What if Wolf became Shura earlier?
If he became Shura before becoming Kuro’s retainer then it’s likely Owl would have called Isshin to kill his son. And Isshin would more than likely succeed.
At Hirata Estate, if Wolf became Shura during the fire, after Kuro gave him the oath. Unaware of what his shinobi had become. Those three years would be very different, and Wolf would probably be put down with the Black Mortal Blade, or not. He’s still immortal and all his opponents aren’t. All he would have do to was give them enough cuts, deep or shallow, and they would bleed out well before he would ever die.
Then there’s the Black Mortal Blade never being used against him because, why the hell would anyone but Kuro know? At best, they would think his pain tolerance is otherworldly and end up slaughtered scratching their heads wondering why he’s not staying down after a blow to the heart. After a while, I’m sure they would recognize Shura, but only the few that have witnessed it beyond just words on a page and stories around a campfire.
At that point, Isshin would most definitely come out of forced retirement. Perhaps Genichiro had ran into Wolf and was killed, or was sent in the hope his lightning would have some effect on putting the monster down. Maybe Genichiro was never sent at all because Isshin had a hunch and ended up sneaking out because Genichiro wanted to come with him and Isshin couldn’t allow that if he turned out to be right.
I have been dying to write Shura Wolf.
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[SEKIRO] Under the cherry tree
He relives those moments as if they were yesterday, far from a field covered in corpses.
Or, the one where Shura comes back. Written for @ornstein and inspired by @cyber-hamster's art here.
[AO3]
The screams come to an end suddenly.
For the first time in days, Kuro has nothing to hear but his own terrified heartbeat. From the cracked wall that has become his shelter, he listens as silence takes over Ashina, enveloping the land like a shroud.
It cannot mean anything good, his survival instincts suggest. Nothing good has come of the things he has heard and seen since it began.
He must be all there is left to kill.
Feeling more alone than he ever has, Kuro peeks out of his hiding place, trying to suppress the cold shivers this merciless morning is giving him. Destruction greets his sight wherever it rests. Some distant fires still line the mountains, remains of total devastation only a demon can bring.
Even so, he still feels compelled to investigate the stretch of snow ahead of him. Silence may mean a truce, a spark of possibility. He takes a deep breath, and then – like he has been doing for days – he scans the field for a flaming silhouette, drenched in fire and blood from its mindless slaughter.
He knows the time for hope should be long gone. Naive as he may have been, seeing a demon surrounded by corpses has at least taught him that much. But for this, Kuro will not let himself give in as long as he is still alive.
His heart almost jumps out if chest when, against all odds, it actually happens.
Shura is doing nothing but kneeling in the snow, his gaze lost somewhere on the horizon. Vapor rises from his heaving mouth, tinged blood-red by the sunrise.
Though he has to work against his every instinct, Kuro begins making his way toward him.
Terrifying memories crowd his brain with every step. In a daze, his eyes relive the horrors of that night – the blood all over the ground, the blood from Genichiro’s severed head, spilling on his fingers and his body and him.
Kuro does his best to chase the images away, focusing instead on what he tried to do. Calling his name certainly did no good. Begging him to remember did not stop him from drawing the Mortal Blade. In the end, when raw fear pushed him to run for his life, Kuro was still pleading in his heart.
All for nothing it was, and maybe it will be.
But today, after all he has been through, he cannot afford to hesitate.
Though his heart is petrified with grief, Kuro keeps moving, approaching Shura from behind as cautiously as he can. His mind races through possibilities, fears, horrors. The shape of the Mortal Blade still looms at his back. Countless times Kuro has imagined it piercing through his own chest, to prepare for what seems inevitable; nonetheless, he carries on.
The cold wind blows through Shura’s undone hair gently, wherever it is not sticky with blood. Kuro watches its movements with fierce pain, thinking of other, happier times, where the same sight of his shinobi made him feel safe and relaxed.
And then, as delicate and slow as his steps, his eyes light up.
The memory brings with it a chain of others. The ancient sound of his mother’s voice fills his ears – a lost, beloved voice that Wolf himself has heard many times, during sleepy evenings of ages past. He relives those moments as if they were yesterday, far from a field covered in corpses.
This must be it, Kuro thinks. If it does not work, nothing else ever will.
From the depths of his snowy solitude, Shura hears a shaking young voice rise behind him. The rush of violence in his veins comes to a halt without warning. There is something he recognizes in that voice, something buried deeply – a sign of other days, other feelings, possibly other futures.
His limbs grow heavy, and he listens.
Under the cherry tree,
In the bright light of spring,
I will find you there,
I will find you there.
Although the way Shura’s muscles tensed up fills Kuro with terror, he sees them relax as clearly. With a leap of hope in his chest, he keeps getting closer as he sings.
Petals of beauty
Twirling in the air,
Spinning with the seasons,
I will find you there.
With an animal sound, Shura lowers his head. Kuro walks until he is facing him, and kneels. Desperate hope is guiding his words – a hope built through so many years of protection, companionship and care. From his parents Kuro learnt all that, and passed it on. The time to remind him of all that, that he was always there for him, is now.
Eternal voices
call them to their fate,
called to live and die,
as must you and I –
but we rest together
in the grace of now,
a joy without end,
my hand in your hand.
The transformation is slow, yet steady. The fire starts dying in his dark, deep eyes, leaving room for the gaze Kuro remembers . With quiet grunts, Shura melts away like snow in the sun. And as his arms rest low, surrendering, Kuro’s voice cracks.
From this life onward
At our resting place,
I will find you there,
I will find you there.
By the end of the song, Kuro’s hand is resting on a cold cheek. The horrible heat vanished under his fingers. On the face he touches, a pain without end nor reason.
There is much that cannot be repaired, Kuro thinks, as sobs start bubbling in his throat. So much has been lost, and so many wounds are open that will never heal. That knowledge is not enough to stop his tears. He cries with horror and regret, for sure; he knows it could have been so differently, if only he had protected his shinobi better. Much of it is his fault. But above all, in the chill of this Ashina wind, his tears flow with relief.
He will make amends. They will make amends, somehow, together. And maybe, one day, the spirits of the dead will find their peace.
For now he calms his heart, and caresses the no longer burning face he knows so well.
“My Wolf,” he says. “You came back to me.”
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