"WELCOME TO SMOKEBUSH HOLLOW," the banner read, letters uneven, some tilted sideways like they'd gotten drunk halfway through.
Zassō squinted at it from his perch on a mossy stump, pipe balanced in his lips.
"Mm," he muttered, smoke puffing lazily from his nose. "Coulda been straighter. Coulda been sharper. Ehh? Still beats the shit outta that sign Pebble made last season. 'HOLLOW OR BUST.' Real official. Real inspiring."
The arch creaked as if agreeing.
Behind him, the Hollow buzzed with its slow, smoky rhythm. stoneworkers hammered clay pipes into place for the new bathhouse, while Rootless kids painted spirals on the walls with powdered moss. Women gathered fog-drip from the bark for drinking water. Somewhere, Chime was already drumming, like sunrise itself needed percussion.
Zassō tapped his pipe against the stump, grinning.
"One year, Treeface. One year and a-half since the smoke thinned, and now look at us. Got ourselves houses, a pipeline, a bathhouse that don't leak rainwater down your crack, and a whole damn clan of blood-eyed folks who actually do their chores. Hah."
A shadow moved in the mist at the arch. Zassō didn't bother reaching for a weapon. Only one person walked like that head bowed, one shoulder drooping, the gait of a man who carried both a blade.
Ko stepped through the fog, his cloak ragged, his hair matted to his face. His right arm was bound in dirty bandages. A bottle clinked at his hip when he walked.
"Ko, you scruffy bastard!" Zassō called, raising both arms like a festival host. "Welcome back to paradise. You bring us news, or just that sour face?"
Ko didn't bother with pleasantries
Ko stopped under the arch, squinting up at the sign. His lip curled. "someone vandaliz-."
"Hey," Zassō chuckled, pipe bobbing. "That's cultural design. Gives character."
Ko didn't respond. He walked forward, boots crunching on moss. A few Chinoike guards tensed at the sight of a stranger, but when they saw it was him, they relaxed. Ko had been drifting in and out all year.
Reika herself appeared from the inner path, Hana at her side. Reika's steel fan rested folded against her shoulder, her eyes cool and assessing. Hana's gaze was fixed on Ko like she could peel him open with a glance.
"You return," Reika said. Not unkindly. Not warmly either.
Ko exhaled through his nose. "What else is left for me? Kuzu clan's gone. The Daimyō's banners wiped us out six months back. Only reason I'm still breathing is I was scouting too far from camp when it happened."
The words hung in the air like a thick veil of fog
Even Zassō, who rarely let the weight of silence sit, didn't cut in at first.
Finally, he puffed a slow ring of smoke. "Sorry, man. Ain't easy to bury a whole clan in your chest."
Ko's jaw twitched. His eyes were red, but not from tears. From travel, from exhaustion, from staring too long at things burning.
Reika's gaze softened just a little. "You may stay here. For as long as you need."
Ko grunted. "Not here to beg for a roof. I've got news. From outside."
That got everyone's attention.
Ko dropped onto a stone bench, pulled the cork from his bottle, and took a swig before speaking.
"The Senju compound was attacked. Hagoromo clan raiders, from the north side. Slipped through the forests and struck hard. Fire and steel."
A ripple moved through the gathered crowd. Even the fog seemed to hush.
Ko went on, voice gravelly. "Tsukiyama Senju wife of Butsuma Senju, she didn't survive. Died shortly after giving birth to her son. Kawarama, they named him."
Zassō tilted his head. "So the Senju got bloodied, huh? That's rare. Usually it's the Uchiha and Senju stompin' on everyone else."
Ko's eyes narrowed. "The world's shifting. Every clan's drawing blood somewhere. My clan's gone. The Hagoromo are bold enough to strike at the Senju in their own stronghold. Uchiha are watching both sides like vultures. Even the Kazan clan is under pressure from the Daimyō's northern levy."
Reika's fingers tightened around her fan. "The Kazan…" she murmured. Her clan. Her blood.
Zassō puffed smoke, nodding slowly. "Sounds like the world outside's still eatin' itself raw. Good thing we're sittin' here, smokin' our mushrooms, buildin' our future."
Ko shot him a glare. "You think hiding in mist makes you untouchable? The wars won't skip this valley forever. One day the fire spreads."
"True-true," Zassō said easily. "But today ain't that day. Today we got soup cookin'. And you got a bed if you want it. Not much more to worry about than that."
Ko stared at him for a long moment. Then, finally, he let out a harsh breath, halfway to a laugh, halfway to a sob.
Reika stepped closer. "Stay, Ko. Whatever else you've lost, you are not clanless here."
Ko didn't answer right away.
"I'll take that bed you offered, Zassō," he muttered. "My legs aren't fit to carry me further tonight."
Zassō waved his pipe lazily. "East side hut, near the big rock shaped like a pig's ass. Smells like mushrooms but the roof don't leak. Best bargain in the Hollow."
Ko didn't even crack a smile. He adjusted the bottle at his hip and stalked off into the fog.
Hana watched him vanish down the path, her fingers still curled near where his hand had been. The mist swallowed him quickly, leaving only the faint crunch of moss underfoot.
Reika exhaled, folding her steel fan shut with a quiet clack. "He's broken," she murmured. "Men like that… they either mend or they rot."
Hana glanced up at her. "And you think he'll rot?"
Reika shook her head once, slow. "I think the fate will test him. One way or another."
They turned down the inner trail together. The mist curled low, tugging at their robes. Lanterns hung from bent branches, glowing soft amber where the Rootless had strung them with vine-twine. The air smelled of damp bark and woodsmoke.
Hana walked in silence for a while, then said softly, "It's strange. The Hollow feels safe, but every time someone new arrives, the mist changes. Did you feel it?"
Reika's brow furrowed. "The air thickened, yes. Like a curtain closing."
Hana touched a tree as they passed, her palm resting on its moss. "Sometimes I wonder if the Hollow itself is alive. Watching us. Choosing who belongs."
Reika gave her a sidelong look. "That's Rootless talk."
A faint smile tugged at Hana's lips. "Maybe I've been listening too long."
They passed a cluster of children playing with painted stones, arranging them in spirals on the dirt. One little boy with the Ketsuryūgan flickered faint traces of chakra between his palms, trying to copy what he'd seen older shinobi do. The others laughed when the spark fizzled.
Hana slowed, watching them. Her voice lowered. "I keep thinking of what Ko said. The Senju attacked, the Hagoromo, his own clan wiped out… The world outside is fire a hell. Yet here…"
"Here," Reika finished for her, "we build our future."
Her tone was not mocking. Just matter-of-fact.
Hana looked at her sharply. "Do you think it's foolish? What Zassō is building?"
Reika was silent for several steps. Lantern-light slid across her face, shadowing her eyes.
Finally, she said, "When my father sent me to marry into the Chinoike, he told me the Kazan would one day need every tie, every alliance, every foothold in the world. I thought it was politics. Survival. But now… seeing this…"
She gestured toward the settlement ahead, crooked houses rising from the fog, clay-pipe lines feeding into the new bathhouse, the slow, steady labor of people who had nothing left but each other.
"…I wonder if it was more than that. Perhaps the clans will tear each other apart until nothing remains. And only places like this will endure."
Hana tilted her head. "Then you believe in it. In the Hollow."
Reika gave a small, almost reluctant smile. "I believe in what my eyes see. People working together, without blood-feud or daimyo order binding them. That is rare."
They walked in silence again, the drumbeat of Chime echoing faintly from deeper within, slow and steady like a heartbeat.
After a while, Hana spoke again, her voice softer, almost confessional. "When Ko spoke of his clan dying… I thought of my father. Of how close we were to that fate. One wrong step, and the Chinoike would have vanished too."
Reika stopped. Turned. Looked at her.
"And yet," Reika said, voice firm, "you are still here. We are still here. That is not chance. That is choice."
Hana's eyes shone faintly red in the lantern glow. "Do you ever worry it will find us again? The fire? The wars?"
Reika unfolded her fan with a soft shff. She tapped it against her shoulder, gazing back toward the mist where Ko had disappeared.
"Worry?" she said. "No. Expect? Always."
Hana lowered her gaze. "Then maybe that's why Zassō keeps building. Not because he thinks the fire won't come, but because he knows it will."
Reika chuckled, a dry sound. "You sound like him."
"Do I?" Hana smiled faintly. "Then maybe the smoke's finally getting to me."
Reika shook her head, but her lips curved just slightly as they resumed walking.