The Ritual.

[DragonMasterX]

Part 2:

“What is that?!” A citizen of the imperial capital pointed up high as a red speck with wings crashed outside of Emperor Shiburo’s palace. The speck seemed to bounce as it approached the ground, keeping itself tied to the outer walls of the palace.

“You will return to me!” Shiburo’s booming voice commanded again and again. With his overwhelmingly muscular arms, he used all of his strength to pull a thick rope which had been connected to the base of the window by a hook that Misora had used during her escape. “Misora Kaen! You are mine!” he claimed, pulling the rope harder with all of his might.

Below, Misora was trying to kick on the walls to bounce as she descended, having trouble keeping firm as she felt Shiburo pulling on the rope, attempting to take her back up. She damned his persistence, keeping her father’s body under her free arm. The palace was seventy foot tall in total, and Misora had only been able to descend less than half of the towering structure. Shiburo was making it very tough for her, and she knew the rope below her would eventually run out if she didn’t think of anything quick.

Trusting on her own abilities and hoping her dexterity and agility had remained the same even after her transformation, Misora let go of the rope.

“No!” yelled a desperate Shiburo, only to later gasp in surprise as Misora turned her back and begun heading towards the floor even faster, not by just falling, but by running on the wall downwards. The dragon girl ran with an incredible pace, the friction being nothing against her strong legs and scaled feet. However, the ground loomed closer and closer. She would no doubt crush herself if she kept that up, Shiburo thought.

Once Misora drew very close to the ground she reached the end of the rope and quickly grabbed it, and in one swift move kicked as powerfully as she could. The strong rocky walls cracked under all the pressure the shinobi had built and Misora was propelled forwards with ludicrous speed, swinging over the air by using the rope in her claws.

Above, Shiburo didn’t even budge and kept his grip on the rope strong as ever as he saw Misora swing with the momentum she herself had built, flying across the imperial gardens and reaching the outer walls. He saw her fly past the walls and let go of the rope, dropping outside the palace’s reach and into the town’s outskirts. “Un…believable…” The dragon emperor was left nearly speechless, “She’s incredible… so resourceful… Hmm.” He began thinking things through and his eyes lit up a devilish smirk drew across his muzzle. He had just formulated a plan.

In town, Misora had very ungracefully landed on her butt, and was trying to get up while recovering from the serious impact of such strong fall. As she had swung over, she also had to jump onto the tiles of the rock walls and bounce herself single-handedly to leap over as she had to keep her father around one of her arms. She had softly laid her father’s body next to her and quickly examined herself for injuries. Misora was taken by surprise: Her feet and paws were fine, and showed no sort of bruises despite the fact she had run during her fall and had to juggle herself during the maneuvers with just one paw. Had she still been a human, she thought, she may never have been able to pull this one off. She then winced as she remembered what really was paining her body and noticed her left wing: The arrow was still lodged in the soft membrane of her extra appendage. She had to focus to remove it; Misora tried her best, and in the end managed a light twitch in her favor. Misora took the chance and threw her right arm across, grabbing the arrow by its shaft and growled in pain as she quickly removed it.

Gasping at the relief of the arrow gone from her wing, Misora crushed the arrow in her claw, the final tear of physical pain escaping her eyes. The tall dragoness then reached to pull her father up in her arms again. She was fortunate that the escape had resulted in her falling in the outskirts of town. With the guards far away from her she had bought herself some time. Where would she go now, though? She thankfully had not yet been found by civilians as she had fallen behind large bushes which had grown next to the stone wall, but she was unsure of what she should do. Shiburo’s words returned to her thoughts as she remembered the way he arrogantly smiled to her, saying she would never be accepted with her new aspect. She grit her fangs and let out a small growl. Maybe he was right, but she didn’t care, she had to get out of the imperial capital and head out into the mountains, where she would have the advantage.

With her resolve ready, the dragoness carefully made her way out of town without being spotted.


It was early at dawn, and somehow, she had made it to the mountain range her father and she used to live in. Misora painfully looked down at her father’s lifeless body, her lust for revenge growing ever larger as she approached the dojo where her father used to teach in, her home. Her thoughts divided as she found herself standing in front of the bunch she used to train with: Kaen’s Shinobi. Silence took over the place. To Misora, everybody had come to greet her. The group, however, were in presence of an eight foot tall scaled woman with wings and a tail who was carrying the body of their sensei. “Everyone…” Misora softly spoke, taking a step forwards. This elicited a broad feeling of awareness into the shinobi, they apparently had not expected the scaled Amazon in front of them to be able to communicate in their language, and most of them had their hands on the handles or grips of their weapons.

“A… demon…?” One mustered the courage to speak.

“It’s… it’s a demon.”

“I never thought demons existed!”

“She looks like a dragon to me. Wait, is it a she?”

The comments followed one after another, Misora’s heart sunk and sunk. Did they not recognize she who they had spent so many days and nights with together? Had all traces of herself disappeared during the night?

Misora was speechless, she felt like she wanted to break down and cry. She had always been a sensitive girl; her strong emotions were what always had felt like a flaw to her. She, however, had not had any sort of preparation for what was to come. “She murdered our Master!” Her eyes bulged, the slit pupils thinning out as she suddenly hiccupped. The word ‘No’ was stuck inside her throat, somehow unwilling to come out. In a sense, she had been responsible for allowing a murderer to take the life of her own father.

“She’s not talking… Get her!” Misora heard one of them say, before she suddenly allowed herself to scream to let out, although thanks to her recent inner modifications, said scream was more like a thunderous roar.

“No! Stop it!” Misora broke through tears, “I didn’t kill him!” she said. “I… I’m…!”
Apparently, it hadn’t taken much to scare the shinobi, they had all retreated into a large group after her mighty roar.

“Why are you here then, dragon?!” She could swear the voice had come from the center of the mob, but she couldn’t ascertain who it had been since the conglomeration of black made it tough for her teary eyes to clearly see.

“I… I’m Misora! Misora Kaen! It’s me!” She finally said, feeling her chest hurt as she dealt with the emotional pain. The shinobi stared at the voluptuously curvy woman. Sure, her hair color and style looked identical to her along with her pose, but to start with: The Misora they remembered wasn’t eight foot tall, neither had breasts the size of volleyballs.

“L-Lady Misora?” The most familiar voice rang in from the group, Misora recognized him immediately since he was one of the few who wasn’t wearing a mask. Myurin Sakamoto, the young blond-haired trainee slowly walked out from the mob. He apparently had also recognized her voice now. “Is that… really you?” He inquired, receiving stares and gazes of bewilderment from his kin.

“Myurin!” Misora exclaimed, and for the first time of seeing the pathetic ninja in her life, she smiled the widest. “Yes, it is me!” she smiled, taking another step towards the shinobi group. Save for Myurin who still was staring in disbelief, the others made their steps backwards. Misora mellowed at this.

“Please… you have to believe me.” Misora pleaded.

“Prove it!” The voices yelled back at her. “Prove that you really are Lady Misora!” she heard them say. Misora sighed to allow herself a breather, softly laying her father next to her feet, before she reached behind her to grab the sheathed Mugen Ryu and present it with her arm out-stretched, hoping it would be enough evidence. “That… that’s the Kaen heirloom!” Yes, all of Yuuichiro’s disciples knew everything about the legendary sword his family line boasted. Misora had begun to smile again, but then more complications arose, “That proves nothing! She could’ve stolen it!”

How was she going to prove it to them? She barely resembled herself anymore, and her possessions would not do. Was this the extent of who she was? Was there no other way?

That’s when it came to her. A certain accident which one day had burned a certain fact about Misora in her team-mates’ heads that could easily prove who she was even if she couldn’t be recognized anymore.
Misora slightly blushed at what she was about to do, but she put her paws on her hips and then thrust her chest forwards, frowning a bit as she walked towards the group. “Well?” She said, as if expecting it to be over.

They hadn’t walked back this time. Kaen’s Shinobi were focused, Myurin the closest to Misora, staring at her perfect body. Misora blushed more, nobody was saying a thing, that was bad. But had they not noticed it? Under her chest…? That’s when she realized it: Her bust was the problem, it had grown a lot since last time. What she wanted to show them probably was now covered under her left mammary. Misora felt shame, nervousness but, weirdest of all, arousal as she put a paw on her tit, softly pushing it upwards to reveal a black streak in the form of an ascending serpent just below her mound.

And there they were: A bunch of nose-bleeding perverts gawking at breasts nearly the size of their heads. Somehow, this aroused Misora. It felt empowering how they all had suddenly stopped accusing her and doubting her credibility the moment she had decided to change her pose. The light-blue haired dragoness let go of her chest and turned around in embarrassment all of a sudden, trying to cover her chest with her arms. It was funny to her in a way; she had been naked until then, but somehow all of a sudden it felt embarrassing to show off. She thought about it, but the more she did, the more aroused she grew. She had always lacked the means to collectively and visually gain undivided male attention, but with just a few carefully placed steps in her new form, not only they had forgotten their fears, but she could swear she had seen a few tents in their clothes. As she drifted off in thought, her long tail involuntarily swayed to the sides like a pendulum, all heads following it in a hypnotic state. Her butt wasn’t anything lacking anymore either: Its shape and size were simply gorgeous, tempting and curvy, complementing her hourglass figure to a T. Misora felt their oppressive gazes and turned around to yell. “Stop gawking you pervs!”

This alerted them all at once, their trance broken. “Lady Misora…!” their collected voices yelped in unison. That last sentence had apparently triggered what she had hoped for in the first place.

Months ago, Yuuichiro had planned a small break for his students, and they had all headed to hot springs in a secluded area only known to their master. Misora, being the only girl in the whole shinobi school, had headed in with a big towel to cover her entire body, and since her curves weren’t anything superb by then, she had no trouble in being discrete about it. However, it was the fault of a single twig that had been accidentally caught in her towel that pulled it down in front of everyone, revealing a birthmark in the form of a black serpent on her front, just below her chest.
“Stop gawking you pervs!” Misora’s scream had made countless birds fly out that day.

“It’s… really you.” The group of Shinobi slowly approached Misora, who this time was the one stepping away. This awkward table-turned situation had made Misora become nervous. She yelled at them again, ordering them to get her clothes. She wore no tights or arm guards now, her denser limbs would probably tear through them. The uniform part had to be split in lower and upper parts. A hole had to be made for her tail and wings on both, and regrettably for her, her new measurements had made it a whole ordeal to slip them on. In the end, the dragon woman was left in a torn, stretched uniform: The clothes couldn’t contain her massive breasts, but at least she was able to cover enough, unavoidably forming a deep, sexy cleavage in the process. Her trim belly and waist were now fully visible except for the tattered clothes she had before wrapped around her mid-section; she kept them that way to be able to carry her tools. Below was the most embarrassing piece of clothing she had ever had to wear: Misora’s inner thighs were fully visible now, it was as if she was wearing a mini-skirt, her voluptuous, sexy behind not having helped with her ‘new’ wardrobe either.

After somehow fitting the uniform in, Misora sat down with the whole clan surrounding her as she explained the events of the previous night. How she had followed her father based on her own intuition in a mission, how it had turned out that the empire had deceived Yuuichiro and had killed him in the process of carrying out some sort of powerful sorcery that had transformed her along with Shiburo Tora, the new emperor, and her miraculous escape from the imperial capital. Misora was saddened as she looked at the ground. “You are free to go.” She concluded.

“Lady Misora?” Myurin, who had taken a seat next to the large dragoness, blinked his emerald green eyes, not understanding the drive in her words.

“Shiburo’s a lunatic,” she said. “I have to kill him to avenge my father, but going there on my own now will be very difficult, not to mention he probably is not mortal anymore… I’m not sure about myself either.”

“That’s why we should all go with you! Right?” Myurin tried, expectantly looking around at his partners, who all seemed indecisive. “…Right?”

“It’s not that simple, Myurin. We cannot trust the Empire anymore.” Misora cringed and explained herself, “Shiburo probably thought it this far which is why he didn’t let go of the rope when I swung over. All he has to do is use his influence so our Clan is turned into the public enemy…”

“Oh…” Myurin let out a depressed sigh.

“As long as you guys bear the Kaen School sign, you will no doubt be hunted down and killed because of it…” The dragoness looked away. “I can’t guarantee everyone’s safety anymore.” She finished, the powerless feeling of impotence clawing at her neck.

The conversation ended soon after Misora was done with her speech. The shinobi, grateful as they had been to Misora and her father, were now completely void of confidence now that the latter was dead. They weren’t even fully fledged ninjas, and Misora was right, in their eyes. Shiburo most likely wouldn’t remain idle and wait for an assassin to drop down to kill him, even if he did believe in his new powers. Misora didn’t want anything bad to befall on her partners, not anymore now that she had allowed their master to die at the hands of the dragon emperor. They all left in the end after burying and mourning Yuuichiro near the dojo, leaving behind their training suits and turning in their signs. Misora watched each and every shinobi leave, save for one who stayed behind, his mask was off, but not so his suit.

“…Myurin. You’ve only been here for three months.” Misora looked down at the remaining ninja in concern. It was quite a weird scene for her, even if she always had overpowered most of the other trainees with Myurin included, she had never been taller than any of them. Misora frowned, folding her arms under her ample bust. “You haven’t trained enough to be able to carry out infiltration, and you don’t have enough combat experience to be able to defend yourself.”

“But Lady Misora! I… I want to help you! I’m good with bows and ranged combat!” Myurin defensively said, kneeling down to the impressive dragon in front of him and put himself down in a begging position. “Please allow me to accompany you! I won’t be a burden, I promise!”

“Myurin, it’s not that you’ll be a burden or not. If we are in close quarters with the enemy, I can’t guarantee to be able to,”

“Please!” Myurin interrupted, looking up at Misora’s eyes. “I’m begging you, Lady Misora! It’s not about you or me only! Master Yuuichiro… He gave me a place here!”

Misora frowned again, although this time she sounded compassionate. “Myurin…”

“Master Yuuichiro took me in three months ago, Lady Misora. I was the only survivor of a village that had been razed to the ground by a band of thieves… I was all alone! I know what you’re going through. I’m indebted to you and the Master, that’s why I want to repay some of the kindness by escorting you!” Myurin looked dead serious. It wasn’t like Misora would be able to shake him off this time.

This time, Misora replied with a sweet smile. “Very well, Myurin. But… only on two conditions.”

“Anything!”

“Alright. First of all…” Misora used her right paw to count, “You still have a lot of training to do. No matter how skilled you are thanks to your previous life as a hunter in your village, we shinobi are supposed to be versatile and to adjust to any kind of situation. That includes melee combat.” The dragon lady said. Myurin nodded, following with a quizzical look.

“I’ll continue training, Lady Misora!” Myurin nodded, blushing a bit as his eyes bounced from her muzzle to her chest, to her hips and back to her face as if it was some game to him. “What’s the second condition?” he asked.

Misora blushed, closing her eyes as she put her arms in front of her chest again to cover her revealing cleavage. “Stop staring at me like that. It makes me nervous,” she said, although contrary to her words, her tail was twitching, almost wagging like that of a dog’s when they receive praise.

“Y-yes! I’m sorry!” Myurin bowed again, although this time, to beg for forgiveness. “Um, Lady Misora?”

“Yes?” Misora opened her eyes and looked down. “What is it?”

Myurin stood up again, “What… um… is your, plan?” He carefully asked.

Misora’s expression returned to be serious. “I’m going to look for my grandfather. He lives in these mountains. I’m sure he will know what to tell me to help me in my quest.”

“Right!” Myurin excitedly jumped, raising an arm to cheer Misora up. “Um…” he then suddenly mellowed, “What if he moved?”

“He can’t.” Misora put emphasis in the last word. Before Myurin could make the obvious question, she followed: “He’s a hermit. And he’s… blind.” Myurin blinked his eyes at the revelation. How could a blind hermit possibly know about how to deal with this situation? Nonetheless, Myurin had decided to follow Misora wherever she may go.
“Oh… I see.” Myurin said, “Um, no pun intended.” He lightly laughed, quickly slipping on his ninja mask upside down.

Misora was about to say something as Myurin eagerly awaited for her to lead him on, but decided to just ignore it and shake her head. “Let’s hurry!” She then said, running towards the opposite direction of where she had come from before.


It took the pair a couple of hours, but Misora and Myurin made their way through the traitorous mountain range and headed to the Hermit’s Cave. Misora knew her grandfather to be wise and knowledgeable in the ways of war. She knew that much thanks to the occasional trips her father and herself had made every time Yuuichiro would need specialized advice with tough decisions, thus learning to understand the old man and form a strong family bond with him. Misora had Myurin under his arm as she escalated the final step onto the summit of one of the mountains, she lay the breathless boy on the floor. “Are you alright?” She asked, concerned about his condition. “You seriously have to learn how to use a grappling hook. I can’t carry you every time we need to escalate.” She huffed a bit.

Myurin then quickly stood up and cried out, “I’m okay!” He gasped, “I’m okay.” He breathed hard. “Ahh… though I’m a bit woozy.” The young ninja spun around for a bit, almost collapsing and falling off the cliff, stopping only because Misora grabbed him by the back of his suit.

“I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have brought you this high on your first climb.” Misora cocked an eyebrow, starting to sound more concerned, but Myurin quickly stood straight, as if gaining confidence and stability every time Misora would sound disappointed.

“I’m fine! Really. Let’s go in.” Myurin urged, nodding to Misora, who blinked in surprise for his tremendous, but unstable zeal.

Misora entered with Myurin to her side. The inside of the dark, rustic cave appeared to be empty, with no one inside. “H-uh?” Misora mellowed, looking for her grand father without success. “Hmm. I wonder if he’s in the river catching fishes…”

“Huh? He doesn’t have anybody to help him get food?” Myurin questioned. Misora looked towards him and dully answered.

“He’s a hermit. He lives secluded from society and only on his own,” she explained.

“Wow. That must be tough… You said he’s blind, right?” Myurin absent-mindedly said as he and Misora begun searching around for clues. Myurin was about to reach over to what seemed to be a very old firewood oven to check it out, before he felt a stinging pain in his hand. “Oww!” he immediately reacted, “Something hit me!” he groaned.

“What?” The dragon turned around to look over to Myurin. From the shadows, she could now adjust her eyes to see, the figure of an old man holding a wooden walking rod in a defensive pose became apparent. Misora quickly jumped in Myurin’s way, “Wait! Grandpa Kojiro! It’s me, Misora!” She quickly exclaimed.

The old man came out of his advantageous place in the shadows, being now illuminated by the poor light filtering into the cave. “My word, Misora. But I sense you are not alone, I didn’t teach you to be such a poor invader and to be unable to block such a slow swing.” Kojiro, the old man, chuckled. “Friend of yours?” He said, never taking his facing off where he was ‘looking’ at: The outside.

“Poor invader?” Myurin blinked, still rubbing his sore hand.

“Y-yes!” Misora quickly said, somehow relieved that he wasn’t able to see her like she now was. “It’s me, grandpa…” she added, approaching Kojiro to hug him, but then realized doing so would probably elicit suspicion from her grandparent. “I’m glad to see you well.”

Kojiro proceeded to laugh, “Hoh hoh. I’m afraid I can’t say the same. But you do sound fine, my little Misora.” He seemed to smile. “And how is that son of mine?” To that, Kojiro received silence in exchange. Misora was unable to think of how to explain and tried to avoid telling her grand father of the disturbing reality she was now living. The silence, however, was all Kojiro needed. His smile faded, and with that, he took a seat in the middle of the cavern. “I suppose not as good as I had hoped.” Kojiro then said, “Please do fill me in, little Misora.”

“Little” wasn’t precisely what she had become. But a liar was a title she would never so much caress. No matter how much anguish she wanted to spare her grandfather from, Misora couldn’t bring herself to lie to Kojiro. She took a small breath and sat down, followed by a silent Myurin. He could tell he was unneeded in this scene, and as such decided not to talk unless talked to. Misora begun telling everything to Kojiro. Bit by bit, Kojiro would only frown or say ‘Hmm’, as if nothing Misora had to say shook him, not even the ritual she had gone through and why she wasn’t what she used to be anymore. Misora was left speechless as she culminated with narrating about their arrival in Kojiro’s cave. Kojiro seemed lost in deep thought.

“You are in the midst of quite a predicament, my dear.” Finally Kojiro broke the silence. “As you guessed, there is little next to no doubt in my mind that the new emperor will send for the Kaen Clan’s elimination. You did well in breaking up the dojo to save them, my child.” He nodded to himself, “However… You will not be able to stop this madman by conventional means.” Kojiro folded his arms together, as if trying to put up everything together like a large, complicated puzzle. “I’m too old for this.” He sighed in defeat.

“Grandpa…” Misora’s spirits died down all of a sudden. Her grand father could feel this, and proceeded to smile to try to cheer her up.

“Heh. But I know of someone who isn’t, my dear child.” Misora’s eyes lit up at this, “I will tell you who it is and where to find him. He will surely lend you his blade after you explain your situation to him. He used to be one of my disciples in my days of being a master… And one of your father’s best friends.”

“Why…”

“You hadn’t heard about him before?” Kojiro completed Misora’s question, “I’m afraid a dispute between them caused a large fissure in their friendship, causing them to take different, separate roads in life. Like best friends they eventually made up, however… Their ways remained separate. I must say I’m not completely sure when I say he will like this, however… There is no other choice. He’s the best among swordsmen.” Kojiro then finished with the man’s full name: “Daigo Hanekoma. He lives in the woods northwest of the Imperial Capital.”

Misora stood up, followed by Myurin “Thank you so much. I promise I shall avenge my father with Daigo Hanekoma’s assistance!” She nodded full of confidence, staring at her sinewy, powerful forearm to her tightly gripped fist.

“…Misora.” Kojiro then said, standing up, bending forwards slightly due to his bad posture, his wooden stick helping him remain straight. “What that man did to your father is unforgivable.”

“Yes! It is!” Misora nearly growled, fuming through her nostrils.

“But…” Kojiro trailed off, “You must remember. Vengeance is but the same as the crime itself. Assassinating Shiburo Tora will not bring your father back. Not only that, but if you allow your emotions to cloud your judgment, you will eventually endanger yourself and those who surround you.”

“G-grandpa… But he killed your son! Aren’t you angry?!” Misora suddenly yelled, Myurin too scared to say anything to calm her down.

Kojiro nodded. “I am extremely upset. At Yuuichiro.” He said.

“What…?” Misora felt like something heavy had sunk inside her stomach all of a sudden. “How can you possibly...?”

“Misora, did you know why your father and I stopped talking recently and your visits became less frequent?” Kojiro suddenly asked. Misora was taken aback, but tried her best to answer.

“I thought he said you two had argued, but I never really asked about the reason… Not that he tells me what he speaks to you about,” Misora said before Kojiro sighed.

“He… he loved your mother. He loved her with all his heart and soul,” Kojiro began, Misora felt like she needed to feel warm, but something appeared to be wrong as Kojiro continued his speech “He loved her so much he would commit unforgivable crimes for her,” he said.

“Unforgivable crimes…?” Misora repeated.

“Murder.” Kojiro first said, and knowing Misora would immediately object by putting their line’s codes in, he added, “…innocent people.” Misora’s eyes bulged greatly, widened like saucers, the weight of this all was too much.

“You… you can’t mean…?” Misora’s lower lip trembled as she spoke, but Kojiro was serious. Dead serious.

“Years ago, when your mother was murdered by a band of thieves… It was when you started going under training to learn the way of the shinobi. He founded the Kaen Shinobi Dojo to attract the Empire’s attention, and that he did.”

“But Grandpa!” Misora objected, “Father… I mean, the Emperor of Torusawa would never order to kill innocents! We knew him, he was…”

“…not the man who’s the current Emperor.” Kojiro finished. “I had known the child, Shiburo. He wasn’t like his father. He was ambitious, extremely cunning and devious. That is why I asked your father to reconsider his allegiance with the Empire. However… It has come to this.”

“H-how does this explain father being a criminal…?” Misora insisted, being unable to resist crying a couple of tears.

“…your Mother, Misora.” Kojiro started again, “The only reason why he did all of this, was because he was driven by revenge.” Misora’s eyes bulged again as he continued, “He let himself be deceived, because he wanted information about the band of thieves who had murdered your mother… To kill them.”

All of a sudden, Misora felt like crying louder than she ever had, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, she fell to her knees. “He followed Shiburo’s orders… his dirty crimes against innocents… Because… he wanted to avenge Mother… Father…” Misora’s voice trailed off. She had her blurry vision fixated on the floor, but she could feel her grand father approaching her. He put his arms around her grand-daughter in a warm embrace.

“You have become strong, Misora,” Kojiro softly spoke, “Do not allow your emotions to take control of your judgment. Your emotions are what feed the blade of your sword with the power of will to defeat the evil that is deception. Your newfound powers…” He reached down, carefully feeling her snout with a hand, lifting her face by the chin, to make her look at him smiling. “They must be used to bring justice upon the person who has done great evil and deceived many. That is why you are now here, child.”

“But grandpa…” Misora sobbed, “Father… was he… really a bad… a bad man?” She softly asked between hiccups.

“Your father… He was an astounding man. He wanted nothing but the best for his family. He made one wrong choice, yes. But at the same time, he left a valuable final lesson for you to learn from, Misora.” He nodded, smiling ever as brilliantly. Misora somehow found comfort in his words, her will reinforcing.

“Grandpa…” Misora trailed off again, she tightly hugged Kojiro, though she was careful with her strong arms, not wanting to hurt him.
Myurin had felt somewhat lost in the midst of the conversation and had decided to leave for the outside to wait until the family moment had passed. He had heard Misora cry once, and had now finally decided to walk inside to take a peek, but was greeted by Misora’s humongous chest as she prepared to leave, her firm breast bouncing his face away and onto the ground outside. “Oh, Myurin.” Misora curiously bent down, helping the boy back to his feet. “Is there any problem?”

“N-none at all, Lady Misora.” Myurin dully replied, almost babbling, an evident red blush across his face. He probably was thinking how lucky his nose had just been and that at the same time she somehow had not noticed it.

“Misora, head over to the woods. Daigo may seem to be harsh at first, but he will acknowledge you no doubt.” Kojiro said, receiving a last hug from his grand-daughter, who then walked next to Myurin.

“Thank you for everything… Grand… Master.” Misora smiled a bit, before putting her open hand against her closed left one and bowed in respect, her tail casually smacking Myurin, who quickly revered in the same manner. “We shall go now.” She said, before jumping off the cliff to descend.

“Uh… uhm…” Myurin looked below, he was sort of afraid of jumping down in such a nonchalant way. A huge red blur blinded him for a moment as Misora was in front of him again.

“Oopsie. Sorry, Myurin, I forgot.” She said, scooping the smaller human in her arms, and bid farewell to her grand father again.

“I wish you nothing but success in your quest… young dragon.” Kojiro finished as Misora softly smiled and jumped off the cliff again, carrying Myurin down with her.

To be continued…

-------------------------

Also, lookie!



Fanart of the story, drawn by Dan Lyrics. His first attempt at drawing a full dragon anthro female, yay! X3

Leave comments! Rawr!