Fox Tales, Chapter Six—Pain of Reincarnation.
As long as the master can save Princess Qingji's husband Zuolin, she is willing to pay a million in gold to help expand your estate.
Beneath the austere gates of an ancient manor, Princess Qingji gazed with unwavering resolve at the man before her. He was the most renowned—and most reclusive—onmyōji in all of Kyoto: Kyoya Ootori. The young exorcist's face seemed permanently devoid of expression, only a pair of cool, detached eyes peering through Western spectacles at whatever stood before him.
Rest assured, Princess. Lord Zuolin's fate has not yet run its course. This ordeal shall end without lasting harm.
A calm voice, an indifferent bearing—like the evening sun on the horizon, unchanging no matter what transpired beneath it.
If that is so, then all the better. But tell me, Master—what manner of creature has laid hold of my betrothed? I would know, so that I might guard against it hereafter.
The princess steadied herself, but a new edge crept into her voice. Her fiancé was a notorious philanderer. She adored him despite it—or perhaps because of it—yet she could not abide his wandering heart.
The young onmyōji said nothing, but Princess Qingji refused to relent. Call it a woman's intuition—she sensed something about the affliction that had befallen Zuolin.
And as an onmyōji, Kyoya was bound by one inviolable rule of his house: never tell a lie.
The princess gave a small wave. Her attendants brought forward several more chests of coin, and at the sight, Kyoya lowered his head. After a long silence, he exhaled softly. Very well. Perhaps this too is your destiny. Please, follow me.
Along the narrow corridors of the estate, grotesque paintings of demons and spirits lined every wall. Candle in hand, Kyoya led Princess Qingji into the innermost sanctum. The cavernous hall was bare save for a single eerie ink-wash painting mounted on the far wall.
ROAR!
A painted lion erupted from the scroll. All around the room, the inked figures seemed to come alive—ghastly gods and demons leaning out from their canvases, howling as if to devour living flesh, their eyes fixed on Kyoya and Qingji. The sight drained the color from Princess Qingji's face, but Kyoya merely bowed his head in a slight bow. Huaji, my apologies for troubling you once again.
On the central wall hung the portrait of a woman. The figure in the painting watched the world beyond the frame with the stillness of a living person—gazing upon Kyoya and Qingji, who had come before her this time, just as she gazed upon all things beyond the frame.
All things in this world are suffering. The hearts of mortals—why must they cling so stubbornly to one path?
With a mournful, sighing cadence, the woman stepped slowly out of the painting. True to her name—Huaji, the Painting Lady—she was a specter born from a painted image. Her pallid skin and jet-black brows gave her the air of a celestial exile.
Tell me—this creature that has ensnared my betrothed, what is it? How do I protect him from her?
Driven by love, Qingji forced the question out. The Painting Lady only shook her head.
You are mistaken. You know only the affairs of this life. But in another's eyes, perhaps you are the one who came after...
The Painting Lady raised her wide ink-wash sleeves. Behind her, the blank scroll suddenly rose into the air, and like a painting coming to life, it displayed a complete scene.
In the image, a young soul walked the path along the River of Forgetfulness. He was the very likeness of Zuolin. Just as he was about to cross the Wangchuan, he spotted a single black spider lily straining toward the Nether River, as though desperately trying to escape. The young soul sighed, plucked the flower, and spoke:
I know that every soul must forget its past life before it can have the next. But to forget the one you loved—what an unbearable injustice. Just as you were born to grow forever on this riverbank. Now, I will take you from this place. I hope you will not be bound by the wheel of rebirth the way I always have been.
With that, the soul placed the black spider lily into the Nether River. Carried by its currents, the flower eventually washed ashore on a distant bank and transformed into a woman. She bore with her the wish and the memories that soul had entrusted to her, and at last she left the Nether River and the Wangchuan behind, arriving in the present world.
She had come to find Zuolin—to fulfill the wish he had once entrusted to her.
And that is the origin of Lady Higan. She was once a spider lily on the banks of the Wangchuan, freed by Zuolin's previous incarnation when he plucked her from the riverbank and cast her into the current. It is for that act of grace—and the wish he bestowed upon her—that she has come to take him away from this mortal world.
"Ahh... a black flower yearning to break free from the Nether River's prison? What an admirable spirit! Hmm!"
Deidara studied the latest issue with keen interest, offering enthusiastic commentary as he read. Lady Higan's backstory was finally out: she was a spider lily that refused to remain rooted beside the Nether River. A twist of fate—Zuolin's past incarnation plucking her free—had allowed her to escape, and now she'd returned in this life to repay the debt.
"Well, well. No matter the era, there are always those who want to break free of the system."
Kisame sat leaning against Samehada, offering his own philosophical take. Thanks to their covert communication channel with Hinata, this latest delivery from Sai had included both the new figure design sketches and exactly ten copies of the new Fox Tales issue—one for each member of Akatsuki.
"This issue introduced two attractive new faces. Looks like she's planning to scale up production."
Kakuzu sat at the entrance of their underground chamber, fingers flying across an abacus as he crunched numbers. The towering, long-lived missing-nin narrowed his eyes in satisfaction. By his calculations, they'd be able to manufacture forty thousand figures by the next launch event. Divided into four tiers—Supreme, Platinum, Gold, and Deluxe—and with two new characters from this issue, the onmyōji Kyoya Ootori and the Painting Lady, both ready to join the lineup.
"Tch! Working with just two people doing everything by hand is getting nowhere fast! And having to run around capturing live subjects for the Shapeshifting Technique—I'm sick of it!"
Hidan grumbled from his seat. As someone who lived for slaughter, being restricted to taking prisoners alive had him perpetually irritated.
"Bear with it a little longer. Once we see how the launch event goes in two months, we won't have to keep doing this."
Pain—the Deva Path—was naturally present for the meeting. Akatsuki's mission load had dropped significantly in recent weeks. Deidara and Sasori were fully occupied producing figures: anything they crafted personally was classified Supreme-tier, the most expensive and exquisite. The copies made via Shapeshifting Technique duplicates were lower-grade versions at correspondingly lower prices.
Since the technique required living humans as raw material, Akatsuki's primary task of late had been capturing usable missing-nin as manufacturing stock.
"What do you mean, we stop after two months?"
"Not stop—scale up. By my projections, the launch event should net us at least a hundred million ryō. Combined with our existing reserves, we can consider opening a proper factory. Suigintou said her money-making plan is just getting started."
Kakuzu worked his abacus with cold precision, clearly relishing the windfall to come.
"Exactly. Akatsuki needs a stable revenue stream. It's the only way to offset the advantage that the major hidden villages enjoy with state backing."
Pain nodded. As leader, he understood that reliable funding was the foundation of any hidden village's strength. Amegakure was under his control, but he'd never had the resources to develop it. With Hinata's business plan, perhaps that could change.
"However, Leader... we've discovered a problem."
Zetsu's voice broke in. As an entity with countless clones, his surveillance capabilities were unmatched.
"It seems the high profit margins on figures have attracted imitators. People are impersonating us and selling counterfeit merchandise."
Black Zetsu's words were crisp and concise. He produced a crudely made figure—obviously the work of rank amateurs. The shape vaguely resembled Zuolin, but the rough textures and distorted features were worlds apart from Deidara's craftsmanship.
"What?! Who dares defile my art?!"
Deidara snatched the bootleg from Zetsu's hand, fury mounting with every second of inspection. "This disgusting thing—have they no shame?!"
"No, I don't think they do. In fact, they're advertising these as being made by the same artist who produced the figures at the launch event."
White Zetsu offered this tidbit with an infuriatingly impish grin. "So the customer base appears to be... quite robust."
"And conversely," Black Zetsu added without hurry, "the number of people cursing your name behind your back after buying one is probably beyond counting by now."
"Those! Absolute! Vermin!"
Deidara's face cycled from rage-flushed crimson to fury-choked grey. He knew exactly what those counterfeiters were doing: destroying his reputation.
"Heh. How ugly humanity can be. Well then—this is yours to handle as you see fit, Deidara."
Pain smiled with cold disdain. He knew this impulsive artist well enough to know exactly what kind of order he needed right now.
"Clean out those insects. Akatsuki has no need for competitors in the figure business."