Chapter Text
Part One: Heat
When Lauren Shiba was eight years old, the world as she knew it came to an end.
The walls of her family’s house weren’t very thick, and her father and Mentor Ji had not thought to keep their voices down; it was well past Lauren’s bedtime, after all, and she rarely disobeyed household rules. But tonight was an exception.
“It’s our safest option,” her father said, in the tone that meant he had been repeating himself and would soon lose his patience.
“You would send her to a place that so thoroughly rejects our way of life?” Ji challenged. Lauren had to cover her mouth with both hands to stop herself from making any noise; they were talking about her, about sending her away from her home and her family.
“It’s the last place Xandred would ever think to look for a Samurai. I have already spoken with Kanoi, and the matter is settled.”
Ji was silent for several moments. No one ever argued with Lauren’s father when he used that tone, least of all Ji. “Of course,” Ji finally said, soft enough that she almost didn’t hear him. “When do you wish to move her?”
“We can’t wait much longer. I’ll have to activate the team soon, and it would be for the best if she was safe before then,” her father replied.
Lauren didn’t stay to hear the rest of their conversation, doing her best to sneak silently back to bed.
Lauren didn’t cry. She was eight years old, and a Samurai, and she would not cry, because it was her duty to stay safe and grow up and master the sealing symbol.
Her father had explained the plan to her after their morning sparring session, about the Saito scion who had married a ninja, and their son who was a few years older than Lauren. How her father had spoken with the head of the Wind Clan and arranged for Lauren to live with them at their academy, to study alongside the older boy.
How Jayden would stay here and train with Mentor Ji and pretend to be the Shiba scion, so Master Xandred wouldn’t think to try and find her before she had mastered the symbol.
Jayden was still too little to understand. He clung to her and cried as she said goodbye, promising that she would come back.
Her father hugged her and told her he was proud of her as he helped her into the sidecar on Ji’s motorcycle. She clutched the brush he had given her close to her chest, afraid to let go of it for even a moment. It was the only thing with the family crest that she was allowed to take with her.
The drive to the academy only took a few hours, winding along the coastline until they reached Blue Bay Harbor, and then heading up into the mountains from there. It didn’t look all that different from the woods she had grown up near, except it wasn’t home, and the man waiting for them near the waterfall wasn’t her father.
Ji was stiff next to her as he made the introductions. Lauren bowed politely to Sensei Watanabe, the way her father had taught her years ago. And then Ji was leaving, and Lauren was alone with the ninja master.
Cameron Watanabe was the most awful person in the entire world. She found a symbol in one of her books that would show if someone was a nighlock in disguise; she wasn’t entirely convinced that she hadn’t done it wrong when he didn’t react to it.
“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Cam asked, raising one eyebrow as he pushed his glasses up his nose.
Lauren scowled at him. “My brother is five, and he’s still a better Samurai than you are.”
“In case you missed the obvious, I’m not a Samurai.”
Her father had told her he was the Saito scion, but maybe she had misunderstood. He certainly didn’t act like a Samurai. At least not one that Lauren would want to fight beside. She was a Shiba; she didn’t need help from anyone else.
“There you are,” Cam snapped. She’d picked the pagoda farthest away from the training areas, but he had still managed to find her. There was no way to wipe the tears from her face without him noticing, so she didn’t bother to try, standing to face him as she clutched the letter and the morpher close.
“I apologize for missing our training session,” she said formally, though she had to focus her attention past his shoulder. She knew after two weeks at the academy that Cam hated when anyone disregarded obligations.
“What’s that?” he asked. He was looking at her hands, his entire posture tense like he was expecting an attack.
“My fath—” She paused, swallowing, and looked down at the letter Ji ha sent her. “My morpher,” she completed, proud of how there was barely a wobble in her voice as she spoke the words.
Cam didn’t move. She thought maybe he was holding his breath. She tilted her chin up, challenging him with a look to say something mean, even as the tears started down her cheeks again.
When he did move, she wasn’t ready for it, falling into a fighting stance a moment too late as his arms came around her. She struggled for a moment, until she realized he was hugging her. She didn’t try to hold back the sobs after that, and Cam didn’t let go until her shoulders stopped shaking and she let go of the back of his shirt.