Chapter 5 – Echoes of the Past
The mountain clinic was quiet, save for the wind pressing against the paper windows. Ashura lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts tangled. Three weeks had vanished. His body was healed, yet something felt… different. The diamond-shaped mark on his palm throbbed faintly under the bandages, as if alive.
Master Iroh entered the room, hands tucked into his sleeves, eyes unusually serious. Shoto immediately perked up.
Shoto: "Sensei!"
Iroh (calm but stern): "Shoto, give your brother and I a moment."
Shoto hesitated, then nodded and slipped outside.
Ashura pushed himself up on one elbow.
Ashura: "You saved me, huh? Guess I owe you one, old man."
Iroh's brow twitched, but his eyes were sharp as blades.
Iroh: "Show me your hand, Ashura."
Confused, Ashura slowly unwrapped the bandage. The diamond seal pulsed faintly with blue light. Iroh's eyes widened. For the first time in years, his composure cracked.
Iroh (whispering): "…Impossible."
Ashura frowned.
Ashura: "What? It's just a weird mark. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Iroh sank into thought, memories clawing at him — old scrolls, ancient warnings, the stories of a weapon that chose a vessel once every century.
Iroh (murmuring): "After a long time… it's returned." I thought it was destroyed we all did.
Ashura raised an eyebrow.
Ashura: We? "You're not making sense. What's it?"
Before Iroh could answer, the door slid open. The nurse stepped in, puffing on her cigar, her eyes narrowing at Ashura's glowing palm.
Nurse (quiet, heavy tone): "…So it's true. The last wielder… has awakened."
Ashura blinked, bewildered.
Ashura: "Last wielder? You two are talking like I'm some kind of prophecy."
The nurse gave a dry laugh.
Nurse: "Not a prophecy. A curse. That mark means you've inherited something that could destroy the world—or save it."
Ashura scoffed, trying to mask the chill that crawled up his spine.
Ashura: "Great. Exactly what I needed. Another problem."
But inside, he couldn't ignore the weight pressing down on him. The seal wasn't just power—it was fate, and it had chosen him.
---
Outside, Temari leaned against the wall, secretly listening. Her fists clenched. She'd heard the stories too. A vessel of unimaginable power, always born in times of chaos.
She glanced toward the sky, muttering to herself.
Temari: "Ashura… just what are you?"
The wind howled louder, almost as if
the mountain itself knew that history was beginning to stir