mamoru don't have Visions like she and Itto do. They don't have any kind of weapons training or martial arts background. They don't have any kind of aptitude at all, to be blunt. She could have given up this job as a lost cause, moved on to a gig with a fatter paycheck, and forgotten all about these pathetic men.
Plus she doesn't really have the patience to be a teacher.
(A kind teacher like Yanfei, anyway. She remembers Guuji Yae's lightning with a shudder, and what a powerful motivator fear can be.)
She decides, instead, that she can't turn down a good challenge.
“Keep your thumb outside your fist, and keep your wrist firm when you throw a punch,” Shinobu snaps, cracking Genta upside the head and making him see stars. “Otherwise you risk damaging your bones!”
“Yes, Shinobu!”
“Stay light on your feet! You should always be on the balls of your feet,” Shinobu reprimands. Her sweeping kick knocks a wheezing Mamoru onto his knees. “Put too much weight on the front foot, and you'll take too long to move out of the way!”
“Yes, Shinobu!”
“Stay in control of your breathing! When you throw a punch, breathe out! Step back, breathe in!” Shinobu's elbow connects with Akira's nose with a wet crunch, sending him reeling. “Improper breathing will ruin your endurance and cause you to make mistakes, so pay attention!”
“Yes, Shinobu!”
Again and again, she knocks them down, and every time, they scramble back up again for more punishment. Itto shouts boisterous encouragement from the sidelines, pumping his fist and firing up their warrior's spirit. They're either eternal optimists or complete idiots, she decides, watching their sweaty faces swell to unrecognizable shapes with the bruises she doles out like gifts.
Finally she scrapes the sweat off her own brow with her forearm, smearing her makeup in the process, and calls: “Catch!”
An exhausted Genta fumbles with the small container she lobs at his chest, but doesn't drop it. Akira and Mamoru crowd closer to see what it is.
“It's a healing salve I made,” Shinobu explains, after taking a long swig from her water bottle. “Mountain thorns have paralytic properties, but in small doses, the numbing agent is an effective topical painkiller. Let me know when you're ready for round two.”
“Yes, Shinobu!”
Lifting weights and sparring with the gang, dragging them on early morning runs on the beach, making them challenge her to earn childish rewards like snacks and toys – Shinobu feels powerful. Confident. The role of fierce instructor isn't one she dislikes after all, not when they clamor for her orders and treat her with such awed respect. They're never able to best her, even three-on-one.
Only Itto and Ushi can give her a run for her money, and even then, it's a simple game to outwit them.
Shinobu has never been “one of the boys” before. She thinks she likes the sound of that.
Two bows to show respect. Two claps to ward off evil.
Shinobu stands beside her mother in front of the timeworn local shrine, their palms pressed together in silent prayer to the Almighty Narukami Ogosho, God of Thunder. In the chilly pre-dawn air, her breath becomes a wreath of white clouds.
The lit incense tickles her pink nose and threatens to make her sneeze. Shinobu's solemn face twists into a grimace as she fights it off.
At ten, Kuki daughters are sent away from their remote forest village to live and train on Mt. Yougou. So it has been for every generation prior, and so it is for Miyuki and Shinobu. When her sister is shipped off to the shrine to begin her training in earnest, Shinobu becomes her official understudy. They pray for Miyuki's safe journey and success in service. It will be Shinobu's turn to submit to Guuji Yae soon enough.
(And now she's old enough to ask: why? She didn't choose her family. She didn't choose her gender. Why does she have to do everything the same as Miyuki?)
Shinobu fidgets in the winter cold, and chances opening her eyes to see if her mother's eyes are still closed. They are. Quickly she raises her numb hands to rub her nose and stave off the sneeze that was sure to disturb the silence.
“Hold still, Shinobu. You're being disrespectful,” her mother mutters, not even needing to look.
“Why is it disrespectful to move?” Shinobu counters, though she dutifully presses her palms together again, right slightly below left as she was taught. “Her Excellency can hear our prayers wherever we are, even if we're moving, can't She? And why do we have to be up so early–”
“Obedience is a virtue,” her mother cuts her off primly. “You'd do well to remember that instead of questioning me all the time.”
Shinobu bows in thanks to the shrine, then settles into a sulky silence.
Two years without Miyuki around to constantly outshine her will earn Shinobu no favor with their mother, not when she questions rules instead of following them blindly like a good daughter. Like Miyuki. Shinobu's cardinal sin is thinking too much.
“This is the way things have always been done,” her mother lectures as they walk through the pines on their way home, snow crunching beneath their boots. “Why must you be so stubborn about everything? Your sister never complained this much, you know.”
She keeps her mouth shut this time. Shinobu finds newer, faster ways to do things with less effort, and then gets scolded for taking shortcuts. She itches to learn new things, as the constant repetition bores her to tears. Shinobu always wants to know why.
There's never a satisfactory answer.
The city streets outside the window are quieter at this early hour. Shinobu arrives at the artist studio that Itto's friend Yoimiya recommended to her right as they open for business, prompt as usual.
The interior is just a single chamber, sparsely furnished, with a beautifully painted screen erected for privacy. Shinobu sheds all but her undergarments and lays face down on the futon as instructed, arms folded beneath her head. Her bare back becomes the horishi's blank canvas.
Pinprick by pinprick, the tattoo needle travels in a slow but inexorable arc down her sides, dotting her skin with color. The symmetrical pattern inspired by a Naku weed chain swirls from the edge of her ribs over the curve of her hip on each side, landing on her upper thigh before reaching its termination.
Each individual sting of the needle is bearable on its own. It only lasts a moment. The anticipation of the next insertion, the automatic tensing of her muscles against it, the throb of the inflamed skin in its wake growing so hot it burns – that is what has Shinobu gritting her teeth in stoic silence. She thought she could read her book to pass the time, but the growing pain soon proves too distracting to focus on anything else.
If she is stubborn enough to endure this, she can survive anything.
Through the window, the sun crawls sluggishly across the sky, marking the passage of hours. The only breaks in the pain are when the horishi pauses every so often to mix another batch of ink, or to towel away her sweat and blood. Shinobu's breathing grows ragged as the initial adrenaline wears off and exhaustion sets in.
“What kind of certification is required to perform irezumi?” Shinobu asks just to fill the silence, the first words she's spoken in hours. “Is there a school, or...?”
The horishi smiles wryly. “It's an apprenticeship. A long one.”
“Pity.” Shinobu purses her lips. “I was thinking about how my Vision could be utilized to speed the process. It would require precision, but with refinement, it could be revolutionary.”
“...Electric needles?” The horishi whistles. “Sounds terrifying. I'll stick with the traditional way, myself.”
Shinobu grunts. If a more efficient way exists, then she sees no need to cling to outdated tradition. This ordeal, however, serves its own purpose.
She chose this for herself, and she will be stronger for it.
When the blood red sun is at long last setting below the waves, Shinobu walks proudly across the beach to join the gang at their bonfire. She's grateful for her mask hiding the wince she makes as she sits down. The fabric of her shorts scraping against freshly tattooed skin is like the touch of a branding iron.
“Whoaaa, check it out,” Genta crows, while Mamoru lets out a wolf whistle. “Sick tattoo, Shinobu!”
“My folks would disown me if I ever showed up with a tattoo,” Akira blusters. “Otherwise I'd totally get one too!”
Ushi moos sarcastically, and Shinobu snorts. There's a reason she chose a placement she can easily cover with more modest clothing, should she ever decide to visit her family.
“Sooo, what brought this on, Shinobu?” Itto asks, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. He puffs his bare chest, jabbing a claw at the crimson markings there that denote his proud oni heritage. “Mayhaps you were so inspired by a certain someone – or should I say, some-oni – yowch, okay, that stings, not gonna lie.”
Shinobu lets go of his ear and crosses her arms defensively. “It may be difficult for you to comprehend, but not everything in this world revolves around you, dumbass,” she huffs. “I... did this to make my body my own.”
Shinobu doesn't bother to explain further. They don't know her past, and she doesn't expect the gang to understand how long it's taken her to become the person she is now. All that matters is that they accept her as she is. And they invariably do.
Itto lands his broad hand against her back, slightly less bruising than his usual, and yanks her into an affectionate side hug. She squirms to evade his knuckles on her scalp, but his arm strength is beyond humanly possible. Soon her hair is falling out of its ties, mussed up beyond salvation, and she glares daggers up at him.
“That's... awesome. You're so cool, Shinobu! You don't let anyone tell you what to do,” Itto proclaims, and offers her the warmest smile she thinks she's ever seen directed at her. Shinobu ceases to struggle as Itto, increasingly excited, bellows over the sound of the tide. “Yeah! You're like, the strongest bro I know! Well, excluding yours truly, of course. Together we're the mightiest duo in the whole friggin' world, baby! Woo-haha! Better watch out, world! We're coming for ya, two peas in a pod, birds of a feather!”
The others, like a pack of barking dogs, join in his noisemaking just to be included. They soon forget what they were yelling about in the first place, and it devolves into a contest as to who can throw a rock into the sea and make the biggest splash. As Itto hoists a small boulder over his shoulders to outdo the humans, Shinobu rolls her eyes.
They're all idiots. But they have good hearts, every one of them, and they're quick to forgive blacked eyes and skinned knees when they join around the bonfire and call her one of them. She wouldn't choose to be anywhere else but here.
By the time it's her turn to don the familiar white robe and scarlet hakama that Miyuki so proudly donned first, Shinobu has learned to keep her skepticism to herself. More rules, more traditions, more of the same. The monotony is mind-numbing, but at least she knows what to expect when she's on sweeping duty or working the entrance.
She can handle the job. It's the environment that chafes at her like a ring of thorns against the skin, rubbing her raw.
Shinobu immediately dislikes the way Guuji Yae teases her every time she receives a letter of complaint about not being friendly enough. She prefers not to mingle with the other shrine maidens and kogitsune, who are already all Miyuki's friends. She doesn't like to tell their visitors useless platitudes about all their troubles vanishing if they pull the right fortune slip.
She's uncomfortable with her own changing reflection in the water of the chouzubachi, growing more every day into a new shape she's not sure she likes.
Nothing here seems to fit her right. Maybe she's the problem.
Shinobu eats her plain rice alone, deals with colds and scraped knees and menses on her own, and soldiers on through the years of her adolescence in determined silence. At least Guuji Yae lets her borrow some of her many books in her downtime. Reading becomes her escape.
“Always with the frown, little one,” Yae coos one morning during breakfast, catching her by the chin when she least expects it. Shinobu tries not to flinch. She still drops her chopsticks with a clatter as Yae leans in close to her ear. “You got another complaint. You'll have an easier time if you learn to smile. Just watch how your sister charms the others and you'll soon catch my meaning.”
“Yes, Lady Guuji.”
She agrees easily, but glares in sullen defiance. Shinobu does not idolize the kitsune the way her smitten sister does.
Yae chuckles at her attitude, inhuman eyes sharpening into knowing slits. She lets go, and those elegant claws vanish back into her long sleeves like they never existed.
“You're just like your mother was at your age. Listen well. You'll attract more ants with sweet things than sour,” Yae remarks as she saunters gracefully away from her pupil. “Of course, if sweet things aren't enough of a motivator, there are always other ways to get what you want out of insects beneath you.”
Out of the clear blue sky, a bolt of lightning drops to strike the stone pathway in her footsteps.
Shinobu jumps at the violent clap of thunder, pupils blown wide. Her heart is in her throat. A flock of crows are startled into clamoring flight from the nearby sakura trees, and wing off noisily, cawing their displeasure.
Yae continues to giggle to herself, raising her sleeve to hide her smirk as she glances back over her shoulder. “You have much to learn, child.”
Trembling like a leaf, Shinobu bows her head, and bites her tongue.
She learned from her mother's cutting words not to ask questions of her elders. She finds her answers in books instead.
The glimmering reflections of the stars sparkle like jewels studding the black tides of the night sea. Amakane Island is remote enough that Shinobu encounters no one on her return trip, laden with a heavy pack of groceries and medical supplies from the market.
It's almost unsettling how peaceful it is. Shinobu isn't accustomed to quiet, not anymore.
It took her longer than she would have liked to get back here. First she was hand distributing flyers for the Almighty Arataki Great and Glorious Drumalong Festival (which was supposedly also her graduation party), then she got caught up buying dango for the sullen kids who forfeited their snacks to the gang earlier that week, then she got roped into settling a dispute between a tourist from Liyue and an Inazuman vendor... so it goes. She's popular these days.
Hopefully no one has been arrested in her absence.
The guys aren't on the beach, or anywhere to be found. The bonfire is still going, so Shinobu dutifully drops her pack beside Ms. Hina, and sets up a few fruit and vegetable skewers to start roasting. They're sure to be ravenous. Not one of those fully grown men can manage to cook for themselves.
Shinobu then turns her attention on the stack of crates that serves as their reception desk. The Kamisato clan head and his retainer delivered gifts of trading cards and live onikabuto while she was out. Curious, Shinobu opens the fancy beetle box to check on them.
She raises an eyebrow at the pair of large, glossy beetles, nested in a thoughtful mixture of leaves and moist loam. They look to be quite valuable. Captive bred onikabuto tend to be larger and healthier than wild ones anyway, but these look more like the variants with unusual markings and extra large horns that collectors raise as pets, not the ones kids can afford with their allowances. It's a generous present, one that's probably wasted on those dolts.
Shinobu settles cross-legged by the stack of crates, and procures her spoon and jar of beetle jelly from the market to feed them. She's learned a lot about insect rearing since joining the gang, and now has contacts in the business. The breeder she deals with makes the jelly blend herself out of sunsettia, lavender melon, and banana, and assures Shinobu that the vitamins it's fortified with make it worth the extra Mora.
(Shinobu figures it's probably more cost effective in the long term to budget for the good beetle jelly than it is to organize beetle funerals for a grief-stricken Itto and whatever local children he stole them from.)
The big onikabuto happily cluster around the spoon and nibble on the fruit. Shinobu watches them thoughtfully, and wonders if Itto has named them yet.
The crack of a twig behind her. A muffled moo. Shinobu breathes a sigh of relief, and lets go of her sword hilt.
“Surpriiiise!”
Genta, Mamoru, and Akira are awkwardly holding a sloppily hand painted banner reading 'Congratulations Shinobu!!', while Itto bangs vigorously on his drum in time with Ushi's swaying dance. Shinobu snorts at the ridiculous sight, replacing the lid on the beetle box and setting them down. The guys didn't forget her graduation after all.
“We wanted to get you a cake, but we already spent all our budget on the decorations,” Mamoru explains sheepishly, gesturing in the direction of Ms. Hina.
“Yeah, but,” Akira butts in, waving an excited hand at Itto. “Look what we chipped in for! Show her, Boss, show her!”
“Catch!” Itto beams as he tosses her a small object wrapped in brightly-colored paper. Shinobu catches it on reflex.
“You paid for this, right?” she asks doubtfully, pinching the ribbon between thumb and forefinger. “You didn't win it in a children's card game or anything?”
“Pshaw! Obviously,” Itto jeers, hands on his hips. At his side, Ushi pops his bovine hips in a similarly sassy gesture. “Who do you take us for? We wanted to congratulate you, and also thank you for all the stuff you do for us! Right, boys?”
“Like bailing us out of jail,” Genta adds helpfully. “And getting the tengu to drop charges.”
“And repairing our clothes when they get ripped,” Mamoru chimes in. “And teaching us how to punch right!”
“And cooking all the grub!” Akira cheers, dropping his end of the banner to make a beeline for the fruit skewers.
“See? Our lives are better with you in them! So c'mon already, open it, open it,” Itto presses, eyes sparkling as bright as the stars above.
Shinobu tears the paper and finds herself holding a bright red omamori. The brocade pouch has a fiercely scowling oni visage and flames stitched into one side, and on the back, the characters for 'success' in a bold, blocky style, surrounded by little skulls.
She blinks at it, momentarily speechless. It's garish. It's so ugly it borders on sacrilegious. She can't imagine Guuji Yae blessing anything oni-related.
“Where on earth did you...”
“Cool, right?” Mamoru brags, “My cousin's neighbor knows a guy whose grandma does custom pouches for cheap.”
“I asked for the manliest one they could do,” Itto grins, flashing her a confident thumbs-up. Ushi wags his tail. “Something like: the best flavor in the world is the sweet, sweet taste of victory! Pain is weakness leaving the body! Keep smiling in the face of danger! Real men don't carry umbrellas! They said something that long wouldn't fit, so, me and the boys decided 'success' was the next best thing.”
“I was only picking up my certificate. I finished classes more than a year ago. You really didn't have to,” Shinobu starts, and then halts.
She can't help it. She passes it off as a cough, but behind her mask, she's trying not to laugh.
“Ohhh, Shinobu! Speechless? Overcome with gratitude? Bring it in! We really are amazing, I know,” Itto babbles. He lunges for the bear hug, but Shinobu easily ducks under the circle of his arms and dances out of reach. “You deserve the best! When you're part of the Arataki Gang, you're part of the family!”
“Mm. That's right,” Shinobu agrees. “Then let's eat.”
She tucks the cursed object into her pocket, alongside the faded old omamori she's never bothered to replace. They want to celebrate her accomplishments with her. They want to recognize how hard she works, and cheer her on to new heights. That's what a family does. She slips her mask off and moves to sit by the warmth of the fire with everyone.
When Itto flops down on a rock beside her, Shinobu leans over and gives him a friendly punch on the arm. He punches her back twice as hard, big dumb face wreathed in smiles.
“Still reading, Shinobu? You should keep your nose out of those books and start taking my advice. You have a perfectly good career lined up for you at the shrine, so focus your energy on that. You are a Chokkai now like Miyuki, but with an attitude adjustment, you could reach Seikai...”
When next she visits home, Shinobu scarcely looks up from the dense textbook she brought with her. Finally, time to read without interruptions – or so she thought. With her increasingly agitated mother looming over her shoulder deciding all her goals for her, the teenager carelessly lets her honest feelings about the shrine slip.
“Mama, I hate the shrine. I can't do it anymore. I want to go to school instead.”
She swallows slowly, realizing what she said, but doesn't backpedal. If Shinobu's time under Guuji Yae's thumb teaches her anything at all, it's that no one should have to owe obedience to anything they didn't choose. Not family. Not even gods. Her mother – pious, proud, stubborn product of every matriarch before her – most certainly does not approve.
“Absolutely not. This is not up for discussion. Do not ask me again.”
How foolish of her to have an opinion of her own. She closes her book, eyes flashing. For once, Shinobu does not bow her head and acquiesce to her mother's demands. Later, she'll wonder if she should have reigned in her temper.
“I wasn't asking. I haven't decided what to major in, but I want to be a student! I'm not a child anymore, so–“
“Shinobu, I already said no! You would abandon your duty to your clan? For what? To get out of hard work? Because you're bored? This isn't about what you want, this is about family! Like it or not, you have responsibilities.”
“Then maybe I don't want to be in this family anymore!”
The sting of her mother's slap fades, but the humiliating memory still smolders beneath her skin. They are both too stubborn to apologize. She'll never know the real reason her mother takes her desertion so personally, the reopening of an old wound – not without ever knowing her father did the same thing, when she was too young to know it was her fault. The words that tore their fraying relationship to ribbons hang over her head like a storm cloud.
Laying in the dark and staring up at the ceiling, Shinobu tells her softly weeping sister that she's planning to run away from home. Miyuki doesn't know whose side to take. She just wants things to stay the same as they always have, and that's no longer possible.
Shinobu doesn't feel the hot, frustrated tears threatening to spill over her own cheeks until she finds the unfamiliar weight of a Vision in her bag. She pulls it out before Miyuki's shocked eyes, and tilts it to cast a violet glow that lights up the corners of their childhood bedroom.
This, this glittering lovely purple gem, is the first milestone she ever reached before her sister did.
It's hers, and hers alone. This is her validation.
Even Almighty Narukami agrees that leaving is the right decision.
“If you need a hero... I'm the man... for the job...”
Itto barely finishes his sentence before he collapses into Shinobu's waiting arms. It takes all of her strength to support his considerable bulk without collapsing herself. Ushi helps her ease Itto's unconscious body safely to the ground, and props his back up against the stones into a seated position.
The nightmarish, labyrinthine depths of the Chasm pushes them all to their limits. The echo of her mother's voice still rings in Shinobu's ears, making her feel like the powerless girl she used to be. Yelan and Xiao snapping on each other was the last straw for Itto's eternal optimism. Damn hotheaded fool, punching a hole through dimensions and giving them the miracle they needed.
Unwanted emotions war deep in Shinobu's tightening chest, threatening to claw up her throat and crack her steady voice as she speaks to the group. Fear wins whenever she has no control over the outcome. She's afraid, but not for herself.
It's just like Itto to give everything he has for others at the cost of himself. Always rushing in, always assuming he'll be strong enough to make it out again. The story Shinobu heard about the Blue Oni, the sacrifice that Itto wouldn't allow Takuya to make – it was just like this, wasn't it? But this time, Shinobu is with him.
She schools her face into a neutral expression, eyes cool, hands unshaking. They will make it out, all of them. She'll make sure of that.
It's Yanfei, kind and clever Yanfei, who casts her Pyro in a protective ring of fire around Shinobu, Itto, and Ushi, sealing them off from whatever dangers she can prevent. Relief lets her tense shoulders go slack. Yanfei has always been able to read her like a book, and know what she needs without her ever saying it.
There was a time in Shinobu's life when she would have followed Yanfei anywhere. It's strange now to see her senpai turn her back, and for Shinobu to let her go.
When the cavern goes silent and they are well and truly alone, Shinobu sinks to the ground beside Itto. She's shivering. Her teeth chatter. The air is like splinters in her lungs, stinging with every gasp as she rips off her mask just to breathe. Ushi presses his stone hide against her for comfort. She rubs the cow's horns as she whispers a futile prayer, over and over, and waits for the wave of panic to subside.
Almighty Narukami can't hear her in these godless depths. No one will save them. They have to save themselves.
Like a stubborn shadow, Shinobu refuses to leave Itto's side, even as the world moves on without her.
With her decision made, Shinobu's narrow world shatters, plunges her into a brilliant kaleidoscope of firsts. She doesn't know where she's going or what she'll do. She studied as many books as she could get her hands on, courtesy of Guuji Yae's publishing house, but she knows nothing of living on the outside. That ignorance fills her to the brim with the excitement of how much she has yet to learn.
Her voyage at sea, the acceptance letter clutched to her chest, and her first glimpse of Liyue's golden coast from the rolling deck of the ship, are her keys to freedom.
The cargo ship docks at the harbor with little fanfare. Shinobu has few belongings and precious little Mora to her name, but the sailors are kind enough to point her toward the Ministry of Civil Affairs to help her fill out her papers and seek lodgings. She could have found work with the crew even without her student visa, but she did not come all this way to settle for menial labor. Only the best will be good enough for her. She's here to learn as much as she can before her academic scholarship runs out.
Shinobu dries the last of her homesick tears on her sleeve, and touches Miyuki's omamori charm in her pocket for good fortune. Then she ties her long, cumbersome hair up and out of the way for the trial that is to come: law school.
She has always been a diligent worker and a quick thinker. Let her wit be her weapon. Let her hone her soft, childish edges against the hardest challenge she can throw herself against, until she is sharp enough to cut with her words alone.
“No tofu, edamame, natto, soy milk, or soy sauce, please. Even if he asks for them. Especially if he asks for them.” Shinobu bows in thanks to the confused nurse, then presses a modest pouch of Mora into her hands. “If I can request those items be temporarily removed from the kitchen, all the better. Bean protein inhaled from cooking fumes may trigger a reaction in sensitive individuals. I assure you, Mr. Arataki is more sensitive than he looks.”
Without waiting for a reply or permission, Shinobu slips into Itto's sickroom and closes the sliding door behind her.
The oni is sprawled on a cot, dozing off with arms dangling off the sides and drool collecting in a puddle on his pillow. Rashes have turned patches of his bare skin an angry red, reddened further by his scratching. His lips and eyes appear swollen to a concerning size, distorting the markings on his face. He's a shadow of his usual animated self, limp and wrung out against the clean white sheets.
Shinobu sighs sharply through her nose and squares her shoulders.
Don't feel sorry for him, he did this to himself.
“New rule,” Shinobu announces loudly, startling Itto into wakefulness. “Never challenge Guuji Yae to a battle of wits when you have no wit to spare.”
“Wh– hey! But my oni pride was on the line! And my pride as a man,” Itto protests, drowsy words slurring together. His hands flop as he waves off her accusation. “That's two against one!”
“You let her rile you up. That's what she does. And you're an idiot for knowing that and still letting her lead you by the nose,” Shinobu counters, arms crossed. “You ate more than thirty bowls of ramen you were allergic to.”
“Hell yeah I did,” Itto boasts, grinning stupidly. “And I crushed it! Call me Arataki 'Eat-oh But Never Taste Defeatto', that's me!”
“Do you feel like a winner right now?” Shinobu rolls her eyes. She clambers into his bed, and seats herself cross-legged near his knees.
He edges sideways to give her the space. “Rather lie in bed a winner than walk away a loser. So there.”
“A victory that ends with you bedridden for weeks isn't much of a victory, jackass.”
“You're little, but you're so mean,” Itto snuffles through a congested nose. His facial swelling has gone down since he was first admitted, but his eyes are still so puffy he can probably barely see her. “It's like all that meanness got squished down into your short little body, and there's no room for niceness anymore because you're like. Full of mean.”
“Shut up,” Shinobu snorts. She shoves a cloth wrapped wooden box at his chest. “Here.”
He fumbles with the wrapping, a goofy smile spreading lopsided across his face when he realizes what it is. “Oh, sweet! Did you bring me food? Hey, is this takeout from Kiminami's? I could kill for yakisoba right now.”
“Not takeout,” Shinobu demurs.
With arms crossed, she studiously avoids his gaze, looking instead to his bedside table. A cheap bouquet of sweet flowers and one unopened booster pack of trading cards were left for him while he slept. She can guess the three names signed on the card.
“You... made me bento? Did you remember to...?”
Shinobu glances back to Itto, mouth set in a stubborn line beneath her mask. “I recently read that other legumes may trigger the same allergic reaction, so I eliminated peanuts, lentils, alfalfa, and clover, as well as the usual beans. Better safe than sorry.”
Itto excitedly rips the top off the box, and pumps his fist in the air when he finds what he's looking for. Clustered next to the pickled vegetables and rice balls are...
“Wahahaha! Octopus wieners! Shinobu!! You're the best!”
Itto cackles like a delighted child as he picks up a sausage between two fingers, and wiggles it to make the eight 'legs' wave back. Shinobu painstakingly cut nori into different exaggerated facial expressions to decorate each of them. Itto draws his eyebrows and makes each face in turn, chortling at the silliness of it all.
Shinobu leans back as she studies him with a critical eye.
He must be in considerable abdominal pain as his system slowly works through the amount of tofu he ingested. He looked pretty bad off when he was sleeping. Still he smiles.
Itto hates to show the world any kind of flaw whatsoever. He insists on proving himself as the best to the point of self destruction, constantly downplays his weaknesses, and shoulders through whatever suffering he must without ever admitting to it.
For all his posturing and braggadocio, Shinobu can't say she's all that different from Itto after all.
Shinobu conquers the winding labyrinth of Liyue's ever-changing legal system with surprising ease. She even has an offer to stay once she graduates.
She does not, however, feel confident that she's found her calling. She picks at her stir-fried filet, chopsticks pushing Jueyun chilies and rice around without settling on a bite. Practicing in Liyue's civil court promises to be the same flavor of drudgery she left the shrine to escape.
“Based on your coursework, I think you'd make an excellent lawyer, personally,” Yanfei smiles over her steaming bowl of crab roe tofu. “Whether here or in Inazuma. You're always thinking, you question everything, and that's one of your best qualities. But you've still got room to grow as a person, so don't feel pressured to settle for the first job you're offered. Keep your options open!”
Unfamiliar with praise, Shinobu's cheeks flush hot. Law school delivers Shinobu her first crush, unrequited and uneventful.
“It's not the cases themselves I have doubts about handling, it's the people,” Shinobu admits after deliberation. She does not like sharing weakness, and studies the table rather than make eye contact. “If it were all clear cut and logical, then every case would be simple. But people are often... difficult. They'd rather you fake a smile and lie than be honest. I don't know how you deal with civil cases so often, senpai.”
“You underestimate how far the right smile can get you,” Yanfei laughs ruefully, rubbing the back of her neck. Her sharp eyes catch Shinobu peeking a glance at her, and crinkle at the edges with amusement. “But! Social skills are exactly that: skills. You practice them like any other skill. You'll learn to read people based on expressions and body language, and get better at knowing what they need. My advice is for you to approach people like you approach a case. Observe first, apply your research, and you'll come to a better understanding of the big picture.”
“Thank you, senpai.”
Clever, kind, and competent: Yanfei doubtlessly read her like an open book, but was too polite to call her on it. Shinobu finally has one thing in common with Miyuki: a hopeless crush on a woman out of her league.
She learns something about herself instead: that kind of commitment reminds her too much of obligation, of expectations, and that she doesn't like to settle on one path if she can explore them all.
Her lunches with Yanfei at Wanmin Restaurant bring Shinobu the decision to study the culinary arts next – and then Chef Mao's fiery daughter inspires her to study martial arts as well. She masters her Vision doing commissions in her evenings, and develops her own practical style of self-defense with a blade, her soft body growing harder and leaner in the process. A transfer to business school, and then tailoring, herbology, management, and more extracurriculars follow in rapid succession.
Meeting students and teachers from every walk of life also leads Shinobu to the first time she considers she might not need a gender at all. She never fit the labels of daughter, sister, maiden. They weren't credentials that meant anything to her anymore.
As she adds more and more titles to her name, Shinobu vows to herself: she will stand on her own two feet, and never owe anyone anything.
When the Sakoku Decree is enacted and her student visa is revoked before graduation, she leaves Liyue and boards the ship bound for Inazuma with her head held high.
The first time Shinobu visits Miyuki since leaving the shrine, she can sense the years between them yawning as wide as the ocean. They're adults now. Strangers, practically. Her sister's dark, glossy hair is longer than it ever used to be. There are crow's feet at the corners of her eyes that Shinobu did not remember ever being present. Peeking out of her flowery drawstring kinchaku is a pair of glasses, just like their mother's.
Shinobu wonders how equally foreign she must look to Miyuki: masked and armed, lean-muscled and tattooed, and finally comfortable enough with her body that she doesn't need to hide it under too many layers of clothing anymore.
“You...” Miyuki dares a step closer, always dogged in pursuit of what she wants. “You finally decided to come back!”
Shinobu shies away from what might have turned into a hug, opting to stand at a wary distance with her arms crossed.
“Sorry, but no. I'm just here to talk. It's... been a long time.”
They settle into an uneasy truce, both of them too cautious to risk closing the distance between them.
Her sister makes a valiant effort to make small talk, and Shinobu meets her halfway where she can. They catch up over news of the war ending: Miyuki's role in cleansing the Sakura trees of Kannazuka, Shinobu's Vision being returned to her by the Tenryou Commission, and so on. For once, her sister's accomplishments do not equal her own inadequacies. There's nothing to compete over now.
But Miyuki, who wants nothing more than to please their mother and make their family whole again, doesn't know how to bring back the little sister she used to know. Shinobu doesn't know how to say I'm not that person anymore without her hearing I left you and your family years ago, and you can't drag me back.
She isn't sure what else she has to say on the matter.
Shinobu considers talking about Liyue and everything she saw while living overseas – rites of worship for Rex Lapis, the opulence and efficiency of the Jade Chamber, larger-than-life adepti like Yanfei and Xiao – but they're all things that Miyuki will likely never see for herself. Lovely stories, but too far removed from herself to be personal.
She can almost hear Itto's raucous voice echoing in her mind: the Arataki Gang is filled with folks who walk the walk and talk the talk! This is her chance to learn from his bravery. Shinobu hesitates, then sucks in a deep breath. She takes her mask off.
She talks about the Arataki Gang.
Miyuki listens as Shinobu talks about catching onikabuto, and roasting lavender melons on the beach, and how no one in the gang will eat beans anymore out of respect for the boss. She goes on about singalongs and card games, the mischief that lands them in hot water with the Tenryou Commission, the drum festival and the by-laws and the sparring and everything else that's a part of Shinobu's life now. It's another world from the one they grew up in, in their remote village surrounded by pines, under the ancient rules of the clan.
When Shinobu pauses for breath, she finds Miyuki's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Her heart sinks. Shinobu goes quiet, and braces herself for another family member's rejection.
“But they're... a gang,” Miyuki protests. “You just admitted they commit crimes. Were you tricked into joining them?”
“No,” Shinobu replies, a little defensively. “I joined of my own free will. I'm still working on how they, uhh, contribute to the community, but... I'm happy there. I'm staying.”
“Oh. Well... I think that makes a little jealous to hear,” Miyuki admits. Her shoulders relax, eyes softening. “You smile when you talk about them, you know.”
“They're my family,” Shinobu says, uncrossing her arms. “The one that chose me.”
She's not ashamed to say that. She's proud. Shinobu squares her shoulders and faces her sister in defiance. She can't help but feel a little vulnerable, too.
Miyuki studies her determined expression for a long moment, then sighs in defeat.
“You're not a child anymore. It's your choice what you decide to do with your life,” Miyuki says, much to Shinobu's surprise. Time apart has matured them both. “If you don't want me to tell Mama about your gang, I won't. I promise.”
“I'm never moving back,” Shinobu reminds her.
“I know,” Miyuki accepts. “But I keep talking to Mama about you, for the day when you're ready to visit. She might not always say the right thing, but, deep down, she worries about you. She still cares. You're not good at understanding each other, but I won't give up on either of you.”
“...Thank you, sis,” Shinobu murmurs.
She touches her pocket, and finds the comforting shape of two omamori with her, always.
Shinobu has never felt more tired than she does on the long walk from Mt. Yougou to Hanamizaka. Seeing Miyuki is emotionally draining. Worthwhile, she thinks, just... not something she wants to do very often. The Vision inlaid on her shoulder armor flashes in response to her will. She is too stubborn to take breaks, no matter how long she travels by herself. She presses on as the sun sets behind her.
She finds the guys loitering behind Naganohara's Fireworks, squatting in a low circle with dumb grins plastered on their faces. She drops down on her haunches to join them, and quirks an eyebrow in silent question. She's too worn out to interrupt their mischief tonight, so she might as well join in. Ushi bumps his head against her thigh, and she absently rubs his nose, eliciting a happy moo.
“Yo, Shinobu! Check it out, Yoimiya's old man gave us free sparklers,” Genta grins, pressing a few of the long, slender wires into her hands.
“Gimme a light, would ya?” Akira demands, nudging his unlit sparkler at Mamoru.
Mamoru obliges, and soon they're both chortling like a couple of kids, watching the bright fire at the tip fizz and spark as it combusts. Shinobu extends her sparkler to catch a light, too, and then observes the resulting chemical reaction with quiet satisfaction.
“Shinobu, you're finally back!” Itto's fanged smile shines brighter than the sparklers. He drops a heavy hand onto her hair and ruffles it into a mess. “Welcome home!”
She glowers at him, fixing her ponytail before anything else. Then she punches him on the arm in retribution, hard as she can muster, making the oni yelp. Under her breath, too low for Itto to catch, Shinobu mutters something that's muffled by her mask. She doesn't care if he can hear.
“...It's good to be home.”