"So, how was he?"
"Well, it would seem that Bushido overpraised the brat completely," Tamamo spoke from behind his wooden face. "The boy is nothing of consequence. Sure, he displayed a modicum of latent potential in his entry duels, but the moment I released a fraction of my killing intent toward him, he shuddered like a pathetic coward."
"That is excellent news, then. It makes things vastly easier for our designs," Hebi responded, a cold smile touching his lips as he gazed out the wide window toward a hidden, courtyard training ground down below. "With the calibre of hunting dogs we currently possess, it would seem we hold the definitive upper hand."
Down in the courtyard, the young warrior known as Dokuganryū, formerly recognised by his birth name, Date, was completely surrounded by a dozen elite operatives clad in pitch-black garments. They lunged at him simultaneously from every conceivable blind spot, their weapons gleaming in the dim light.
With one single, fluid, breathtaking motion, Dokuganryū moved. A blinding crescent of steel flashed through the air, slicing cleanly through each and every last one of his attackers in a fraction of a second. He calmly sheathed his blade with a definitive click before their bodies even hit the ground, casually turning on his heel and walking away without casting a single glance backwards.
"Yes... especially that boy. He truly is a talent, isn't he?" Hebi continued, a distinct glimpse of twisted pride dripping from his voice. "He has effortlessly passed every task we have thrown his way. We even dispatched him on several high-risk assassination missions across the outer provinces, and he executed them in a third of the time we had given him. He finished everything flawlessly, without sustaining so much as a single scratch."
"Mmm... it would seem he is living up to the promise he made," Tamamo murmured, taking a seat on a low cushion. He opened a small, polished metal tin and took a deep drag, deeply inhaling the pungent, heavy smoke curling out of it. "It would seem we are finally ready to proceed and use the ritual upon him. Once the transformation takes hold... I am entirely certain he will stand completely unmatched as the ultimate killer of this era."
"And what of that girl, Miwakuteki?" Tamamo inquired, his demeanour shifting into something noticeably colder. As he spoke, the skin along the backs of his hands began to unnervingly ripple and contract, bulging outward in erratic patterns as though small, parasitic entities were squirming frantically just beneath the flesh.
"Ahhh, that girl..." Hebi sighed, running a hand down his face. "She is performing well. Too well, in fact. We embedded her within the Pleasure District exactly as you instructed, assigning Seiko to act as her handler. The reports state that the clientele there has become entirely addicted to her presence. They swarm the establishment looking for her every single night, yet she refuses them. We have even spotted several high-ranking imperial nobles covertly sending lavish, untraceable gifts to her quarters."
"Oh? That sounds like exceptionally lucrative news to me," Tamamo murmured, watching the movement beneath his skin subside. "What exactly seems to be the issue, then?"
"That is the problem she has practically seized control of the entire district," Hebi explained, his tone laced with genuine apprehension. "Her personal influence now rivals, if not completely eclipses, Seiko's authority. Furthermore, people have slowly begun to vanish after they search for her. It appears her murderous tendencies are growing entirely out of hand."
"That is of no consequence, so long as she continues to harvest the precise intelligence we require."
"True, the information she uncovers has been absolutely invaluable to our operations," Hebi conceded, crossing his arms. "But if high-status individuals continue to evaporate into thin air, the imperial guard will inevitably launch a formal investigation into the district. It risks exposing us prematurely."
"No, no... that is perfectly fine," Tamamo chuckled, his voice warping with an odd, chillingly excited cadence. "I have a distinct feeling that our little blossom has a magnificent plan of her own. As you well know, Hebi... mankind is inherently, pathologically drawn to danger and mythic. Now, imagine the allure of a woman who remains entirely unattainable because a sea of men are desperately fighting for her favour. And what's more, those foolish enough to actually win her courts wind up missing. Isn't that a marvellous, intoxicating story? The braver nobles will only throw themselves into her jaws willingly."
"....."
Hebi remained completely silent, keeping a vigilant watch over his master as the shifting aberration ran its course.
The violent ripples beneath the monk's skin finally subsided into an eerie calm. Slowly, the figure raised his hands and unclasped the heavy Hannya mask from his visage. The face hidden beneath was startling; it was strikingly pale and remarkably youthful, completely contradicting the hushed rasp of his previous voice. He possessed long, cascading black hair and sharp, brown eyes.
"So... you intend to use this face for the upcoming phase?" Hebi inquired, studying his master's face.
"Yes," Tamamo responded smoothly. His voice had transformed entirely, the gravelly, hollow echo replaced by the clear, melodic pitch of a high-born young nobleman. "I have some pressing business to conduct within the imperial courts."
The moment the words left his mouth, Hebi dropped fluidly to his knees, pressing his palms against the floor.
"I shall await your triumphant return, Ōtomo-sama," Hebi declared respectfully.
By the time he raised his head, the grand chamber was completely empty. The monk had vanished into the ether without leaving behind a single breath of wind.
Hebi rose slowly to his feet, walking over to the low table where the small metal container Tamamo had used still rested. He traced his fingertips lightly along the polished rim of the vessel, feeling the residual spiritual coldness lingering on the metal.
"A truly magnificent, terrifying art," Hebi murmured to himself. "Though, as the years bleed together, I truly wonder which face among the thousands was ever his original one."
With a quiet sigh, Hebi walked out onto the wide wooden veranda, his gaze casting back down toward the hidden training grounds. Down in the courtyard, a grotesque transformation was taking place. The elite operatives whom Dokuganryū had effortlessly sliced into pieces moments prior were slowly, unnaturally twisting on the cobblestones. Severed limbs crawled back toward shoulders; bifurcated torsos knit themselves back together with sticky, dark spiritual tendrils, mending flesh and bone seamlessly until the men stood completely upright once more.
A dark, fanatical smile stretched across Hebi's face as he watched the corpses return to life.
"We will undoubtedly win this time," he whispered into the cold night air, his eyes gleaming with malice. "With this... with our undying army."