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| >> Campfire Creative >> Other >> Fantasy >> ID #777011 |   |
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| [Introduction]
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Mizú [Water] Kamínari [Thunder] Kágè [Shadow] Kazé [Wind] Ryú [Dragon] Támàshii [Soul] Yukí [Snow] In a beautiful fantasy world, set in a place similar to feudal Japan, there are seven master clans known as the Elementals. Each clan is known for their skills in wielding the power over their own element. Most of the Elementals are rivals and continually battle over their title as the Supreme clan. Each character is a descendant from one of these clans, and will carry on the legacy to fight and become known as the best. |
 Akira Kureshida  (Additional Information) There is a tournament called the Kurasu, held every four years. All warriors are expected to participate to prove themselves. All seven Elementals and one non-Elemental are expected to make it to the final round but only one will be the winner. All Elementals are training hard to take the Supreme title. The Elementals are hostile towards each other since the war waged between the clans is a fierce one. No one has ever dared to break it. In each clan, there are a number of fighters who train to represent their clans. Choose a clan and create a character who will eventually win their place as the representative of the clan. They may be from the clan’s head family or from one of the branching families. When the representative has been chosen for each clan, they are sent to a training school on neutral grounds where they will learn to refine their skills further and learn about their opponents. At the training school, Arakajime, they will train with neutral Masters for a few months until the tournament begins. You may choose any type of character, from a young samurai girl to a ninja. Try and stay with the Japanese theme, you do not have to know everything about the culture; it is alright to break some rules since it is a fantasy world. Choose a main weapon for your character also and state the abilities they have mastered. Send me a small bio stating the clan, name, age, gender, weapon, mastered abilities, appearance, personality, and background. PLEASE do not have ULTRA POWERFUL, ALMIGHTY, I-can-kill-everything-and-everyone characters! ^_^ There is one loner, who does not belong to a clan yet, wishing to prove himself in the tournament. He carries no Elemental abilities but he believes in himself and is determined to win. He will represent the non-Elemental class. This means there are a total of eight characters in the campfire. This campfire is full! ('',) Elemental Information Mizú [Water] – The Mizu are able to control any surrounding water to their will, including using it as a weapon or shield. The strongest of the clan are even able to transform their entire bodies into water for periods of time, although this is very draining and extremely difficult. Kamínari [Thunder] – The Kaminari are continuously protected by electricity or lightning. It runs through their bodies and through anything they touch, if they will it to. It makes them difficult to fight against since the attacker deals more damage to themselves by coming into contact with them. They are also from the samurai class, so they believe in honour and courage. They have magnificent sword techniques and most use a katana as their primary weapon. During battle, it sounds as though they are fighting in the midst of a storm. Kágè [Shadow] – Most of the Kage have ninja abilities, they can blend in with their surroundings and have incredibly refined senses. They are clever and as quick as lightning during battle, moving faster than the opponent is able to see. Most of the Kage are dark and emotionless. Most of them hire themselves out as assassins or spies. Kazé [Wind] – The Kaze are able to disappear and become unified with surrounding air. They can easily transport their bodies from one place to another and neutralise the opponents attack by fading that part of their body away, although this is time-consuming and not all attacks can be eluded this way. They can also use the air to suffocate their opponents, but this rarely happens since this is not an honourable way to win. Ryú [Dragon] – The Ryu have mastered incredible sword techniques superior to every other clan. The crest of the clan is a dragon, and the myth says that the most powerful of the Ryu can summon an Imperial Silver Dragon and control it, though this is yet to be proven. They are honourable and respected. Most of the Ryu are from the Samurai class. Támàshii [Soul] – The Tamashii are known for their ‘seeing’ eyes. They can see into a person’s soul and find all their faults and weaknesses. Their eyes are entirely white, which is a characteristic of the Tamashii who are actually blind to the normal world. They are able to see the world in terms of energy and spirits. They are masters of the mind; most of them are able to calculate and manipulate a battle to their advantage. They are geniuses and do not like to lose. Their reactions and techniques vary; some are even able to master the other Elemental skills. During battle they are calm and collected. The Tamashii have won the last two tournaments and are the only clan who are not at hostile rivalry with any clan. Yukí [Snow] – The Yuki are known for their beauty and pale skin. They are effortlessly graceful. Their abilities include summoning snow to put their opponents at a great disadvantage; it affects their sight and slows them down. With their own element, they are able to create powerful weapons that are unbreakable and when cutting through flesh, cause burning pain. Character Bios Non-Elemental *~Name: Shizuka Kiseki [Silent Miracle] Age: 19 Gender: Male Weapon/s: Switches between a full-length katana (full-length samurai sword) and two wakizashis (half-length katanas) depending. Mastered Abilities: Kami Uzumaki [Divine Whirlpool]- Unleashes a multitude of extreme sword techniques around a single opponent, allowing them no way to escape or move, like being trapped in a tornado, and then finishes with his two wakizashi crossed over the opponent's throat from behind. From there he can slash their necks or whatever. Appearance: He has spiky chestnut coloured hair. His eyes are a creamy red colour. Shizuka wears loose black strapped pants and black boots. He also wears a simple white shirt with a falcon crest on the back. He carries his two lightweight wakizashis by either side and his katana on his back. Personality: He is distant at times and is tentative on first meeting but with understanding comes trust. He can be kind to most people. Likes to sit by himself and think often, mostly dwelling on his past. Background: “Shizuka Kiseki” is a name he made up for himself after waking up washed up on a shore ten years earlier with no memory of his past or his family. He strives to find out who he was and the clan he came from. He can feel a power stirring inside of him but knows neither what it is nor how to harness it. After trying to obtain information from each clan, he has been faced with rejection and will do anything to find out which one he is from. He is aware that all clans do not associate with outsiders so he figures the only way he can come into contact with them is to get into the Arakajime. Maybe someone there will help him find out which clan he is from and if he belongs to somebody; a family. He has impressive skills with the sword since he learned from an old man who was once a samurai. He trained with him for years until he finally surpassed him and is now wandering the country, looking for some answers. t.s. wood, the sleepy art kid   Mizu *~Name: Sakanako Mizu Age: 16 Gender: Female Weapons: A katana with a bright blue hilt for basic fighting, two built-in knives on her wrist guards for close-up combat, and a hidden dagger on her calf, the blade emblazoned with a sea-serpent. Mastered abilities: Souji Tsunami [Sweeping Tidal Wave] - Can create great tsunamis and control exactly where and when they hit, giving a great advantage when fighting large numbers. Controls rain drops- can walk in the rain without getting wet, or splash the water in an opponent's eyes, temporarily blinding them. Also has mastered many martial arts and weaponry techniques that are not commonly used by those of the Mizu clan. Appearance: Slender with broad shoulders, Sakanako is quick on her feet and has very fast reflexes. She keeps her waist-length dark brown hair in a high braid on her head. She has tanned skin and green eyes, which can be a little creepy. With a tapered chin and dark eyebrows, she can look fierce. Always dressed in black hakama and formal top and chest armor of the Mizu clan, she tries to blend in with her surroundings. Personality: As a perfectionist, she doesn't like making mistakes. Can be very solitary, but often becomes lonely. Insecure about her feelings, she doesn't want to fall into any sort of relationship, feeling that it will interfere with her training. Often very insecure, secretly wishes for a close companion. Background: Trained from an early age to use the abilities she possessed and expand her talents, Sakanako feels that she is in debt to her departed older brother- he was the main one who trained her and more than once risked his life for her. Her parents both died, leaving her to carry on the family's history of skilled warriors and talented healers. Sakanako herself knows a great deal of healing the wounded, and proves this on many an occasion by helping mend the wounds of those hurt by enemies. purplenotpink Kamínari *~Name: Clea Alymara Age: 19 Gender: Female Weapons: She is more into Japanese Martial Arts but she does use a single, silver handled dagger with the Kamínari standard of a storm engraved on it. Mastered Abilities: Arashi [Storm] - Clea often hails down a series of striking sequences, which is mostly made up of kicks and other leg movements and take-downs. She blocks any weapon attack of her enemy with her dagger. She tries mainly to get her opponent on the ground, where she swiftly brings the dagger to their throat. Appearance: She has shoulder-length black hair, streaked with silver and determined, fierce blue eyes. Her posture is alert and ready. Personality: She is very determined and steady, and her only fear is of failure. She is mostly quiet and observant, and she watches and listens to everything around her. But when there is a cause to speak up for, she is not hesitant. Clea seems to be hiding a deep and secret pain, but she hides it well. Background: When she was 15, she was betrayed by her closest friend who turned out to be an assassin from an unknown enemy. Clea barely escaped with her life, but her younger sister, Marjan, caught in the crossfire, wasn't as fortunate. Clea vowed that she would not let the evil deed go unpunished, and she began training viciously in hopes that when the day that she would come face to face with her enemy... she would be prepared and take revenge. mirror on the wall Kagé *~Name: Kyo Geseki Age: 20 Weapons: A black handled, silver katana with an engraved dragon that curls up the blade. Mastered Abilities: Besides having mastered the blade techniques and accuracy in aim, Kyo has the ability kyuudou [Seeking Truth] – and can blend with and travel in shadows. His speed is unnatural and he uses his abilities in a deadly way. He is also a gifted child with an ability no other Kage has reached since birth. Appearance: Kyo Geseki has silvery jet-black eyes with long, uneven hair that hangs over his eyes and ears. The long strands of hair are silver and the rest is the deepest of browns. He wears black clothing and has half his face covered in black material. Personality: Kyo has extremely high I.Q. and sharp analysis abilities of his surroundings. He has hatred inside him only a demon could possess. He cares for nothing. He is dark, sharp and quiet. If something displeases him he makes sure it is disposed of. Background: Kyo Geseki grew up in a poor excuse for a house with his mother and father. Poor they were, but were gifted with Kyo. Kyo was found with an extremely rare gift no Kage knew of. The result to their selfishness in using him to better their lives was he ended theirs for them. Having no regrets for his actions and no reason for living, he wandered the streets in search of a purpose, and found it when the Kage village held a ceremony for Kage's finest fighter. It sickened Kyo to watch such a conceited man waving down at his admirers. Seconds later he had killed Kage’s finest along with others that had stepped in to stop him. His purpose for living was clear to him now. The answer was there from his first kill. mattdevlin Kazé *~Name: Ringo Nakamura Age: 24 Gender: Male Weapons: Pudao. Light-weight, razor sharp blade, ivory handle. The weapon is as light as a feather, but the metal as mighty as the mountains themselves. He also wears Emi Piercers on his arms that drop from his sleeves during a fight, making his arms themselves weapons. Mastered Abilities: Suxicchi Hitofuki [Switch Gust] - Using the power of the wind, Ringo can transport himself to any position on a battlefield in less than the blink of an eye. Appearance: Ringo is round like the apple of his namesake. He also has pudgy cheeks that turn red at the slightest provocation. Don't let his appearance fool you, though. Ringo is a mass of muscle and his speed is almost incomparable. He has scars on his arms and chest from years of street fighting. His hair is shaved on the sides, but he has a braided length that runs to the small of his back. He wears a traditional brown haori with a black kosode and a dark green obi about his waist. Personality: Ringo appears jovial, but he is not to be crossed. His short temper makes him a hard person to be allied with. Despite his shortcomings, he is a loyal and courageous soul. He finds joy in the thrill of the fight. Once he sets his mind to something, do not even attempt to stand in his way. He has a poetic mind and is given to epic flights of fancy. Background: Ringo knows very little about his past. He woke up in a Shaolin monastery one morning with no knowledge of his past. He has many scars that he is sure are from his years as a a great and oft written of warrior. The Shaolin monks, taking pity on him, let him stay for several years, teaching him the art of Pudao and Tiger-style kung-fu. Feeling the call of adventure, Ringo left the monastery and has been travelling walking the world ever since, doing good where he can, expanding his legend with every step. Daizy *~Name: Yuriko Kazé Age: 19 Gender: Female Weapons: Pa Kua broadsword that is wide with a jagged edge. Though it looks like it would be an extremely heavy blade, it is actually quite light, the blade itself is over 40 inches in length, plus the handle. She also has a Susano blade, which is quite long and thin. Both swords are made of a stark white metal. Double dragon-fighting fans for defense also. Mastered Abilities: She has a special power to bind the wind to her weapons. Yuri is able to disappear in the blink of an eye and reappear just about anywhere a split second later. She is faster than any normal person should be and can make herself nearly invisibly by joining with the wind. Appearance: 5’5 and 120lbs. Her eyes are blue with bits of silver. They are big and surrounded by long black flirty lashes. Her hair’s base color is black, but there are streaks of white and blues prevalent. It is long, past her hips, and wavy. Yuri is lithe with lean muscle and curves in the right places. Her skin is a golden hue, like a deep tan. She moves with grace and confidence. Her aura exudes exotic, almost otherworldly, beauty. Personality: She is a very serious individual with incredible discipline. Yuri is a strong and surprising woman. She will sometimes stop in the middle of speaking and whisper into the sky as if she could truly speak with the wind. Yuri is usually silent, but when she speaks everyone listens. Her voice is soft, but commanding. To nearly all, she is cold and distant, but to the few people, who have taken the time to befriend her, she is loyal and sweet. When something must be done, Yuriko is the girl to ask for help. But she has a bad habit of tuning out those around her and drifting away mentally. Make no mistake though she is neither dumb nor careless. In fact she is the exact opposite. Yuri has an amazing mind and is ever watchful. Background: Yuriko is the hope of her clan. As the daughter of Mieko Kazé, easily the strongest wind elementalist alive, Yuri is expected to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She has certainly started off on the right path, but her family has drilled it into her head to be the best. There are no exceptions and second place is never good enough. Yuriko has been training since her mother saw her conjure up a breeze as an infant. There have been no breaks from martial arts, weapon and elemental training and no praises for a job well done. In many ways, Yuri is a very lonely and bitter girl. Kythara Ryú *~Name: Kyari Ryú Age: 15 Gender: Female Weapons: Katana and wakizashi, wielded one in each hand, both with a stylized dragon design in silver on the black fistguards, the blades of 'twistcore' forged steel, their surfaces resembling rows of swirling elements, with ivory hilts, and ebony scabbards reinforced with steel on the inside to double up as another weapon should the situation call for it, with the same dragon design, set in silver, running the entire length of the wood. Mastered Abilities: Two swordplays: Touken [Cold Steel] - The first teaches the counters to all known weapon-plays from the various clans, taught to every member in the clan. Kaijin [Ash] - The second is much more exclusive, because of its legendary prowess of being able to defeat any weapon used, as only the Head family knows the skill. The technique focuses mainly on speed, and the ability to anticipate the opponent's next move. The play effectiveness lies completely in the attack and the aggressiveness of the practitioner, as it has no room at all for defense. (In time to come, she will be able to summon an Imperial Silver Dragon) Appearance: Her blue-black hair is split into two small braids framing the sides of her face, with the rest falling to the small of her back in straight lengths. She is as slender as a willow wand, her small frame betraying no hint of the strength she may exude in combat, and her appearance and melodious voice have fooled more than one opponent into underestimating her, a mistake they often do not live long enough to repeat. Her eyes seem to contain a rage bordering on violence, and one look from those dark orbs is enough to strike fear into the heart of many. She is extraordinarily beautiful, with alabaster skin and fair features, appearing like the very image of propriety, for the look in her eyes is often veiled by her eyelids and long lashes. She is often clad in a kimono of the palest yellow, with a silver dragon emblazoned along the entire back of the robe. Personality: Cold and arrogant, with an undercurrent of barely restrained anger. She is often as polite as protocol demands to her numerous relations who all seek the legendary skill for themselves, and has since learnt to use their cravings against them, hiding her skilled manipulation of their desires behind a polite façade. She is a dangerous one to cross, for she will go to any length, honorable or not, to claim vengeance. Background: The entire Head family was killed one night, leaving her the sole survivor. She has her own suspicions as to the murderer, whom she believes to be a member of the clan, for all know that only the Head family has access to the scroll on which the legendary swordplay is written on, and an over-ambitious man could easily creep into the palace and kill everyone save a child, whom they probably believed to be easy to manipulate. Because of the massacre, she is filled with distrust for all, and her station as the head of the clan is all that stops her from going on a rampage to find the murderer and make him suffer for the crime he had committed. krispyangelz Tamashii *~Name: Ayame Tamashii Age: 17 Gender: Female Weapon/s: A long silver katana with silver hand guard and black handle. Mastered Abilities: Tamashii Kyuzo [Soul Wave] – Allows Ayame to see and replicate some opponent’s abilities if she wishes. It also means she is resistant to the damage from the Elemental attack if it is used on her. She can only use it once and it drains her of energy badly. (More abilities will be learned as the story progresses) Appearance: She has long, silky black hair reaching to her waist. She is known for her exquisite female beauty and elegance. She has the trademark white eyes and soft pale skin. She wears a white kimono with pearl lining and stitching. On the back is a butterfly embroidered in silvery-white, barely visible. She wears her katana by her side, the sheath pearly-white and decorated with wave patterns. Personality: Her personality is kind but distant. She is graceful, quiet and soft-spoken. She is wise, and intelligent, but at times cold and introverted. She seems almost flawless but inside she is longing desperately for something more. Background: She has seen so many souls, and each one pains her- she can see their innermost desires, their pain and their loss. Ayame will see almost everything about a person but never divulges any information to anyone, no matter what it is. If she wants to, she will be able to win the tournament and it is a known fact amongst her clan that representatives of the Tamashii wish to win only if they have not found someone worthy of winning. Ayame grew up in her village and has never seen anything outside of it. The tournament is her chance to see more of the country and different people. She has always been gifted amongst her clan but at times she longs to leave and explore something new. She believes in peace and longs for the end of the clan wars. hinatahyuga Yuki *~Name: Kori Yuki [Is part of the Head Family] Age: 17 Gender: Male Weapons: Kori can control and manipulate the snow. He is stronger in his element and can create weapons out of ice at will; they're stronger than any blade. As cold as his weapons are, if cut by them, the wound burns. The snow can also slow down and affect one's eyesight. Mastered Abilities: Tenshin [Divine Will] - His will to control the snow is powerful. Kori has mastered manipulation of snow and the Yuki sword techniques. He has also mastered other kinds of sword techniques the Yuki don't use and don't know of. Appearance: Kori looks graceful and is pale. He has misty grey eyes that continually swirl and light brown eyebrows. He has long and spiky ashen-blue hair; he's handsome. He wears formal clothes around the Yuki clan, but dresses much differently behind closed doors. His choice of clothes are grey baggy pants and a plain white t-shirt, with a white jacket that has two long slits at the back, outlined in grey. Kori is always bear footed and wears a necklace of what appears to be a bird; a single snowflake with wings and a fiery tale. He never takes it off. Personality: He keeps to himself and doesn't talk much to anyone. As graceful as Kori is, it's only on the surface. Skin deep he is a different person. He has no one that he would call a friend, but is grateful for those who are nice. Kori doesn't like to be known as his parent’s son because he is his own person, as much as he loved his parents. He has other intentions for Arakajime and hates the heads of the Yuki clan for a mysterious reason. Background: Both of his parents had been powerful, though he didn't see much of his mother. His dad had won the Kurasu tournament once, which is why Kori is well respected, praised and somewhat feared that he is as good as his dad. His parents died when Kori was four. No one knows the cause of their death. He awoke one day alone, with nothing but his memories, his parent’s fortune and the necklace. Akira Kureshida Shizuka remembered so little from the time before; the memory of his self that lay sleeping, hidden in the core of his soul that was so close yet so cruelly out of his reach. In the realm of his recurring dream, he felt cold ice, darkness and a woman’s scream for mercy. In this dream his hands were slashed and bleeding crimson streams and he fell backwards into the darkness into cold seawater that knocked him unconscious, washing away his memories, washing him into a stranger’s land that had once been home. Why had no one claimed him? How come no one recognised him? Where did he belong? There were so many questions and answers that lay with people who would not let him enter their territory. It was so relentlessly frustrating and deeply painful. Shizuka sat on the jagged rock, his head in his hands, listening as the waves sighed again and again, lapping against the sand. Mizu. Water: one of the Elemental clans, was he one of them? Cold wind blew against his face from the sea. Kaze, the clan of wind. Did he belong with them? He had come out of those waves thirteen years ago and perhaps they held the key to his memories. He didn’t even know how old he was, when locals had picked him up, they had guessed he was around six years old. Now he was nineteen. He looked at his hands, the orange glow of the rising sun lit up the scars on his palms in strange shadows. The Kage, the clan of shadows…one of the seven Elementals. There was power in him, hidden and waiting to be released, like a song he had heard once but couldn’t remember the tune of, even though he could hear the melody over and over. Shizuka ran a hand through the spikes of his dark brown hair and stood, picking up his two wakizashi and katana, strapping the wakizashi to either side of his waist and the katana to his back. He walked the short distance back to his Master’s home and took off his heavy black boots, placing them beside the door, and then bowed to the old man who stood watching him, waiting. The man grunted and turned to his weapon display, polishing a silver sword with a cloth. Shizuka sat down cross-legged on the wooden floor and waited. “I suppose you have come to say your good byes. Well go on, I’m waiting,” the old man growled, not looking at him. Shizuka smiled. “I suppose I have.” “Well then, I knew it. I spend thirteen years looking after your pitiful self and now you’re going, gone, just like that,” he rebuked, giving him a quick glance, and then going on to polish his sword. Shizuka shrugged and smiled again, noticing the old man was watching him in the reflection of the over-polished sword. “Master Kado,” Shizuka half-bowed, “I thank you deeply for your kindness. You have been my life these thirteen years-” “Ah, don’t give me that crap. You surpassed me years ago.” He waved a hand irritably and said sourly, “These damn people you’re looking for- I don’t see why you should bother. Besides that, these Elementals won’t give a non-elemental rat like you a second glance.” “I may be one of them. What else can I do to find out who I am? As long as I belong no where, I have nothing.” Master Kado dropped a hand, his eyes falling to the floor. A long pause followed. He turned to look at Shizuka and his expression had changed to one of spite to sadness. “Good luck to you, Shizuka Kiseki. As soon as you find yourself, you come straight back here and tell me, eh? I pray for your safety. I expect you’ll win the tournament; I don’t want you coming back here too soon all hopeless.” “Yes. Thank you, Kado-sensei,” Shizuka said sincerely, bowing to the floor. Master Kado threw his hands up in the air and shook his head. “Damn, I’m losing the best of all my students.” “What do you mean? I’m your only student,” Shizuka laughed, looking around at the empty dojo. Kado looked at him feigned shock. “Don’t insult me, boy, just because you’re leaving.” He turned back to polish his weapons in irritation. Shizuka brought little else than the clothes he was wearing, a small amount of coins hidden in his left boot, his weapons and a precious trinket he kept with him from the time before his life began anew as a Kiseki. He travelled through the roads, north to the large town of Kimazo where the preliminary tournament for non-elementals was held. He knew the Kage clan was supposed to be close by in a walled-off village of their own called Hikede. He had been there once before with his Master but they hadn’t even made it past the first gate where guards had threatened to kill him and his family if they didn’t leave. With Master Kado, he had visited each Elemental village in the hope of finding someone who would recognise him, but they had been rejected from each. It was hopeless to fight his way in; he’d have to take a different path. The town of Kimazo was bustling with activity and even from the outside; Shizuka could see people practising their fighting skills on the streets and other places. As he neared a field that had been marked off with wire on the grass, he walked towards the crowds of people gathered around the tournament squares to watch the first few fighters competing for their place as representative of the non-elemental class. Their was one main battle square in the centre where most people had gathered, but there were separate squares around the area to eliminate the first contestants for the main rounds. A table of official judges sat before each square, watching and taking notes. Men and women of various ages had entered, but overhearing the few conversations that he did, there wasn’t much hope for them in the main tournament anyway. “What’s the point of entering this stupid tournament?” an elderly lady spat. “It’s not like a non-elemental could even pass the first round of the Kurasu. It’s just embarrassing!” “Well it would be embarrassing if no one entered, too,” her companion replied, smiling at her son who was in the square they were watching. Shizuka shifted from one foot to the other in contemplation, growing more annoyed and slightly disillusioned. “I hate watching the Kurasu! I swear I’m not going this year. The non-elemental always loses horribly in the first round and the Elementals are probably laughing at us.” Shizuka crossed his arms as he watched the two opponents in the square fight each other with katanas. His eyes caught sight of two dark figures, both covered in dark clothing, crouching and watching from a rooftop. One of them was sneering in obvious contempt, his face unmasked. The energy inside of Shizuka swelled and fought its way to surface but he suppressed it and wondered who these people were. “The Kage,” a man next to Shizuka said. “Probably came to see what fool will join them this year.” He shook his head in disapproval and watched the fighters again. His dark hair was long and tied back and he was almost as old as his Master Kado. He looked back, noticing Shizuka’s weapons. “Hey, are you joining the tournament?” Shizuka shrugged, watching as the smaller fighter fell to the ground, knocked out. “Oh well, good luck to you. The name’s Ken.” “Shizuka,” he nodded. They both watched as two new fighters took the main square, ready to begin. “You’ll be up against Shiro’s son this year,” Ken murmured. A teenage girl in front of them was squealing excitedly to her friend. “Ooh, Shiro’s son Kai is definitely going to win. Kai is so cute and strong, his father is a samurai, who could ever beat him?” Shizuka noticed a tall man in a samurai robe and a guy who looked just like him across the square. They watched, expressionless. “Oh I know! He’s so incredible…but I heard he was betrothed this year. Isn’t that right?” the girl’s friend asked. They snuck peeks at him and gushed. “Yes, that’s right but who cares? That girl he’s with can’t satisfy him in every way.” “Oh, you’re so bad, Ira! Just look at him…I bet he could even win the Kurasu.” They giggled. Ken scoffed and grunted in amusement. “The Kurasu. Kai is strong, but not that strong.” Shizuka wasn’t planning to enter the Kurasu; he cared only for the Arakajime and the people there where he could observe them and test his latent powers. Several fights later as the sun blazed down, signifying noon, the real battles were taking place. One boy who was in the midst of the battles was taking each fighter down, one by one. He didn’t have great techniques but he was obviously determined. Shizuka admired his spirit. He couldn’t have been much older than Shizuka, his fiery red hair was ear-length, he had a strong build but he didn’t look as though he came from the warrior class. Shizuka saw Shiro and Kai sneer every time he won another battle. More people had gathered and all the competitors had been eliminated to the final few. Shiro and Kai hadn’t moved all day, they observed and commented every now and then to each other. Shizuka didn’t even know whether he was able to enter the tournament now that the final fighters had been decided. He wondered if it was too late. A moment later, his question was answered. A teenage boy, younger than Shizuka, came up to watch, spitting and cursing angrily. Shizuka raised an eyebrow and the boy noticed. “That stupid old man, who does he think he is? Can’t enter the damn tournament. Loser! Shit, I’ve been training for days and now he doesn’t let me sign up. Kuso!” Shizuka looked down at his feet, wondering what to do. He’d been distracted all day and hadn’t thought about signing up. It was too late to enter, should he return to Master Kado and wait till next year? No, it was too late for that. The battle was over with the defeated boy dragged from the square on his back. The official called on the last opponent. The red-haired boy who had made it through 12 successive rounds was the last, and now he was to defeat the last competitor. The samurai warrior, Kai, stepped into the square taking a katana from his father. The crowd hushed in anticipation. He faced the boy and unsheathed his sword while giving him a smile filled with arrogance. Kai’s opponent was sweating and obviously drained of energy, but he held up his katana, his eyes filled with new determination. “I have come this far to defeat you, Kai.” Kai’s father, Shiro, stood by, his face set like stone. The tournament began with the official judge signalling for them to fight. Kai’s black and crimson robes billowed around him as he stood waiting for his opponent to strike. Shizuka listened as the people around him raved on about how amazing Kai was and his definite win to this nobody. Kai couldn’t possibly lose with a father like Shiro.It was Kai’s destiny to win. Shizuka looked up to find the two Kage sitting down, looking more bored than before. The one with a black cloth over the lower half of his face was drawing in a cigarette. They were still watching and Shizuka had the feeling that they weren’t there for their own amusement but to gather information. A dark feeling rose whenever he looked at them so he tore his eyes away and made the energy inside of him sink down, back into the deepest part of his self painfully, like trying to stop a tidal wave with his hands. Shizuka turned to the match and then to Ken who was watching with some interest. “Who is that other boy?” “The one fighting Kai? I have no idea. I heard he’s some sort of servant kid who learnt from some old man in the village. Looks determined to win, doesn’t he? Some one said his name is Eitoku.” He looked around and spotted a plump woman in a kimono chatting with several women. “Oi, Hana, you gossip enough, who is that boy fighting against Kai?” he called. She sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes before walking over with her group. “We were just talking about that, you know? You men don’t know anything, do you? That boy is Eitoku, the stable boy in Shiro’s home. A servant of his own household doing something like this! How ridiculous!” She shook her head while her friends shook their heads in disbelief. Ken looked at Shizuka and rolled his eyes. In the square, Eitoku was fighting with everything he had while Kai stood back, blocking attacks and doing barely anything, letting Eitoku use up the last of his stamina. Shizuka could already see Kai’s strategy; he let his opponent waste their energy by attacking. As Eitoku moved in to his final strike, Kai looked as if he was about to block but instead side-stepped him and dealt a blow to the back of his head with the hilt of his sword. As Eitoku fell forward, he cried out and slumped to the ground. The crowd began to cheer for Kai’s victory but Eitoku began to get up again, obviously using the very last of his energy. He was shaking and bleeding from his nose and ear, his eyes watery and unfocused. Shizuka narrowed his eyes in concern as Eitoku stood shakily, leaning on his sword. “I won’t, I can’t,” he said desperately. Kai and the audience hushed in curiosity. What did this nobody boy have to say? He cleared his throat and spat out blood and saliva. “I can’t lose to you. For Mimi I will kill you. I won’t ever let you win again. You and your family have taken everything from me. Mimi, not Mimi.” He shook his head fiercely, tears mingling with dirt and blood falling from his eyes. Shizuka wondered what the boy meant when Hana, the gossiper, began to talk again in excitement. “Mimi is Kai’s bride-to-be! I don’t understand how this boy has anything to do with her though…You see, Kai’s family hired him after his parents were killed, sentenced to death by the government or whatever the case.” Hana furrowed her brow in confusion. “I don’t understand why he would want revenge on the very people that took him in.” One of her friend’s took the reigns. “He wants revenge on them! How disrespectful and ungrateful he is. He deserves a good punishment!” Shizuka was nudged by Ken. “I bet you anything that Kai’s father Shiro had something to do with the death of that boy’s parents. As an honoured samurai, Shiro has high influence on the government. No wonder Eitoku wants revenge.” The gossip spread through the audience quickly, spreading like fire to straw. “You can’t fight anymore, Eitoku. You have lost, give up now and I will let you your life. There is no honour I can spare for you now,” Kai spat. “Mimi is my wife and I won’t let you talk about her as if you are more than the nothing that you are.” Eitoku picked up his sword and charged at him in fury. “She is mine and she doesn’t love you!” Kai fought back, rushing forward and lifting his sword to swipe Eitoku’s away. Kai brought his foot up and around to kick the blade free from Eitoku’s weak grip. Eitoku’s blade nipped the side of Kai’s jacket, making a long slit in the corner as it flew through the air. Kai narrowed his eyes and then he kicked Eitoku’s knees out from underneath him as he pulled him forward by his collar. Eitoku fell to his knees, facing the ground as the crowd cheered. “Punish him!” one girl suddenly cried from the crowd. The general agreement among the crowd was that this boy on the ground was not worthy of life in the light of someone like Kai. “Do it, Kai!” “Yes, the boy’s insolence can not go unjustified.” “This disgrace can not be kept alive.” The crowd joined in, willing him to reap this justice. Kai peered around and received a nod from his father. Shizuka looked over at the table to see one judge in disagreement but the other two watching in interest. It didn’t look as though anyone was ready to stop Kai from killing the boy. Shizuka gripped the hilt of his wakizashi tightly, feeling the hand-guard cut into his palm. He shifted in his place slightly. Kai brought his katana down, the silver blade rushing down to the exposed neck of Eitoku. The crowd watched in stunned fascination as they tried to figure out what had happened; what had kept Kai from wreaking his justice. The loud sound of a metal clanging against metal rang through the field. Shizuka stood up, keeping his eyes on Kai’s. He had blocked off Kai’s katana in a flash with one of his own wakizashi. Shizuka stood over Eitoku and pushed Kai backwards with his free hand, glaring coldly into his bewildered eyes which then thinned into angry slits. Shizuka was the first to speak. “With my sword I take revenge for this boy. I will defeat you and win this tournament. If there is any injustice here, it is you.” Kai laughed boldly. “You? Who are you. You are nothing just like him.” He looked around at the crowd and back at Shizuka. “This boy is lucky to still be alive and only made it this far because my father allowed him to work for us. As for Mimi, she can die with this stableboy for all I care. I’ll fight you if you’re so eager to disgrace yourself and die.” “Wait just a minute, that boy can’t just fight now, can he?” a woman from the crowd interrupted, appealing to the judges at the table. “If he can make it through this round then it doesn’t matter who he beats, does it, stupid woman. Obviously he has more skill than the rest of them with that lightning speed you just witnessed,” a man retorted. Shizuka glanced over to see that it was Ken. The main judge nodded. “They may fight but not to the death. This is an official tournament, not an execution.” Shizuka looked at his feet to find that Eitoku had passed out already and was being cared for by an elderly man and a young woman with a hood over her head. She looked up into Shizuka’s face and mouthed the words ‘thank you’. Eitoku was lifted away from the square. Kai’s father stepped forward and placed a hand on Kai’s shoulder. “You can defeat this nobody quickly and easily. He speaks with a menacing tongue but he is nothing to you.” The audience argued among themselves, around half siding with either Kai or Shizuka. Shizuka lifted his wakizashi, wondering whether he should use his other also but knew he would definitely not require his katana. Kai sneered at his audacity. “One wakizashi against my katana? You are more than just a fool,” he shook his head and laughed. The store of power inside Shizuka swirled unused and threatened to consume him, almost like a live presence. When beckoned to it would surge forth and wait upon his will but Shizuka had no idea how to use it and he had no idea what it was. He didn’t plan on knocking himself and everyone around him unconscious like he did once by accident with his Master. He concentrated on his present moment, letting the intuitive side of him take over, balanced by his senses. Kai waited for Shizuka to attack and stood in the defensive with his sword raised mid-way. Kai looked sloppy and almost bored on the surface but in his eyes he was alert, ready to defend any attack. Shiro had his eyes fixed on Shizuka. He couldn’t do anything until Kai attacked or else his efforts would just be wasted. Shizuka waited and ignored Kai’s supporters as they threw taunts at him in their impatience. Kai ran forward to strike as he finally grew impatient enough to ignore his ideal tactics. He slashed his sword upwards at Shizuka and was side-stepped quickly. He was caught on the back of the head by the hilt of Shizuka’s sword, causing him to stumble forward awkwardly. Kai turned around in anger, his face crimson. Shizuka smirked. Laughter rang out from the crowd as they realised that Shizuka had used the same move as Kai had used on Eitoku earlier. In fury and his eyes blazing with hate, Kai came in slashing his sword at Shizuka with the intent to kill. If any of those moves weren’t as basic and obvious as they were, Shizuka could have easily been cut in half but he parried them away with his wakizashi and dodged most of the attacks, taking his time as Kai struck and advanced furiously. He watched carefully as Kai went for his left side, ready to strike down diagonally but Shizuka ducked and gripped Kai’s sword arm pulling him forward into a running stumble. Shizuka leapt from the ground in a flip, leaning on Kai’s shoulders and then brought his wakizashi around Kai’s throat from behind as his feet made contact with the ground. He kept a firm grip on Kai with his free hand on his forehead. Kai dropped his sword. Shizuka hissed in his ear. “Do anything to that boy or Mimi and I will come for you and I would never hesitate to kill you as you killed his family. I will make the pain ten times worse and I won’t think to spare you any dignity or honour.” He let Kai go, pushing him to the ground in disgust. “We have a winner!” The judge announced. The crowd jostled forward, ready to congratulate him and to throw questions at him. “Goodness, so quick!” “How did you do that?” Shizuka sheathed his sword and looked around and shifted his weight to the other foot. “What is your name?” “Kiseki, Shizuka.” “Who is your sensei?” “My Master is Hatsu Kado from Miru,” Shizuka answered. The crowd murmured in excitement. “Will you marry my daughter?” Shizuka laughed. He looked up at the rooftops. Above him the two Kage had been watching in interest. They then nodded at each other and disappeared. “We may actually have a chance in the Kurasu this year!” a woman exclaimed. From here Shizuka was headed for the Arakajime where he would be faced with the most elite and advanced fighters of their generation. In just two days he would see them for the first time. He had a month to find out about his past from those who may have known something about him. A lost clan member. Zєro is Leaving Oct. 15 Time changed yet the river continued to flow, following the same course it had for generations. The waters were bountiful with fish. Ringo watched them flit back and forth beneath the languid surface, some fighting the current, others drifting with the flow. He glanced at the waterfall in the distance which fed the river. His pudgy, jovial face spread into a wide smile. He loved the feeling of peace the river gave him. Unlike most young men in the village, Ringo was quiet and preferred to be alone. He would never amount to much, as the village elders were fond of saying. The young man did not care, though. He was content to live his life in solitude, existing only for himself.The call that reached his ears brought a slouch to his broadening shoulders. He rose from the moss covered stone that served as his front row seat to the constant show of nature, brushed the wrinkle from his dark green kimono and walked into the woods. It was not far to home. His aunt, Heiko, would most likely have reams of work waiting for him when he returned. But he did not want to return on this day. Rather than following the path to the village, he turned and headed for the harbor. There was always adventure to be found at the harbor. Ringo knew that if he looked hard enough, he would find work with some tough as nails seafarers and they would show him all there was to know about sailing and the outside world. It was late when he finally reached the harbor. A small nameless village had arisen around the harbor. It was here that hardened sailors from all over Japan would drink and swap stories of past adventures. His first moments in Tavern of the Kuma were tense ones. Long had it been since the clientele had seen someone so young and fresh-faced, so unbelievably well fed. Many hands found their way to bone handled knives hidden beneath ratty kimonos. A man of Ringo’s girth could only be a man of opulence in their eyes. Ringo was well aware of the thoughts running through the minds of the various thugs and thieves whose eyes followed his every move. A knife flew through the air, hurtling towards his head. Ringo closed his eyes and focused his attention on the blade. A strong gust of wind blew open the tavern door. The wind seemed to move as thin fingers across the room, fingers that caught the blade, spun it around and sent it hurtling back in the direction of the man who had thrown it. The crooked toothed thug barely had time to dive out of the way. The blade thunked into the wall where his head had been. He glanced at the weapon and quickly passed out. The event caught the eye of a quiet man in the far rear corner of the tavern. He was a small man with a long beard of black and gray. His eyes twinkled with amusement at the young man whose unexpected talent held the scummy patrons in shocked silence. The moment soon passed and the patrons turned angry eyes on Ringo. A massive man charged him, ready to pound him into the ground. The old man in the far rear corner stood and cleared his throat. “Leave him be!” he bellowed. All action stopped once again. Ringo could not help but smile. The man was so small, yet he held sway over all of them as if they were a collection of puppets. “What is your name?” the old man asked. “Ringo Nakamura,” Ringo said with a slight bow. “I am Jiro. What is your business here?” The old man seemed to observe no levels of protocol. There was no protocol in places like this. “Are you looking for something?” “Hai.” Ringo smiled. “I would like to leave this island, Jiro-kun.” “Interesting.” Jiro smiled at the others gathered around Ringo. “He wants to be a sailor. Does he have experience, I wonder.” The others laughed. “Oh, but look at him. Does he not look like a seasoned veteran of the sea?” The others laughed harder, so hard that it seemed their bodies had been taken over by some invisible demon. “You know nothing.” Ringo turned and stomped toward the door. He wanted to turn around and curse them all, but such an act would have surely gotten him killed. “Wait!” Jiro pushed through the crowd and began circling the boy. “We are always in need of an extra hand. If you survive one week with my crew and me, you will be commissioned as a sailor. I must warn you, it pays little.” Ringo smiled broadly, redness coming to his cheeks as he shook Jiro’s hand. “You will not regret it, Jiro-kun.” “It is Jiro.” The old man’s smile left his face. “If I do regret it, you will see how we dispense justice on the seas, my young friend.” The ship shot up the face of one wave, only to be pelted by another. Ringo had watched the ocean many times and thought waves moved in one singular direction, but this was a bombardment. Two years on the ship and he had never seen weather like this. He had survived his trial and was now a respected member of the crew, but there was so much he still had to learn. The ships lurched to one side, sending him sprawling to the deck. He watched in horror as the mainsail line snapped and whipped around in the wind. Jiro stood on the bridge, hands on his hips. The weather did not seem to faze him. He stood firm like the trees of the forest Ringo had loved as a boy. Seeing his captain show such blatant disregard for danger made courage swell within Ringo. He popped to his feet regained his balance and waited for the line to whip toward him. It came fast, cutting through the air like a knife. Ringo leapt into the air and grabbed it. His momentum caused him to pendulum for an intense terrifying moment. He had nearly lost himself when the line took him over the side of the boat, dangling him above the torrent waters of the turbulent sea. “Take a look, men! That is a true sailor!” Jiro yelled over the noise, thrusting a single bony finger in Ringo’s direction. The old man was never one for praise. The statement made Ringo proud to be alive. “He must have saltwater in his veins!” The wave that washed over the boat took them all by surprise. Ringo held the line as he plunged headfirst into the ocean. He pulled himself back onto the boat and flopped face first onto the deck. He looked to where Jiro had been standing, but the old man was gone. He glanced toward the bow and stern. Jiro was nowhere to be seen. Most of the men were gone, in fact. Ringo could only count three crew members apart from himself. All were scrambling to stay onboard and keep the boat afloat. Ringo stumbled to the edge of the deck and looked out across the dangerous sea. He saw Jiro and some of the crew members struggling to stay afloat. “Men in the water!”, he screamed. No one seemed to hear him. And if they did, they didn’t care. They were too busy trying to keep themselves alive. Ringo could do nothing but watch Jiro and the others bob out of sight. None of them seemed to be frightened, as if they had always known they would die at sea, in a storm just like this. The next massive wave came with plenty of warning. Ringo had watched it swell to full height and now it was barreling toward them. He tried to grab a line and hold on, but it was too late. The wave crashed into the ship, turning the ship onto its side. Ringo tried to hold on, but the deck was slick. He slid into the water, the entire world moving in slow motion. A barrel from the deck of the ship rolled toward him, smacking him right in the face. The last thing he saw was the ocean swelling around him and then … darkness, total and complete darkness. The smell of blood hung on the air like a veil of death. Ringo sat upright in bed, gasping for air. His heart was pounding in his chest and his arms and legs were incredibly week. He found himself in an unfamiliar place. It was a long hut constructed of mostly bamboo. The cot he was resting on was also made of bamboo, a soft bed roll stuffed with feathers made it entirely comfortable. There was a monk meditating next to his bed, legs folded, eyes opened slightly. Ringo had seen that level of meditation before. Nothing he could do would remove the man from his introspective state. He rose from the bed, stumbling slightly. His legs were weaker than he had initially thought. He walked towards the window and looked out. The building was surrounded on three sides by jungle. Directly in front of Ringo was a path that led to an open plaza. The plaza was guarded by two dragon statues. “You are awake, finally.”, spoke a voice from behind. Ringo, frightened spun around to find the bald monk standing no more than a foot or so away. “I’m sorry to have frightened you. I was eagerly awaiting your conscious presence.” “What is this place?” Ringo spoke, a lump in his throat. He cleared it quickly and asked again, more force behind his voice. “It is very sacred place, my friend, a monastery.” The monk’s voice was level and calm, never too sharp, never too week. “A monastery? What kind of monastery?” Ringo was still defensive, even though the monk presented no threat. “Shaolin.” The monk had to smile. He found the young man intriguing. “You were delivered to this refuge by traveling merchants. They found you on a beach, comatose and near death. I personally nursed you back to full health.” “I am indebted to you.” Ringo muttered with a slight bow. It took him much to give thanks to the man. His years as a sailor had hardened him immensely. “It is I who am indebted to you. You have shown me the true power of will. So much you have overcome. No one has ever awakened from such a state before.” The monk bowed low, almost to the floor. “How long was it?” Ringo felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to vomit, but felt that the monk would be terribly offended if he did. “Two years, I am afraid.” The monk tried to avoid his young charge’s eye. He knew it would be a difficult revelation. “There were many who thought it best to suffocate you. Those who do recover are never completely whole. There is an absence of the mind, a vacant place where thoughts once passed.” “Then I count myself lucky.” Ringo could not control it anymore. He sank to his feet and vomited all over the floor. There was no consistency to the vomit. It was as clear as the water of the stream Ringo had watched for hours as a young man. “Nature has smiled upon you.” The monk touched the back of Ringo’s head. The nausea seemed to lessen with the touch. “There is much to see. You will find robes beneath your bed. Please, join me outside when you are ready.” Spring came and went with the wind. Ringo had quickly found his place with the monks and in the summer, his training began. He found the calm and quiet of the monastery terribly inviting. Besides Ringo and Fai, the young monk who had nursed him back to health, there were only four others living within the monastery. There was Guang, the pudgy man with a sharp wit and fists of steel, his temperamental brother, Shung, the wise and powerful On, the oldest of the four and Jun, the handsome young man who never seemed to speak. Summer gave way to fall. Fall gave way to winter. Ringo trained every single day, honing his skills with the pudao. Winter passed and the world was reborn in spring. It was during these months of rejuvenation that the stranger came to the monastery, bringing news of an epic tournament. Ringo danced across the plaza, spinning the pudao behind his back. He moved with grace and elegance, movements as fluid as the wind. It had taken him many months to get his full strength back. Once he did, not even Fai, the best of the warrior monks, could keep up with him. Jun and Fai watched with great concentration as Ringo moved through his practice with ease. They watched to find a hole in his defense, something that had yet to find. Ringo had amazed them from the moment of his awakening. They had never seen a seemingly ordinary man overcome such odds and swiftly become a great warrior. They were about to applaud the actions of their young friend when they were interrupted by On, his face stony and deathly serious. “Leave us!”, he commanded Jun and Fai. “We have important business to discuss. And do not eavesdrop!” Jun and Fai scrambled over one another as they hastily fled the plaza. They knew better than to test On’s patience. The old man stood in silence for a moment, studying Ringo from head to toe. He seemed to be looking for something. “What is it, master?” Ringo bowed low as he spoke. “Have I upset you?” “No. On the contrary, you make me proud.” On took a step forward and placed his hand on Ringo’s shoulder. “What do you know of your past?” “Nothing, master. I remember the ocean that is all.” Ringo did not know what to make of the moment. On was never one to make physical contact. “It has come to my attention that you are not of this land, Ringo.”, On seemed saddened by this truth. “You are from the empire across the sea. Japan.” “Yes. Fai had his suspicions, master.” Ringo could not hide his smile. Fai was amazingly intuitive. “He is a good friend to you.” On was smiling, as well. It seemed to be a proud moment for him, but Ringo couldn’t figure out why. “He is my very best friend, master.” Ringo tensed as he said it, the words coming from the very bottom of his soul. “You must return home, Ringo. There is a matter you must attend to.” On handed him a scroll, took a step back and bowed lower than was called for. “You are Kazé, a child of the wind, a son of a great clan. This is your destiny. You must pursue it.” On maintained his bow as he departed from the plaza. Ringo quickly unfurled the scroll and read. There was information about his clan, information that had not even been given to him before his memory loss. He wondered if the scroll had anything to do with the mysterious stranger who had visited them some weeks ago. He wondered how long On had waited to deliver the truth to his most favored disciple. He wondered what the future now held for him. The village was alive with activity. Ringo stepped from the shop, still tightening the brown obi he had just purchased. His kimono was dark green, a color that he instantly felt a connection to. Fai stood beside him, wearing a red kimono with a black obi. He seemed to be uncomfortable in the attire. His body was rigid and when he did move, his movements were slow and uneven. “There is no degree of movement.”, he complained. “What is the sense in this … this coffin of fabric?!” “We don’t want to stand out, Fai. Now we look like everyone else.” Ringo gave his friend a pat on the shoulder and stepped down from the colonnade. The two walked to where the crowd was gathered. There was a wooden platform surrounded by squares comprised of bamboo. Within each square stood a warrior, running through the various movements of the fight that would soon rage. “They are no match, I can tell.” Fai sat down in the dirt, making himself comfortable. “Well, get it over with. I’m hungry.” Ringo stepped into the square that had been designated for him. He glanced over at the young man next to him. He had spiky blonde hair with a red streak down the center. He squatted and rose to his feet several times, stretching his legs. Ringo watched his movement with great interest; sure he would have to fight him eventually. “It’s a small matter.” The young man said. “We win or we lose.” “Hai. A small matter.” Ringo nodded in agreement. “I’m Makoto.” The young man stepped from his square, hand extended. “Ringo.” He shook the man’s hand and smiled. “See that bloke over there?” Makoto gestured to the big bald man on the other side of the ring. The man had no weapons to speak of and was not even attempting to prepare for the battle. “That’s Yoshi. He’s the sure winner today. I plan to show him a thing or two.” “His concentration is admirable.” Ringo stated, nodding. “He has no brain. No brain, no concentration.” Makoto spat, laughing afterwards. He seemed to find his own joke funnier than it actually was. “He must have some thought if he is a sure winner.” Ringo replied. Makoto nodded at this. His confidence was a mask for his doubt. The fights raged for almost an hour. Fai never moved from his spot. He watched the fighters closely, studying their every move. He watched the silent one Yoshi defeat most of them with little effort. He watched the swift one, Matoko, make a show of things, dancing around the ring and taunting his opponents. He watched Ringo silently and masterfully best his foes. Out of all the fighters, Makoto won the affections of the crowd. Not only was he a good fighter, but he was also a showman, giving as much effort to fighting as he did to entertaining the crowd. Fai spotted it immediately as his weakness. Yoshi was harder to place. He seemed to have no weakness in the realm of the physical or the realm of the mental. Fai was starting to think the man had no weakness. Then it happened. A kick to the ribs revealed a moment of relapse in the defenses of the quiet monster. He seemed to have immense pain with each blow. Makoto had seen it, too, because he was exploiting it every single chance he got. Fai thought that perhaps the young, cocky warrior would face Ringo in the final round. The crowd was brought to full attention as a sickening crack issued from the ring. Makoto was frozen in place, eyes wide with pain and defeat. Yoshi had him by the leg, his ankle held at an unnatural angle. Yoshi brought his fist down on Makoto’s knee, snapping it right in the center. His leg bent in the wrong direction. Yoshi, the quiet monster, continued to bring his hand down over and over, breaking Makoto’s leg in almost a dozen places. The cocky warrior cried out in agony and sank to the wooden platform. He crawled toward the ropes, reaching for salvation, but Yoshi pulled him back, bringing his foot down on the man’s spine, perhaps breaking it in several places. Ringo could take it no more. He swung into the ring and pulled his pudao from his back. With one swift movement, he slammed the flat side of the blade against Yoshi’s head. The big man was unfazed. “It’s over!” Ringo growled. “Save your strength for me!” Makato was quickly pulled from the ring and dragged to safety by some of the village women. He could move his upper body, but his legs were paralyzed. Ringo looked to the judges, waiting for approval. The first judge gave a nod, indicating the start of the fight. Ringo had little time to react before Yoshi was on top of him. Ringo pun out of the way and brought his pudao around in an instant. The crowd gasped as Yoshi’s head fell from his shoulders and rolled across the platform. Everyone was stunned into silence. The fight had not even lasted a heartbeat. The sure winner was lying dead on the ground, his head several feet away. Even Fai could not believe the swiftness of the kill. But no one was more surprised than Ringo. He dropped to his knees, having spilled the first blood of his life, having robbed a man of his eternal soul. He swallowed hard, trying to come to grips with what this meant. His future was set now. From here he would go to Arakajime and on to a different, higher stakes fight. He vowed that, if he was to be the winner, he would do it without taking another life. Redemption was in order. t.s. wood, the sleepy art kid Jaw set, the young woman charged at her opponent. Her long braid flapped behind her as she lashed out with her katana, pushing the muscular, middle-aged man backwards a few feet. He swung his spear at her knees, but she nimbly jumped to avoid it, kicking it to the side with the sole of her waraji-clad feet that protruded from her flowing, black hakama. The man snarled in anger, and called out wordless sounds as he raised his spear once more and ran at his opponent, only to quickly find himself on the dusty ground in shock, his shoulder sliced open in four different places and his wrist twisted the wrong way. Blood dribbled down his green and silver haori and formed a rippling puddle beside him. The girl pointed her blood-stained katana at his lowered face."Well?" said Sakanako. The man sighed. "You have my b-best wishes in... in r-representing our clan," he stuttered, staring up at Sakanako with a look of defeat about his face. Sakanako smiled, feeling smug. "You truly put up a good fight. Perhaps next time, it shall be you to go ahead to the Kurasu," she said, walking away from the fighting grounds in the center of the city. Onlookers scowled. "That gloat! Sakanako always showed off like this. You'd actually think that she'd bow to Gosoku and the judges before she left, but noooo, that girl's too high strung!" whispered a plump man to his friend. Sakanako heard this, and spun around to glare at the him. "Shut up! I'm going to get some bandages and herbs for his cuts, insolent man!" she spat out, and stepped through the crowd to grab a small woven basket that was sitting next to a weaponry shed. Sakanako quickly checked its contents to be sure that nothing had been stolen, then made her way back through the crowd to kneel next to Gosoku. "Sit straight. Keeping your shoulder up will slow the bleeding." Gosoku did as he was told, wincing as Sakanako rubbed a greenish mush into the wounds that she had produced from a small bottle, pressing directly on them to stop the flow of blood. Gingerly, she ripped off a large strip of linnen from a spool inside the basket and tied it securely around Gosoku's shoulder. She spit on her hands profusely, wetting them thouroughly, then wiped them on a cotton towel, ridding her fingers of the man's blood. "Ugh! That's disgusting!" said some of the bystanders, while others scorned, "She should try to at least act like a woman! The way she struts around, you'd think that she thought of herself as having all the privelages and respect as a man, no less." Sakanako heard every word of the villiagers' joshes and sneers, but payed them no heed. She finished setting Gosoku's wrist between two small boards, then helped him up, his mauve hair slightly pulled out of his topkknot. "You have all just witnessed what should be expected on your behalf, whether on the battlefield or in your homes. Do not shun this girl anymore than you would shun your own child," said Gosoku loudly, clutching his injured wrist. "The battle was honorable, and yet you still do not acknowledge this woman's place," he said, slowly strolling out of the designated combat area. Sakanako smiled inwardly, yet with a sad pang in her stomach as she stuffed her bandages back into their case. Life had always been like this in Midorikuma, the large city of the Mizu clan. The females were suppressed to mere houshold duties, while the males were free to do as they pleased. Sakanako was probably the first woman in years to rise against these restraining standards, never once thinking of receding back to fill the position of being married off, leaving her parents' riches to her husband. "Gosoku, that girl dealt you a blow too many in the head." Sakanako pounced on this last remark. "In case you didn't notice, I never once hit him above the neck, you blind old man!" She stood finally, then dashed away from the main city, into the outskirts, and finally away from the civilization to the dense forest. She wove her way through the foliage, jumping and stepping over snakes, chipmunks, rocks and bushes until she came to a clearing. A clear spring beckoned to Sakanako, its waters glistening like crystal. She knew this clearing and its spring well- it was where she came to bathe, where she ran to when scared or upset, where she had recieved much of her training from her brother, Ichiro, and where she always came to think and prepare herself for battle. Withought another thought, Sakanako unfastened the chest armor of silvery, steel scales, untied her hakama, and stripped off her quarter-sleeved white kimono jacket that was decorated with fine, blue outlines of waves. She removed her waraji and tabi, casting them aside to lie in a heap with the rest of her clothing. Sakanako didn't care if she looked vulnerable while only in white, thin, linnen shorts and an equally thin undershirt. After removing her dark brown hair from its restraint in the taut, high braid, she threw herself into the waters, feeling the cool, silky sensation of being immersed in liquid tingle up her spine. "Finally..." She dove under the water and opened her eyes, watching the twisting, undulating paterns of light dancing on the bottom of the spring. This was where she truly felt like a significant part of the world. The water that legend said gave birth to the first of the Mizu clan was everywhere; it rained from the sky, it crashed against the beach, it flowed in rapids through mighty rivers, and it was surrounding Sakanako at that very moment. This clearing held everything in balance, all the clans were represented here. Blustering through the treetops were gusts of wind- the swift and untamed Kaze. The rustling of the leaves caused creeping shadows to shift and scurry about on the forest floor- the illusive Kage. If the shadow moved away and left them in the open, bright red lizards with the personality and color of fire scampered to find another hiding place- many said that lizards and snakes were kin of the Ryu. Each of the things living and existing here had a soul- the complex Tamashii. In the winter, snow fell from the sky above the forest, decorating the forest with shimmers and glistens- the pride of the Yuki. With snowfall often came thunder, making its presence known to all- the mighty Kaminari. But if there was no water- no Mizu clan -things would fall apart. Trees would not grow to create shadows, the lizards would not be able to hide from predators, there would be no water to freeze into snow, no clouds to produce thunder, there would never be another sea-breeze; the air would remain still, and everything that housed its own soul would cease to exist, including their spirits. This world needed the Mizu clan, and Sakanako would not let them forget it. "I will revenge Ichiro's death! No one shall forget his name, and the Mizu clan shall be revered!" Sakanako said out loud, treading water. Her older brother had perished during the previous Kurasu, and never recieved a proper burial. Every representative of each clan had still been in the Kurasu when someone pushed him... 'They could have saved him... they could have pulled him up, but they didn't! They all just let him fall off of that cliff onto the rocks!' "The other clans... for letting my brother perish, I shall have my vengance!" Sakanako slammed her fist into the water, sending droplets into the air. "For this war- for the death of my brother -I will win the Kurasu!" she shouted to the heavens, water running down her face. "I WILL MAKE THEM SEE WHAT CAN HAPPEN!" Sakanako dove under the water again. 'But wait... was the non-elemental still in the competition when Ichiro died?' At this thought, Sakanako burst up from the water. Maybe she had one less enemy than she thought in these times of war. ~*Sayuri Ayame swept from the tournament grounds with her opponent half-dead in the centre, being cared for by the Tamashii doctors. It would usually bother her to hurt someone, especially one of the Tamashii, but in this case, she had no regrets. She was able to see his soul and see the pain that ran through it with every strike. He had hidden his dark secret in the core of his soul where no other Tamashii could see. It had pained her and sickened her to see the brutality his victims had to face and the little remorse he felt for them. As much as she hated revenge, she knew that there was always a darkening of the heart that needed to be released in the face of hatred. Revenge was something that would always exist and some turned to it, using up all their energy- sometimes their whole lives- for that one moment. But a fleeting feeling it was and revenge was a cycle that had to be broken. The observers, the Tamashii crowd, watched her walking away both in awe but with little surprise. There was hardly anything good in being a child prodigy but prodigious she was and there was no stopping someone like Ayame if her will was set. Ayame sheathed her silver wazikashi with a slick sound of metal against the casing. Ayame's white kimono swayed around her and she kept her hands clasped before her, hidden in the long sleeves that reached almost to the ground. She bowed to her mentor and friend making her long dark hair that would fall about her waists flow to the ground, brushing the soft snow. She sat below the tree that glowed and shimmered with life and energy. She, like all Tamashii, was blind to the world in the sense that nothing was solid in her sight, and everything she saw, she saw with the eyes of her soul. The world was made up of tiny energy molecules that glowed and worked with and against each other to create substance. Hues of every colour moved and swirled constantly and the Tamashii were able to interpret what they saw so they knew what everything was and what it would look like to any other person. To the Tamashii, the world was always a beautiful place and there was no need for despair. Ayame spoke first. "I have won." Mira nodded. She was an aged but still beautiful woman who sat and listened to the world, watching everything. Mira had the most beautiful soul any Tamashii had the honour of seeing. She smiled and her soul glowed brighter. "I knew you would. And I knew what you would see." "So you knew he was abusing women around the village?" Ayame asked in horror. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?" "I have my reasons, Ayame. And I knew you would be fighting him." Ayame sat in front of Mira and placed her hands in her lap. "Are you ready for the Arakajime?" Mira asked. "The Arakajime? You mean the Kurasu, the tournament..." Mira shook her head. "What is the Kurasu to you? If somebody is deserving of the Supreme title then you will give it to them. I say this not out of pride, this is the truth of the Tamashii and our abilities. We are not unhuman but we are more human than the rest of them. The Arakajime is what you should be preparing for, that is where the real events will take place." Ayame watched the blossom petals rise in the wind and then fall again, sending a soft fragrance that she could see up into the surrounding air. "This is the only time the clans ever meet like this," Ayame said thoughtfully. "The clan wars may be a result from this, the tournament, have they ever considered that? They battle for power." Mira shrugged. "Yes, they battle for power, and we take part to make sure the wrong clan doesn't win. The winner takes away more than just a title of supremacy. There is also more to the war than you would first assume. It goes back in history and is repeated by the descendants." Mira paused thoughtfully and shook her head. "Anyway, we are always the last to hold the clan tournament and we are always the first to arrive. The other clans have already held their tournaments. We have only a week left for you to prepare. Now that you have won, I will tell you about the winners from the other clans who I have all seen fight and win." Mira was about to continue when she suddenly turned to the large archway, the entrance to the Tamashii village. Ayame could feel the presence before she turned to look in the same direction. A young girl by the name of Teri was running towards them in her swirling blue kimono, carrying something in her hands. Teri's history was not something the Tamashii liked to remember and they all did the best they could to heal her. Both her parents had died in a clan war and Teri had become introverted and lifeless. The only people who succeeded in healing her in the end were Mira, followed by Ayame who had become her spirit sister. It was an incredible thing to become someone's spirit sister or brother. It was an unbreakable bond that would last until either one died. Ayame looked at her palm and the 'x' scar that had been marked on it one year earlier. Teri had received the cross into her palm without crying out. Ayame had then received the same in her right hand and joined palms with her. The mingling of blood had been a symbol of their sharing and part of their spirit also leaked into the other. Many Tamashii had done the same thing and Mira had both palms marked, but sadly, both her spirit sister and brother had died. With the forming of their bond, Ayame was able to share the pain that Teri was carrying. She had been in complete despair and when Ayame had become Spirit sisters with her, the restoration of Teri's full spirit was able to commence. Teri fell to her knees on the grass in front of Ayame and fell onto her into a tight hug. Ayame fell against the tree in the embrace, enjoying the warmth energy that emanated from the girl. "Nii-san! Sister," Teri called in delight. She pressed the strange box into Ayame's hands, "For you," she said and then went to greet Mira who sat watching in mirth. Teri sat in Mira's lap as Ayame turned the box over in her hands. With her sight, she was able to interpret the outside: a wooden box with a painting of a crane amongst the reeds. She pressed her finger to something on the side that was strange and swirling with energy. It was a latch on the side. "What is it?" Ayame asked, unable to make out what all the strange objects were inside. She looked up at Mira and Teri. "Open it!" Teri cried in excitement. Ayame flicked it open and then the little objects inside began to work with each other, swirling and turning to mechanically create another type of energy: sound. The tinkling melody of the music box reached her ears and stirred something in her soul. She watched in wonder and smiled. "It's beautiful, Teri. Arigato gozaimasu. Where…where did you get this?" "Shh…it's a secret!" Teri whispered with a finger over her lip. Mira laughed and winked at Ayame knowing it was impossible for them not to see. But Ayame was able to keep secrets well. *** Ayame bowed one last time and took the sword from Mira's hands. Its sheath was decorated with waves and to her eyes they continually moved. Ayame said one last goodbye and then looked up at the large white house in the distance. Mira watched and said, "I will tell her goodbye for you. If she were to see you leave, she would not let you go." Mira smiled, giving Ayame a firm hug. Ayame bowed to the driver and stepped into the horse-drawn carriage where a man was sitting, waiting. She sat down and then pulled back the curtain to wave to Mira. This was the first time Ayame had ever left the village or would be separated from Teri so far. Elementals rarely left their own village without some special reason and many, if they weren't from the Head family, were not even allowed to leave with out permission. Ayame turned to the man, feeling his eyes on her as the carriage began to rock and sway as it moved. He was a little surprised but he had been bracing himself for this moment. It was the first time he had ever met a Tamashii. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "You may understand that non-Tamashii will always be taken aback by the Tamashii eyes of white and many will even mistake you for being blind. But I am aware you see more then we could imagine." He was wearing a formal black samurai robe with a small red crest of the dragon embroidered on the straight collar and he had a katana resting on his lap. "I have always wanted to meet a Tamashii. You are the only clan to be at peace with all the other clans. I am of the Ryu. I have been sent to guard you by the tournament officials. I don't really understand why, if you'll forgive me. You are the winner of your clan's tournament so I don't think you will really need me." Ayame laughed softly. "I will need your company. It is more than anyone could be so kind as to offer." His heart beat slightly faster, Ayame could see, and then his face began to heat up. He turned to look out the window; both mystified and mortified knowing she could see into his soul. He gripped the handle of his sword and tried to distract himself with the passing view. "What is your name?" Ayame asked, already knowing the answer. "Kura, Ryoko." "And you have been assigned to me until the end of the Arakajime?" she asked. "Until the end of the tournament when you are safely home. It seems that you and the non-Elemental are the only representatives that are being guarded. I have taken the oath of neutral guardianship and for now I am sworn to no clan. True samurai do not break their pledges." "I understand," Ayame said simply. His soul was complex but easy to read. She watched in interest, one of the first non-Tamashii souls she was able to study. His hopes and dreams were limited by his disbelief in himself because he was born a branch family member. He was capable of more than he was ever going to know. Did all non-Tamashii limit their own capabilities this way? "There is so much about the Tamashii and the other clans that we don't know," he began thoughtfully. "Can you really see everything?" he asked. "Almost everything," she replied, lacing her fingers together on her lap. ** Ayame had one week until the Arakajime. Before this time she was to go to all the other Elemental villages and look around. It was the first time she would see all of them and of course, a stranger would not be welcomed with open arms into the secretive clans. She manipulated the energy of her soul and was unrecognisable from the other Yuki as she arrived at the village of snow first. The carriage and Ryoko were waiting a little further away. The first thing she noticed was the sheet of white glistening snow that covered the entrance, the ground and every house that occupied the village. She shivered slightly and walked forward in her white kimono; taking on a similar form to the first Yuki guard she took notice of. She copied only his pale blue eyes, the symbol of the Yuki on his clothes and his resistance to the cold. She walked through the archway without being given a second glance. She marvelled at the large houses and the snow that fell everywhere. Everything glistened with frost and children were able to play in snow wearing only a thin kimono. The people walked with a sense of pride that gave them grace. Most of them were as pure as the snow they loved. Ayame's attention was quickly diverted to a tall man walking towards a carriage. He was one of the head family members. There was something in him that Ayame didn't like on first sight and she refused to look any further. She turned away and looked up at a snow covered tree. Above that there was a balcony where a swirling spirit she came to recognise was standing. Mira had told her briefly about him: Yuki, Kori. The son of snow and the wielder of the ice blade. His abilities were somewhat mysterious and he far surpassed any of the other Yuki. Ayame turned and left the Yuki village with a sense of peace. The Mizu village was not as peaceful as the Yuki village but it was more relaxed and cheerful. Water covered the ground and as she walked, her feet made ripples in the layer of water that immersed the streets. She smiled and loved to watch the energy that members of the Mizu clan used to create fountains in the middle of the streets and waterfalls that spilled out from rooftops and down into puddles below. Rainbows were made by the mist of water that rose up into the air. She wasn't able to find the representative of the clan but she had been told about her. The strong willed Sakanako Mizu- someone Ayame could take a strong liking to if Sakanako was willing to break down her wall of distrust. The village of the Ryu was large and extravagant. Its houses were built of the finest architecture and the Ryu had spirits of courage and strength. It was obvious that this clan was the richest compared to all the other clans. This time, Ryoko accompanied her as they walked through. The houses were large and were spaced out over a large area and garden. They passed a large dojo built of the finest oak and were able to see the intense training the Ryu samurai went through. They found Kyari Ryu, the Dragon clan representative, training in a dojo by herself. She was fierce in spirit but was slightly darkened by her need for vengeance. She didn't notice Ayame or Ryoko as they left the entrance and went back to the carriage outside. The village of the Kaze clan had their houses built on the slant of a mountain where the most wind could reach them. It whistled through the streets and blew every way possible. Ayame walked through and then stopped. A carriage passed by and from it, a stern man eyed her interestedly. He was a head family member of the Kaze and was apparently on his way to somewhere important. Ayame turned away even though he hadn't recognised her as an outsider. She just didn't like his presence. From what she was told, Ringo Nakamura was from this village and he had won by killing the opponent but had made a vow to not do the same when he came to the Arakajime. She wondered if it would be that easy. Ayame couldn't help but marvel at the incredible energy that erupted from the skies over the Kaminari village. Overhead there was a constant storm that rumbled and kept the village in a darkened state. The storm was always brewing above them and she walked through careful not to touch anything. Nearly every house had a metal conductor over it, keeping the house swirling with a constant energy surge. When lightning struck, the Kaminari barely noticed. Each person had electricity running through them that at times, would light up their eyes. The sound of rolling thunder was always close by. To any normal person, one touch of the Kaminari could prove fatal. Clea Alymara, the one with a secret and shadow in her. How she would take to the other Representatives, Ayame wondered. Ayame didn't stay in the Kage village for long. Her week of wandering the country was over. This village was the closest to the Arakajime but other than that, the feeling that hung in the air was dark and unwelcoming. She fought hard to keep from being overwhelmed by the darkness. Their entire village was mainly poor and shadows of darkness hung everywhere. From dark corners came the piercing eyes of abandoned Kage children and darting shadows: ninja members of the clan would jump back and forth on the rooftops. Ayame moved to walk down an alleyway, feeling the need to escape quickly but her attention was suddenly diverted to a presence she felt long before she saw. Down another street, there was Kyo Geseki. He stopped walking and turned to her, staring at her for a long while before she broke eye contact and walked away quickly. How dark his soul was, she could see, and knew that he was one she would have to watch carefully. When Ayame was in the carriage, she turned the musical box over in her hands and then the 'x' on her hand began to heat up. Ayame looked around in confusion. It felt almost as if Teri was close by. It must have been the bond they shared. She wouldn't know how it would hold over long distances but she hoped that Teri would be alright. Ayame would not visit the village where Shizuka Kiseki was. She didn't know where that was anyway since there were many non-Elemental villages dispersed over the country. Mira had told her that he had forgotten his entire past because his heart had needed to forget everything it had seen. Ayame could trust him though. She would not see him until she arrived at the Arakajime. Mira mentioned that one day Shizuka's past and the power that he carried would one day make sense in her eyes. But everything was to be kept a secret no matter what. No matter what. mirror on the wall Under the sun that appeared to have rested itself upon the horizon in Kimazo, Kyo crouched on a rooftop with a chaperon above the square in the street where the non-Elementals were holding their tournament. He shifted his eyes as his overlapping analysis of the street and above folded over in his mind. Hikedo, home of the Kage clan, was close in range to the non-Elemental village, and Aruka Kage, the head of the Kage had ordered Kyo to watch one of the non-Elemental proceedings in their tournament, and had sent a chaperon by the name of Koeto with him to make sure Kyo followed his orders. He wasn’t one to take orders from anybody, however he thought watching a non-Elemental fight their way to the Arakajime would be rather entertaining. Although he had thought wrong.From behind the black material that covered the bottom half of his face he watched in boredom as a boy fought in the square against an older one. He lifted his eyes to the stars that were just visible in the dimly lit sky. “I’ll end this fight soon if he doesn’t already kill him!” Koeto hissed, exhaling the smoke he had drawn in from his cigarette. Kyo ignored him and thought bitterly in a few short days he’d be sent to some school. He didn’t care for it or anything. He lived for one purpose. If he had no purpose it would be the same as death, and with that thought death was something he didn’t fear. He had been a poor boy, unwanted and pathetic as any other that walked the streets of Hikedo, and grew to be a spoiled child- treated with a care, but also caution. It wasn’t unusual that as a child, assassins were hired from the Kage clan to take his life. It frightened villagers even more so when Kyo would return home to Aruka unharmed. He closed his eyes taking in the wind that washed over him and the floor of the street, sending the sand-like dirt into the air. He opened his eyes aware of the faint vibrational waves hitting against him in the rhythm of a beating heart. Had someone from the Kage village hired an assassin to assassinate him? He analysed the streets once more and within three seconds he found the one who captured his attention. It was a boy a year younger than him walking up the street toward the tournament. He studied his appearance and status in power carefully, but couldn’t identify the frequent waves that came from him. He had felt waves before of those who hunted him, but none as odd as his. None that would repeatedly give off waves of energy this foolishly. He looked up into the sky, and then back at the boy. 'A non-Elemental…' He watched him stop beside an old man, taking in the street and the things around him. Impatient and bored, Koeto slightly released his energy ready to step in on someone’s match. The boy, whom Kyo had been watching, turned his eyes to the rooftop where they sat. “Don’t…” Kyo warned, and wondered whether it was by coincidence the boy felt the energy his chaperon released. The boy’s vibrational waves increased in power, and steadily it was brought down to normal. “Fine,” he muttered, catching eye of the boy staring up at them, and turned to watch the fight. The boy’s eyes turned to his after looking at Koeto. They stared narrowly at each other. Kyo’s unevenly long dark brown and silver streaked hair blew over his dark and empty eyes. He listened intently to the old man that had noticed the boy staring up at them. ‘The Kage… Probably came to see what fool will join them this year.’ Kyo’s smirk went unseen from under the black material. ‘Hey, are you joining the tournament? Oh well, good luck to you. The name’s Ken.’ ‘Shizuka.’ Shizuka, huh? Kyo thought. There was a sudden excitement in the crowd; the chatter increased. He looked over and saw another person step into the square, while keeping a close watch on Shizuka. The fight began. The boy who won the last match shouted in anger to his opponent. ‘I won’t, I can’t. I can’t lose to you. For Mimi I will kill you. I won’t ever let you win again. You and your family have taken everything from me. Mimi, not Mimi.’ He saw the old man nudge Shizuka. ‘I bet you anything that Kai’s father Shiro had something to do with the death of that boy’s parents. As an honoured samurai, Shiro has high influence on the government. No wonder Eitoku wants revenge.’ Kyo looked over at Eitoku apathetically. He felt no sympathy for him. He didn’t understand and couldn’t care less if he died. Minutes later Eitoku was on his knees. The crowed shouted out to Kai in approval of Eitoku’s death. Next to him, Koeto moved to stand but Kyo held out a hand, not letting him move any further. “What?” he hissed, “This fight is over!” “No. It isn’t.” Koeto looked at him, irritated, and took out a cigarette and lit it. Kai lifted his sword above the boy’s bare neck. Kyo’s eyes turned to Shizuka. He could hear the shifting of his feet over the gravel. He noticed also that the vibrational waves increased slightly. As Kai’s blade cut through the air Shizuka swiftly cut through the crowd and held back the blade that was inches from the boy’s neck. Instead of Eitoku, Shizuka took his place to seek his revenge. They fought. Kyo studied his movements; the energy in the vibrations grew to an unbearable state. “What is this? You feel that?” Koeto asked, but he didn’t answer. It pounded painfully in his ears. It was like the energy inside him longed to be let out. He didn’t understand it until he saw him flinch before his finishing move. His eyes somewhat widened in realisation. He understood. The vibrations subdued to normal. Kyo watched from the rooftop as a startled Shizuka stood, surrounded by a crowd of admirers. He looked up at the rooftop where Kyo and Koeto sat, swinging his leg that hung over the edge. He took the cigarette Koeto offered, inhaled, and looked down into the street, seeing Kai and his highly respected father walk by. He exhaled and flicked the cigarette into the street, hitting Kai sharply in the face. Kyo looked at Koeto and nodded for their leave, descending into the shadows. From the shadows in the trees they made their way to Hikedo. The air whipped through his hair as he passed through the darkness. He looked over and saw the rooftops of his home town and jumped out onto them at high speed towards Aruka’s home. Peasants in the streets look up at his dark figure swept over them. He jumped down into the street, alone. At the end of the street was a large white house; head clan-member, Aruka’s home. He looked to the stars, waiting reluctantly for Koeto to catch up. His eyes turned down a side street, aware of a woman staring at him. He could feel she was pure in mind. His eyes narrowed in dislike as she swept away out of view. ‘What is a Tamashii doing here?’ Kyo began to walk ahead, aware of his chaperon being nearby. Seconds later he heard Koeto land from a rooftop and run to catch up with him. At the arched gate of Aruka’s home, two guards leant on the either side. One looked up from the ground and straightened himself immediately, giving the impression of being frightened. He saw Kyo walking toward them. It was known Kyo had a bad habit of killing the front guards. “Ai!” the guard hissed to the other. Ai looked up at him, irritation clearly in his face, but it changed immediately as his eyes fell on the shadowed figure walking toward the gate. He straightened. Kyo looked coldly at him and slid out his kunai, pointing the sharp knife directly between Ai’s forehead. “Sorry, si-!” The words barely left his mouth before he collapsed into a crimson pool that leaked from his head. Kyo crouched over the corpse, retrieved his dagger, and wiped the blood off on the guard’s uniform. “Kyo!” said Koeto. Kyo looked around sharply. Koeto took a step back, aware if he said another word he would join Ai permanently in the shadows of the underworld. “Geez,” Koeto muttered, scowling at the ground in annoyance, knowing there was nothing he could do. “Oi! clean this mess !” he then told the guard who gazed wide-eyed at the body on the floor. “Hai.” They walked up the path toward the door, leaving their thongs outside it before entering. Up a hall, up a staircase, down a corridor and into Aruka’s office they went. Kyo slammed the sliding door behind him. Aruka stood outside his office on the balcony, smoking from a pipe “Tadaima, Aruka-sama,” bowed Koeto. “Welcome… That was quiet an entrance,” he said, before looking at them over his shoulder. “How did the non-Elemental proceedings go?” He walked into the office and picked up a scroll from his desk, holding it in front for Kyo to take. He took it, but didn’t open it. “Boring,” Kyo answered simply. He had no intention of notifying him about Shizuka, or the Tamashii that walked the Kage streets. “As was expected,” he paused to tip some ash into the ashtray. “Your details to our mission,” he said, eyeing the scroll. “When you reach Arakajime… commence mission.” He turned dismissingly to the balcony. “Yes,” Koeto bowed and slid the door open for them to leave. “Leave us, Koeto,” Aruka demanded. He obeyed, looked from one to the other, and left. “Walk with me,” Aruka said. Kyo followed him into the Seki garden. It was lit up with lanterns. He leant against a nearby tree. Aruka sat himself on the soft greyish green grass that folded over in the passing winds. The air was warm and cool, pushing every now and then his hair in front of his eyes. What looked like vines that hung from the tree he leant against, swayed also. If he imagined his surroundings were beautiful, he might have sensed a feeling of peace. “What?” Kyo said after Aruka continued to sit and say nothing. “War,” he spoke with his eyes closed in meditation. “What about it?” he sneered. “Which clan do you think holds glory to their name?” he asked. “Doesn’t matter to me.” Aruka ignored him. “Don’t you think it’s our time to hold recognition? Do we not deserve it?” he growled. “You are Kage’s supreme card over all clans. You will win. You will put your life on the line for us. Don’t screw up… After all, your life depends on whether you cooperate… or not.” His eyes snapped opened to see Kyo’s back walking back toward the house. Death was something he didn’t fear, he thought as he lay down on his futon. Acknowledgement, glory or praise was something he had no use for. One thing mattered; purpose. And his purpose lead him to the Arakajime, where he had his own plans: to confirm his existence… his purpose. He would leave to Arakajime at dawn. He turned his head and stared at the scroll he had left on his pillow. He took it, uncoiled it, and read, his eyes racing back and forth across the paper. He would follow Aruka’s orders, that way his plans would go unnoticed. He coiled it, sealed it, placed it onto the wooden floorboards beside his bed, closed his eyes and sank into the dark shadow in the corner of his room, and slept in the shadow. If anyone came to assassinate him tonight, lives would surely be taken away. *** “Our son lives up to Kage, Satoshi’s name. Aruka won’t refuse us. Our lives are going to change, Kohana. Our son is the key to our problems-” Kyo listened, watching silently around behind a wall into the kitchen where his parents sat. “We were blessed with a god, one who is worthy of Kage, Satoshi’s name. A blood worthier than Aruka’s,” his father went on. “We will no longer live in this poor excuse of a house. We may even be rich, something we’ve never had. Money,” his mother put in. His father nodded with a smile. “That boy is crucial to our happiness,” he said. Kyo’s eyes narrowed. He stepped into the light of the kitchen. His parents were going to use him for their own benefits. They turned to him in surprise, and his mother stood. She hugged him. “I’m sorry baby, did we wake you?” She let go and faced him only inches away from his, waiting for his answer. Kyo reached out and put his hand on her cheek. She smiled. His turned cold. He saw himself in her eyes before breaking her neck. She fell to the floor. For the first time he felt as though it was his first real breath of life. His father stood, backing away into the corner, horror and fear clear in his expression. Kyo looked down at the floor. His father’s shadow was before his feet. He crouched and looked up into his father’s eyes apathetically, and placed his hand over them. A sounding of a body collapsing echoed in his head. He awoke. §§ CompBroke gone till fixed She was running again; faster and faster until everything around her seemed to be swirling and shaking. She cried out, but her cries were drowned out by the barking of dogs behind her. She ran faster, but still they followed, straining their necks to reach her, and nipping at her heels. She glanced back and screamed. They were no longer dogs, but wolves. Hungry black wolves with evil, yellow eyes. Gasping for breath, her legs fell from under her, and immediately, the wicked pack swarmed over her like a dark cloud, tearing and gnashing and gnawing and snapping, until the light slowly faded from comprehension and all was black and empty. And, even then, the nightmarish growling of the wolves remained…Clea awoke suddenly, and found herself staring at the stars. The moonlit night was peaceful and quiet, and she tried vainly to slow her breathing. The night wasn’t warm, but she was damp with sweat. Running her long fingers through her ebony hair, she tried to calm her thoughts and clear her mind. Her dreams were getting so confusing lately, that she was having a hard time distinguishing between memory and nightmare. 'Was it a nightmare?' She asked herself. 'Or a recollection of something real that happened long ago?' She had the vague remembrance of running for her life, fleeing from something gruesome and terrible, but nothing more came to mind. Her companion, Aiko, shifted beneath the covers by her side. "Clea?" Aiko's voice pierced the night's silence like a sword cutting through satin. "What's wrong?" "Nothing…" Clea sighed. She felt hesitant to share it with anyone. Until she could discover what it meant, it was her burden alone. Clea thrust aside the single blanket she and Aiko shared and stood slowly. "Where are you going?" Aiko yawned. Clea motioned towards the small pile of embers aglow at their feet and mumbled her answer. "I'm going to get more firewood." Aiko shrugged and rolled back over, and soon Clea could hear her steady breathing as she drifted back to sleep. Clea wandered silently into the woods on the opposite side of camp and began to gather dry branches and pieces of bark that would be used on the small campfire, even though there was already a fairly large pile of wood beside it already. She wasn't going back to sleep, so she might as well make good use of her time. The woods were dark and oppressive, and every now and then, an unknown animal would stir not far away, and an owl would hoot it's haunted call. But Clea was not afraid, for she knew the woods like the back of her hand, and all the secrets and hazards it held. She knew which plants were poisonous to the touch, and which were capable of healing. She knew where snakes and other dangerous creatures dwelled, and also which watering hole the doe and it's fawn preferred. But, although she loved the woods and all that was in it, her real passion was of the sky… Carrying her now large bundle of dry wood in her arms, she returned to camp and quietly applied the dry wood to the coals, being careful not to reawaken Aiko. Then she walked away from the camp and woods; into the opposite direction, where there were nothing but open plains, with ridges of purple mountains rising up in the distance. She loved the sky! The sky was beautiful. On some days, it was wonderfully clear, with shafts of creamy sunlight, filtering through the clouds, and onto the trees below, but on others, it was a raging inferno of flashing lightning streaks and booming thunder. Clea liked good weather, as it was good for travelling, but she loved the storms. The storms invoked a passion within her and made her feel on fire. She remembered the day she had first discovered that she was of the Kaminari. The same day she had been betrayed… Clea stared far into the horizon, where the sun was just beginning to start it's long trek upwards, and the surrounding clouds were turning a light rose color. The question came, unbidden. Was Goro staring up at the sky right now? Did he realize that she was searching for him, searching to destroy him? Only a few years ago, she had stared apon a sunrise such as this one, with Her younger sister, Marjan, and Goro; The only two friends she had in the world. But on that same morning, she had lost them both. 'Goro!' Her heart cried out silently to the sky. 'Why did you do it? Why did you betray me?' Regrets came swiftly, followed by bitter anger. If only she hadn't brought Marjan with her. If she had left Marjan in the safety of their home, she would still be alive today, watching this sunrise with her. But then, if it wasn't for Marjan, she herself, probably would've died… The hated memories rushed at her, dizzying her with each impact. "I am an assassin." Goro's words whirled around her repeatedly. "I have been waiting for this moment for a long time." Clea remembered cradling Marjan's limp body in her arms, and of Goro's triumphant laugh. She had felt something stir inside of her then, something mysterious and unfamiliar, yet extremely strong and powerful. Her eyes blazed, and with a scream of rage and despair, lightning swirled around her, flying off into all directions, as she did not know how to control it. She remembered Goro's look of shock before he ran away. Clea had never forgiven herself, for letting him escape. 'I will find you, Goro!' She had vowed. 'I will hunt you down.' But, as of yet, she had done nothing. After the death of her sister, Clea had dedicated her life to learning how to fight. She had sworn that she would never be as defenseless or helpless as she was on that painful morning when the life of her sister was taken. Clea had advanced quickly, and soon was among the top warriors in the Kaminari. Already, she was heading towards the Arakajime, determined that she would be victorious and go on to the Kurasu. She was determined that when she and Goro were once more face to face, she would not fail again. The joyful twitter of a songbird brought her back to reality. A fragment of the golden sun, peered over the top of the distant mountains. It was dawn, and time to resume her journey. If she wanted to make it to the Kaminari village before sundown, she would have to start immediately. 36 hours later Clea's sidestepped quickly, avoiding her opponent's thrust with a dagger. Catching his wrist, she swung it around expertly, cracking it down over her left shoulder. Her adversary let the dagger drop to the floor with a cry of pain, and turning, she side-kicked him twice in the ribs, before he fell to the floor. She had just eliminated seven competitors in quick succession, without any use of her dagger. Why did these awkward and inexperienced commoners even imagine that they could enter the same enclosure with an Elemental, and escape without several broken bones? Obviously, they were inapt to do other than leave the ring with shame to have their wounds wrapped and bandaged. Clea spun around and faced the judging booth; her eyes cold. "Is this all you can conjure?" She spat unfashionably. Several of the judges frowned. And one, a white-haired, dignified man in a black and white kimono, stood ceremoniously. "You have yet one last foe you must face, before you pass the entrance exam. If you are the champion of this round, you will go on to the Arakajime." Saying nothing, Clea stood steadfastly, her face emotionless, as she waited for her last adversary. A man soon entered the enclosure. His long hair was silver, and drawn back in a single braid. His skin was worn and wrinkled, but it wasn't his age that caught her attention, but rather his eyes. They were white and unseeing. 'What kind of game are they playing?' She questioned herself. 'This man is blind!' The man stood patiently, waiting for her to strike first, but Clea hesitated. 'Would it be honorable to fight one so helpless?' She threw the first punch at his face, which he dodged promptly. Clea kicked towards his knees, trying to take him down. 'If I could get him on the ground,' she thought to herself. 'Then I may still be able to win, and it won't hurt him too much.' Her ribcage exploded in sudden pain, and she realized that he had elbowed her in the ribs. Slightly taken aback, Clea sent out a hail of strikes towards his chest, all of which he blocked easily. There was no doubt in her mind now, this man was definitely not blind. Clea immediately gave a hooked kick to the back of his head, followed swiftly by an assailment of aggressive punches and strikes to his face and body. The man retreated slightly, and Clea felt an untimely sense of victory, but seconds later, she found herself on the ground. She cursed under her breath. As quick as a lightning bolt, she swung her leg around, hitting him square in the stomach as she stood. He doubled over momentarily. Seeing this, she spun and elbowed the upper part of face, sending his head plummeting backwards. She opened her hand in a knife-like shape, and struck it on his temples. The man stumbled backwards slightly, giving Clea just the amount of time she needed. In a single, smooth move, she dropped to the floor, swinging her legs across. The man's feet were shoved out from under him, and he fell to the floor with a thud. The battle was won. Clea turned and faced the judges once more, and they nodded in approval. The man in the black and white kimono stood again. "You, Clea Alymara, have passed the entrance exam by defeating all other foes. You have been accepted into the Arakajime training school, where you will have your abilities increased and expanded, and you will learn further about the enemies you will soon face. Congratulations." The old man, who was trying to stand, motioned to her slightly. Clea reached out a hand, helped him to his feet and waited for him to speak. "Alymara, take this." he whispered softly, pressing a small piece of parchment into her palm. She nodded, and the man left. 'Your sense of honor is admirable, but overconfidence can destroy the mightiest of warriors. Never underestimate an opponent.' Clea refolded the piece of parchment, and put it away to ponder over later. "Who was that man?" She asked Aiko later that evening after telling her about the strange note. "Which one?" Aiko asked nonchalantly. "You fought many opponents today." "The old man with white eyes." "Ah…" Aiko nodded knowingly. "His name is Ju, Kaemon." "He is not of the Kaminari, is he?" Aiko shook her head. "He is of the Tamashii. He can read souls." Intrigued, Clea waited expectantly for her to continue. She had heard a little about the Tamashii and their strange ways, but, until a few hours ago, she had never met one. The Tamashii had always seemed so mysterious to her. "He participated in the Kurasu, only because he wanted to prove the champion." Aiko continued. "Kaemon could have won if he had wanted to, as he is highly advanced in the Tamashii arts, and knows every man's weakness, but that is not the Tamashii way." "What is their way, then?" Clea asked curiously. 'What kind of person would willingly participate in a battle that they did not want to win?' "To observe and determine whether the opponent is worthy of victory or not." Aiko smiled. "Kaemon apparently approved of your heart and intentions, and warned you about the flaw that could keep you from victory." Clea nodded. She had underestimated Kaemon, when he had first entered the ring, and if he had wanted to, he could have used that against her severely. Secretly, she pledged never to make that mistake again. Kythara A week before the Tamashii’s appearance, the Ryú clan had held its final duel. The young leader, Kyari, was to battle the last tournament’s first runner-up. By all appearances, they were evenly matched. Her strength was speed, where his was sheer brute force. Of course she had the edge of having mastered Kaijin, but his family was ranked the highest amid all the branch families, and they were reputed to possess their own legendary skill, one that was said to be the equal of Kaijin, if not better. The fight would be fair this round, when compared to the earlier bouts where they had disposed of their opponents effortlessly through use of common techniques, keeping their exclusive techniques to themselves.The ladies tittered amongst themselves, the young runner-up, Sairasu, being the focus of their conversations. The young men clapped him on the back often, telling him to show the young upstart who was the real champion of the Ryú, though they never mentioned it when she was within earshot. Kyari, on the other hand, was often left alone to her training, uninterrupted and ignored by all save her personal handmaiden cum adviser, after the youth had made it clear she disliked company of most sorts. She had no teacher, preferring to learn the Clan’s numerous swordplays on her own, only going into the large dojo where most of the others trained occasionally, to experience the feeling of combat. She entered the courtyard where the duel was to be held, greeted by the scent of fresh pine, and sunlight filtering through the immaculately trimmed branches, covering the white marble in a detailed patchwork of shadows and light. Kyari stopped in the center, waiting for Sairasu to show himself. And he did appear soon after, accompanied by a few friends who wordlessly settled into the gathered crowd as he strolled into the area designated for the duel. An expectant hush settled over the crowd, with all eyes trained on the would-be combatants. Kyari locked gazes with him, staring into his eyes, trying to fathom the depths of his mind. He matched her stare in terms of intensity, and they stood frozen in their opening stances, hands on the hilts, muscles tense, ready to explode into movement in the blink of an eye, His ever-present smile had since disappeared, his brows drawn together in concentration, while she looked as much a statue of alabaster as she always did. The silence was almost deafening, and when it reached its peak, it was not broken by the clash of steel, as it should have been, but rather by the high-pitched voice of a child, whose words echoed in the silent courtyard, “Why is it so quiet Mother?” All attention immediately swung in their direction, including that of the duelists’. The mother blushed and stammered an apology, before leaving the scene without delay, taking her child with her. A few of the other mothers followed suit, and silence settled over the crowd once more. Kyari and Sairasu resumed their stances, once again matching stares. They broke as one, and in a series of blurring movements rushed towards each other, the swords flashing in the early afternoon sun, colliding with a resounding crash. Their blades locked for a moment, before both broke out of it, each leaping back, surprised at the strength and skill of their opponent. The swords whirled and spun, cutting at each other from every conceivable angle and direction, two streaks of silver entwined in a dance of speed and skill. Every strike was parried or avoided, and every step made looked like part of a choreographed dance. She found herself hard pressed by his strength, for every one of his attacks that she parried left an unpleasant tingling in her arms. And although the common knowledge proclaimed that his skill was strength, they had overlooked his speed. Strength and speed combined definitely gave him an edge over her, and to Kyari’s dismay, she found herself being driven back and on the retreat as he went on the offense, slashing and thrusting. He came on hard and fast all of a sudden, bringing his katana down hard at her head level, and she barely got her blade up to stop the attack in time. Every one of his attacks was always blocked in the nick of time, and when he suddenly delivered a sweeping strike at her middle when she was practically against the wall, the crowd held a collective breath, waiting for him to finish her off. That expectation of his victory was short-lived, however, for she leapt straight up, and came down slashing and thrusting, where he picked off every strike cleanly. The second she landed; he was on her, once again forcing her back. She let down her guard for a moment, feeling the strain of having blocked one too many of his heavy attacks. In that moment, he had whipped his sword across at her neck. Kyari reacted a split-second too slowly, yet his blade missed her throat, but instead hit her sword arm, sending a spray of crimson across the snowy tiles. A murmur rose from the watchers as he drew first-blood, one that continually rose in volume as he continued on the offense. She winced at the pain, and bit down hard on her lip, trying to numb the feeling in her arm. The youth tried calming herself down, forcing away the voices in her head that told her she would lose, and kept her mind clear of all thoughts, ready to leave this battle to her well honed instincts. A light step to the side brought her out of his sword’s range as he swept down on her, and a slight duck of her head made his attack miss. Every strike of his was barely avoided by the smallest of movements, and somehow, although no one mentioned it openly, everyone knew she was using the Clan’s best-kept secret. Her strength nearly fully restored, Kyari went on the offense. She rushed at him, attacking from the sides he never expected, and always seemed to be a step ahead of him, her katana countering his attack before it came, and when he ran towards her, his blade straight out in front of him, the youth used it as a springboard, springing up into the air in the fashion of a cat, before coming down hard and fast, her sword enclosing him in jaws of steel that moved closer with every second. Kyari suddenly changed her attack, lightly running her blade over his knuckles, and the sudden pain made him loosen his grip for a moment. Yet that moment was all she needed, for she thrust out her katana sheath with her other hand, letting his sword slide neatly into the scabbard, before landing, the sudden change of direction from down to right yanking the hilt clean out of his hands. Before he could draw his wakizashi to continue the battle, the tip of her katana was resting against his shirt, at the position of his heart. A moment of silence washed over the crowd, before the head of the panel of judges stood up and clapped, a wide smile on his face, a sure sign of his approval of the fight. The crowd erupted into applause and cheers then, and Sairasu gave her a small grin. “Well fought, and I accept my defeat. And you had better get that wound looked to; I think the cut is a rather deep one.” In a rare show of who she should have been, rather than the marble statue she was now, Kyari offered him a smile in return, and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, before disappearing into the mass of people around them, leaving him surprised and wondering about who she might have been if not for the terrible night when all she had known was taken from her. Five days before Kyari was to leave for the Arakajime, in the middle of the night, the memory of that horrible night eight years ago returned to haunt her in the realm of dreams. She was a seven-year old child once again, in the same room as her older sister. The small lantern in the room had been extinguished only minutes ago, and the only sound was the occasional snore from the sleeping maidservant who attended to both the sisters. She recalled the feeling of security she had then, the feeling that with her father around, there was no threat to life, as she had known it. Then the nightmare began, yanking her from the comfort of her sweet reminiscences. She awoke to the feeling of a warm liquid splashing against her face, the origins of it unknown at that time. Kyari had blinked her eyes then, trying to clear her mind from the haze of sleep that surrounded it. Yet when she finally opened her eyes wide enough to see, she noticed nothing unusual about the room. Her sister and maidservant lay on their mattresses, unmoving, still sound asleep. The fear she had experienced when the liquid touched her skin, however, demanded assurance from somebody that she was safe before she could return to her slumber. The child Kyari had walked over to her maidservant and tried to shake her awake, calling her name out many times. Just as she was about to give up and return to sleep, telling herself it was just her mind playing tricks on her, a sliver of moonlight shone through the thin rice-paper screen. The pastel colored mattresses they slept on was stained with dark patches, and out of curiosity, she had walked over and touched the damp cloth. Her hand came away stained with crimson, and Kyari knew, even in her childlike mind, that her maidservant was dead. How she had gained the knowledge could not be put into exact words, but she knew that she was scared, and she wanted her father to come and hold her. A scream formed in her throat, yet before she could release it, a gloved hand clamped hard over her mouth, with a coppery tang to its taste. The person who had caught her suddenly threw her hard in a corner, and closed in on the child, a katana in hand. The steel was cold against her neck, and a feeling of extreme helplessness washed over her. The loneliness was complete; there was no one she could turn to for comfort now. She whimpered and curled up into a tight little ball in her sleep, still caught in the dream. Kyari’s eyes flew open, rivulets of cold sweat running down the sides of her face and she gasped for breath, managing a strangled cry. Her maid, in the room next door, heard it, and immediately came running. The woman tried waking the youth from her dream, holding her close all the while, as one might have done to a scared child, rocking her back and forth, reassuring her that it was all right, as she dried the sweat that formed on her brow, although she knew that Kyari could not hear her at all. The next day, all hints of the traumatized youth was gone, replaced by one as calm and cool as marble. She sat down at a small table that overlooked the garden, pouring herself a cup of tea, allowing the fragrance of the plants to flow over her, and setting her mind at ease. Yet before she left, there was just one last pressing issue to take care of: Choosing someone to lead the Clan in her stead. The sensible choice would be to one of the older, more experienced samurai, yet Kyari was uneasy about choosing any of them. She considered all her choices, unsure of whom to choose. Finally, the youth made her decision, and motioned for one of her attendants to bring him to her. Sairasu was just leaving the dojo he trained at when a servant from the palace stopped him. He gave the messenger a curious look, and his expression grew all the more incredulous when he heard the summons. Yet all the young man did was to offer a small shrug, and followed the servant to the palace where Kyari awaited him at the small balcony. She motioned for him to take the cushion opposite her, and allowed the attendant to refill her cup and fill his. The youth then gestured for all within earshot to leave them, more for appearances than any real reason, seeing how they had likely guessed what she had called him here about. Even if they didn’t, there were so many places for them to eavesdrop from. “I suppose you can guess my reason for asking you to join me?” “This is definitely no casual morning chat, but something more important. The marble statue of the Ryú would not call me here for a discussion about how well the sakura are blooming, I am sure.” “Perhaps I did.” “Tell me the reason why I am here.” “How would you feel if I told you that since I am leaving for the Arakajime for the Kurasu, I would like you to lead the Clan in my stead?” “WHAT?!” “I shall consider this an agreement then. You may move into the palace any time you wish.” Akira Kureshida ShizukaHe lay on his side listening to the busy restaurant sounds coming from the first floor beneath him. He could hear the clatter in the kitchen and the sounds of people screaming to each other. Shizuka closed his eyes and fell into a doze, away from this world and into his own. He was on a beach. Laughter was bubbling in him and rising to the surface in little fits of pleasure. It was honest and joyful like he never remembered before. Someone lifted him up from behind and all Shizuka could see was great blue sky and the leaves of the tree above, the sun shining brightly behind it. Blissful weightlessness. The person lifting him was strong and powerful; sincere laughter from him mingled with the sounds of the sea. Shizuka was carried on strong shoulders and placed onto the grass gently. He swung his legs, looking down at the cliffs below. The person sat beside him. “What is power, do you think?” Shizuka- very young and naïve, replied: “Power is strength. Strength is muss-musskles, BIG ones.” The person laughed and stood up, lifting young Shizuka over his shoulders like a sack of wheat. He could feel the man’s body shake as he laughed and spun him around. “It’s a little more than muscles. Just wait till you discover your inner power, it’ll be nothing like you’ve ever felt before. To be able to use your powers to help the ones you love…” Shizuka climbed down and stretched himself as tall as possible, measuring himself against the other person. He only measured as tall as the man’s waist. Shizuka felt the man tousle his hair playfully. “One day, I’m gonna be as taller as you and more powerful-er too! With big, big muss-kles, “ Shizuka flexed his puny arms, “and I’m gonna fight you and we’ll fight in a battle together. You’ll see me win all my fights, won’t you dad?” Shizuka’s dad tousled his hair and replied, “Of course. I’ll always be there-“ Shizuka woke up with a start. The voice always cut out there. The dream always ended before Shizuka could learn his real name. No clue about who his dad was or where he was from, if there was anyone else in the family and nothing that pointed to which clan he came from. He sat up as someone entered the small living room. Ken sat down and crossed his legs, watching him carefully. “Been sleeping, have you? Don’t blame you, restaurant was busy this afternoon and you were working harder than ten geisha on a client dressed in gold.” Ken laughed and slapped his palm on the table. Shizuka merely smiled politely, not getting the joke. He looked at the fine lines in the wood. “I want to thank you, Ken, for letting me stay with you and your family these past weeks. I owe you greatly.” Ken stopped and looked at him seriously. “What? Thank me? I haven’t had a waiter like you working in my restaurant since I was young and full of energy. No thanks needed, it’s been my privilege!” “But-“ Shizuka cut in. “Shh yourself, boy, let’s celebrate your last day and drink to a great occasion! Not everyday does someone I know leave for the prestigious Arakajime to fight in the Kurasu!” Ken lifted his cup filled with sake and had poured one for Shizuka where it sat waiting for him. Shizuka was somewhat reminded of his Master Komo and wondered if anyone in this country actually accepted thank you’s. But he knew he was ever grateful to Master Komo and to Ken and they knew it also. “To you and your beautiful family,” Shizuka declared, raising his cup. Ken looked at him over his sake for a moment and then nodded. “And to you, Kiseki, Shizuka for the amazing path ahead.” They both downed their cups of sake. * It was early morning and he had walked about three steps away from the front of the empty restaurant when a carriage pulled up in front of him. A middle-aged man, dressed in a formal kimono of white and silver stepped out. He carried by his side a long expensive katana. “Kiseki, Shizuka, please step inside the carriage,” he said, bowing. Shizuka hesitated and bowed. “My name is Tanaka Ishi. You may call me Taka. I am one of the representative Guardians. Both the Tamashii and non-Elemental have been assigned a full-time guardian until the end of the Kurasu. You will be taken to the Arakajime training school.” Shizuka looked around the empty streets, his hand resting on his sword hand-guard, then he looked down at his feet. “A guardian? What do I need one of those for?” He didn’t understand why he and a Tamashii had to be “cared for” by guardians. Why didn’t the others get one? And if he was supposed to be one of the “great” kurasu competitors, how much could this man help him. Did they think he was powerless? Maybe the Tamashii were powerless too, just like the non-Elementals. Maybe both were considered weaklings who needed constant care and protection. The man stared at him for a while, ignoring his question and glanced at the waiting carriage and the driver who was falling asleep in his seat. “No thanks, I’d rather walk,” Shizuka said sternly, turning to leave. Shizuka was stopped in his tracks suddenly. Taka was standing in front of him, blocking the way. In bewilderment, Shizuka looked back at the carriage wondering how he had arrived there so fast and saw Taka still standing where he was a moment ago. Shizuka drew both his wakizashi in defence. “What is this?” Does this guy have a twin or something? Shizuka thought, looking at both of them. It was then that he noticed Taka’s eyes. They were completely white with almost no pupils. His pupils were faintly outlined in silver. “What are you, a Tamashii or something? Or are you just some blind guy with magic tricks?” “A Tamashii,” Taka said, stepping towards him from the carriage. His double disappeared. “And that was not a twin but an illusion only your mind could see. Do you want to fight me, Shizuka? I can see you are ready for battle.” “What? You’re reading my soul or something?” “No. You have your swords drawn.” Shizuka glanced at him warily and slowly put his swords away. He would have to spend the next month with this guy. At least that would give him a chance to learn more about the Tamashii. He knew hardly anything; then again, the non-Elementals knew hardly anything about any Elemental clan. Shizuka crossed his arms, watching him. “I don’t trust you. Prove yourself.” “That I am a Tamashii or that I am your guardian?” “Both. Are you even worthy of being my guardian?” Taka grinned. “I thought you might ask that. I can prove both to you but what would you have me do?” Shizuka scanned the empty streets with his eyes. “If you are a Tamashii, you can copy my ability. I will execute an original move faster than the eye can follow and you will copy it. I will be able to see if you are exact.” I’ve heard enough about the Tamashii to know the least of your ability. Shizuka braced himself and drew his katana. And if you are a soul-reader, you know what I will do and what I plan to do. Taka didn’t draw his sword. He merely watched expressionlessly, waiting. Shizuka raised his katana, focused energy into his feet. And then before he could say ‘go’ he was sprinting like lightning down the street. He turned and slid along the gravel, running into an alleyway and through another, taking side streets and routes that no one else would know. No one would have been able to catch up with him. Glancing behind, he saw that Taka wasn’t even close. He couldn’t see him at all. Shizuka stopped in a glade of the western forest. If Taka didn’t come, he could easily walk through and continue on his one day journey from Kimazo to the Arakajime training school. He waited on the branch of a large maple tree, lying back to take a nap. He was sure that Taka wouldn’t show up but had a small expectation in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes and before he could stop himself, he was asleep. ”I’m dreaming…” he murmured, looking around. Light shined through the light green foliage above, warming his face. He sat up and then raised an eyebrow at his clothes. Instead of his black pants he was wearing a kimono and his wakizashis had disappeared. He still had his katana strapped to his back. He creased his eyebrows and looked up to find a mirror image of his usual self staring him in the face. “What!” He pulled out his katana and balanced himself on the branch. “What is this? Who are you?” His voice had changed and was deeper, sounding scarily familiar to his ears but to avoid that fear, he didn’t think about that possibility for long. He growled. Shizuka, or the person standing in front of him, scratched his hand and stared at him. He pulled out one of his wakizashis and started carving into the tree. “You wanted me to prove it to you. I am a Tamashii.” The real Shizuka spat and drew his katana. After a moment of silence, the tension hanging heavily in the air, Shizuka controlled himself. He sat down, swinging his legs and put his sword away. “I get it, you’re a Tamashii. Now change me back.” Taka laughed and sat beside him. It was strange to have his exact body sitting next to him. “Not yet.” Shizuka woke up suddenly, panting heavily. He checked himself over and found he was in his own body again. He lay back in relief and wondered about his strange dream. Taka was nowhere to be seen and Shizuka decided to leave since the man had not come. He wandered through the forest until he came to the Northern road that would lead him straight to the Arakajime. As he came out of the trees, he stopped and groaned, kicking a clump of wet grass with his foot. Taka was sitting on top of the carriage, waiting patiently on the road. Shizuka walked forward and then without another word, climbed into the carriage and sat down, eyes forward. Taka climbed in through the window and sat beside him. The carriage lurched forward with a creak. Shizuka was watching the passing countryside, thinking about the clans. He felt a little excitement in him building to meet the other clan members. He would finally learn more about them and if he succeeded in what he was planning to do, he might just find his parents. A thought crossed his mind. He had never heard of clan children that were mixed from two different clans. Did it ever happen? A half-Tamashii and half-Yuki, for instance? “No,” Taka said suddenly. Shizuka turned to look at him. “What?” “There are no half-caste children. No mix of the clans.” Shizuka stared at him. Taka had read him like an open book. “But…what happens to them? There have to be some…accident children. Instances of-“ “There aren’t any. There are those sent out specially to kill any children who are mixed, those that can hunt them and get rid of them.” Shizuka shook his head. “Why? Just because they’re not full-blood clan members?” “They are seen by some as an abomination: unholy conceived children. There is no mixing of clan members anyway so children such as those are rare. Some say that to allow half-caste children would result in destructive and uncontrollable power. They would be dangerous.” Shizuka remained silent, feeling something catch in his throat but he didn’t say anything and turned to look out the window. To kill innocent children just because they weren’t full-blooded clan members. It was more of an abomination to murder them. * The carriage pulled up outside of a large gate. He could smell the sea air and hear the faint sound of crashing waves. The Arakajime was built on the edge of a cliff. The vicinity was enclosed in large white walls and every entrance was guarded by armour clad soldiers of the Imperial office. The Imperial office was the country’s government and was ruled by both Elemental and non-Elemental personnel. They were considered neutral on all grounds and were the official organisers of the tournament. Every guard wore navy and black and carried a katana. Shizuka ran a hand through his hair and stepped out onto the pebbled ground. It looked like no one had arrived other than him. There was another carriage in front of his so they may have been inside already. The place looked gigantic from what he could see. From what he was told, it lay out as several interconnecting houses with a different wing for each competitor. He entered through the gate and faced the main building. A maid came out and bowed. Taka introduced him as the non-Elemental competitor. Shizuka and Taka were given the northernmost wing. He looked around but could see none of the other Elementals. They passed the guards and followed a long path that was lined with cherry blossoms in full bloom with their soft pink flowers. It was the first week of spring. They walked through a perfectly maintained garden and then passed several ‘L’ shaped houses to arrive at the Northern room. This whole wing was his, the maid explained. She introduced herself as Mitsuki, and bowed, telling Shizuka that she was his personal maid until the end of the Arakajime. He could call the maids to his service any time he pleased and was allowed to wander through the Arakajime whenever he wished. Shizuka nodded, wondering if he would ever get used to the idea of having servants. No doubt the other Elementals were used to being served every day. Mitsuki had a kind face and knowing he was unused to the attention, she gave him a friendly wink. She bowed to Shizuka and Taka and asked permission to leave. Shizuka went to have a look around. There was one main dojo where they could come together to train and one personal dojo for each person. Shizuka’s was close to his room and looked out onto the ocean below where white foam was created by crashing waves. His room was huge and it was more luxurious than he was used to. It broke off into several other rooms and outside was his own personal garden. “A bit lavish, isn’t it? I thought we were warriors, not rich government people.” Taka laughed. “Anything less and the clan members wouldn’t be too happy. Especially the Ryu who are used to this and more.” Taka in his formal white and silver kimono looked more fit to be in this place than Shizuka did; it was elegant with white-washed walls and black trim. If you looked closer at the black trim, little specks of gold could be seen. Taka said he would be outside and left the room. Shizuka sat down on his large bed and bounced a little before sitting in his silence. Now what was he supposed to do? Some time passed and he left the room to see if he could find one of the other competitors in their part of the Arakajime. He found Taka standing on the garden bridge, watching the stream beneath his feet. “Where are the Senseis?” Shizuka asked. “They won’t arrive until tomorrow. First day is for settling in. Second is to begin training.” “And…I’ll get to meet the others?” Taka looked up at him. “You won’t get to meet the others. Not in the way you’re expecting. You must fight them, possibly to the death, not get to know them.” Shizuka couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed by this. He had expected that he might get a chance to walk through the gardens with them and talk or something. It was stupid of him to think so. Taka patted him on the back suddenly. He grinned. “Expecting to make some friends, were you?” Shizuka laughed. “Maybe. But then again, I know nothing about why I’m here. I don’t think I’d be welcomed either, from what I hear about hostile clans.” “Not all of them are hostile,” Taka said, turning to look at the stream bubbling over the rocks again. It was midday. Shizuka was by the front gate, sitting on a branch in the trees to wait for the others to arrive. A maid had told him that none had arrived yet but they should all be there by the evening. Shizuka almost fell out of the tree when someone next to him said, ‘boo!’ He composed himself when he discovered it was just a little girl, no more than 6 or 7 years old. She was adorable in her little cloth kimono with red and white stitching of butterflies and her hair tied into two plaits on either side. She smiled cheerily and then scratched her hand, waiting for him to say something. He looked at her blankly. “What’s your name, little girl?” he asked finally, sitting to watch the front gate again. “Miiii-nehhhh,” she said firmly. “Mine? Mi-neh…” Shizuka thought for a moment. “You know in English that would be said as Mi-“ She shot him a look that shut him up. “Okay Mi-neh, that’s a nice name. I’m Shizuka” Mine smiled and asked, “So what are you sitting up here for?” “Heh…just waiting to get a peek at the other competitors.” “Me too. I want to see the Tamashii one and the Kage one…oh! And I want to see the Kaminari one. And the Kaze one too and the Ryu. And Mizu too…” Shizuka thought for a moment. A leaf fell by. “Isn’t that all of them?” She scratched her hand thoughtfully. “Not all of them.” It dawned on him. “Ohhh right. Not the non-Elemental one.” He grinned. “I suppose you’ve seen enough non-Elementals, huh?” “No silly, it’s not that I don’t want to see the non-Elemental one. It’s just that I’ll see him and just feel sorry for him and no one likes to be pitied on.” “Eh?” Mine looked at him, tilting her head. “The non-Elemental never wins,” she said softly. “I feel sad for them because they always get to the first round and they try really hard and everything, but they never even get to hit the other one. It’s unfair because they don’t have powers like the Elementals do. But I do like the non-Elementals because they’re really nice.” She nodded, smiling. He turned back to the gate as he heard a rattling of a carriage. “That’ll be one of them now. I wonder which it is…” * They didn’t wait long. A guy, someone not much younger than himself stepped through the gate and his presence commanded attention. He had pale skin and he wore a midnight blue kimono. His hair was ashen blue and spiked like his own. As he walked, his grace and formality showed. Shizuka was immediately intimidated by him and he stopped breathing without even realising it. There was more to it than just his appearance. Shizuka could feel his power. It felt like he was under water and even though he couldn’t see the waves and the force of the water, he could feel it. Shizuka stood on the branch to get a better look. The guy stopped suddenly and turned to look straight at Shizuka. Or as Shizuka felt, straight into him. Who are you? Shizuka wondered. Not the Tamashii…who are you? A chill swept through him and he suddenly realised that the air had become icy cold. Shizuka saw his eyes were swirling like mist. It seemed that time had frozen and the only things in existence were Shizuka and the person in front of him. There was no beginning, there was no end, there was just this. It was like a path of energy had opened up between him and Shizuka and they were exchanging it through their spirits. Who are you? The person’s eyes said. Who? * Shizuka was shocked out of his encounter by a tap on his wrist. The guy turned away and continued walking until he disappeared into the main house. Shizuka sat down, feeling as if he’d just been slapped awake out of a bad dream. Damn, he thought. Is that the power of a strong Elemental? He didn’t want to know the answer. Shizuka shivered and not from the passing winds of ice. Mine gave him a funny look but didn’t say anything. A few minutes later, another Elemental arrived. Though the wind pressure increased, there was not much else. It was the member of the Kaze clan, Mine had informed him. She said she recognised the crest. Nakamura, Ringo. He didn’t notice Mine and Shizuka watching him. And if he did, he didn’t look like it. Shizuka wondered if there was just something different about the pale boy earlier. It had to be the Yuki clan member. That would at least account for the cold that had followed him. That would mean his name was…Yuki, Kori. Shizuka shivered and it wasn’t from the earlier cold. It was around an hour later and Mine had been called away by the maid, Mitsuki. He sat alone when a figure glided through the gate. At least, he thought she was gliding and thought he was seeing a ghost. She was beautiful, like the mythical Maiden in White he had heard stories about. But now to see her was to witness something unearthly. Her hair was extremely long and as black as coal and it contrasted with her white skin, similar to the Yuki’s; like a Noh mask. She walked forward and then turned slowly, looking up into the trees, near him. He saw she had the Tamashii eyes just like Taka. Her lips were rose pink and it seemed she didn’t look through her eyes, but with her whole body or spirit. Shizuka turned and saw what she was seeing. To his left was a dark presence he felt before he could see. It was an evil presence that carried the shadows like they belonged to him. It was the Kage. The same one he had seen on the rooftops the day of the non-Elemental matches. The three of them were caught in each other’s presence. Shizuka realised he was fixed between two extremes. To his left was the evil darkness and to his right was light; the Tamashii exuded life and goodness. The darkness pulled at him and Shizuka’s eyes met with the Kage’s. The Kage glared at him from the shadow with hatred in his eyes. He was dressed head to toe in black and light managed to catch some of the silver in his hair. Shizuka suddenly caught the gleam of a drawn sword and before he could pull out his own, both the Tamashii and Kage vanished into thin air. Shizuka looked down and then caught sight of something he hadn’t noticed. He was wearing Taka’s white kimono. Shizuka touched his face frantically and then realised he’d been changed again. Shizuka sighed, rolling his eyes, and sat down on the branch. Both the Tamashii and Kage had seen through the illusion but it was unlikely that anyone else would. ** Zєro is Leaving Oct. 15 Ringo sat in the shade of a cherry tree. He watched the young man walking through the Main garden, his eyes ever watchful of his surroundings. There was nothing special about the boy. There was some level of peace within his eyes, but also the mark of the warrior spirit. Ringo disregarded the young man and returned his attention to the notebook open in his lap. He continued to concentrate on the haiku that he was writing. He could not, for the life of him complete it. The memory of the warrior he had killed played out in his mind over and over again. He crossed out what he had already written and concentrated harder. He wrote the first thing that occured to him:Blood flows like water The answer is not found there Blood answers nothing The haiku brought tears to his eyes. He had almost no recollection of his past, no idea what he had been before the monks saved him. No matter what his past was, he knew that he could not run from it now. He would have to kill and kill and kill until the blood contract he had signed in his previous life was fulfilled. t.s. wood, the sleepy art kid She had slipped in unnoticed, past the guards, merely another drop of water in a huge ocean. It was nearly dawn when Sakanako had arrived to the Arakajime, but that didn't leave the slightest shame in her. She had been taught by her brother that it was not honorable to have another person transport her somewhere when she could walk perfectly well. Thankfully, the Mizu Clan's village of Midorikuma wasn't as far away from the Arakajime as the other clans' towns.Sakanako sighed, brushing a few stray strands of fine hair out of her eyes. Her braid had come loose on her journey and now her dark brown hair hung limply around her waist. Waraji crunching on the small pebbles that provided for the paths through the main garden, she padded her way along. Spaced quite well, the living quarters for the other clan members were dark and gloomy, which is why the tiniest of lights caught Sakanako's eye. It was coming from one of the structures. She moved closer in the dark, staring ahead with suspicion, but relaxed when she saw what the light was coming from. A woman, no doubt one of the servants of the Arakajime, sat sleeping on the five small steps in front of the respectable building, a tiny lantern gleaming on the stone beside her. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly from her round face, and a thin dust covered her dark blue and green kimono- obviously from sleeping on the steps. Sakanako smiled slightly. "Thank you for waiting," she whispered as she gently tapped the woman on the shoulder. The maid opened her eyes and jumped when she saw the girl staring down at her. "Oh! Oh!" she yelped in an embarrassed tone. Abruptly, she stood, brushing herself off, and bowed in appology. "Please excuse me. I nodded off for a bit." Sakanako sighed. "I should be sorry. It took me so long to get here, so I kept you waiting." The maid raised her head slightly. "The guards would have been sent out to look for you; the carriage driver sent to get you had no idea where you had gone," cooed the woman, standing up fully. She was a great deal shorter than Sakanako, but none-the-less held herself high with dignity. "I'm sorry to have worried anyone," murmured a slightly drowsy Sakanako, shifting her weight from foot to foot. The maid smiled and shook her head. "It is not a problem. Here are your quarters for the training. I hope you'll find everything to your liking," she said, smiling. "You can call me Kaida. Just look for me if you need anything." Sakanako nodded in understanding. "Now get some rest. Heaven knows you'll need it." Gratefully, Sakanako stepped into the large room, its wooden floor polished to its full sheen. Even in the dark she could see that the walls were trimmed with a elegant black edge, intricate patterns carved into the dark material. A comfortable-looking bed lay in the corner and a painted scroll depicting a bird in flight hung on the wall above it. This place was well-furnished and carefully designed. It was just like her parents' home. Sakanako bowed her head, remembering them, her brother, and a person that she had always adored; Machika. .................................................. Sakanako had only been six and her brother- Ichiro -fourteen, when she decided that she wanted to be a warrior. Ichiro had been training for five years, being the gifted boy that he was. Everyone in Midorikuma was proud of him, knowing that he would one day be triumphant and win the Kurasu for the Mizu Clan- something that hadn't happened for a century. Every day, Sakanako would walk to the dojo where her brother trained and would wait until his sessions were over. When Ichiro would greet her when he was through, Sakanako would make him tell her every detail of his training. He made every single thing sound special, from the way Master Hikari explained how to clear the mind to how it felt to hold a sword and the chilling tingle from manipulating water into beautiful shapes. Soon, Sakanako was not satisfied with mere stories. She had seen that Ichiro was almost as skilled as Master Hikari, and decided to have him teach her. Every day that Ichiro had spare time, they would go out of the village and into the woods, deep into the heart of the forest. There, they'd emerge in a large clearing, a chrystaline spring right in the center. Ichiro would secretly teach Sakanako everything that he had learned, and in just a few months, she had become quite skilled, already able to control impressive amounts of water and dodge attacks. One day that changed her world was when she met Machika. Sakanako was eleven when her parents decided that Ichiro needed someone to help nurse him now that he had established himself as a magnificent fighter and was constantly getting challenges. That's when Machika was introduced. No one knew what to do with her. She was a poor girl, almost as old as Ichiro, who had the misfortune of having dormant powers and was often insulted by being called a "non-elemental." She was desperate for shelter and food, and by becoming a maid for Ichiro was more than she could ask for. Sakanako took an immediate liking to her. Machika was very well-mannered, cheerful, and loyal. Besides watching over Ichiro, she would look after Sakanako and taught her to play string-games, which made the eleven-year-old even more attatched to her. Ichiro was quite comfortable with her, too, which was unusual. He was usually more withdrawn around women, partly because females were looked down on, but mostly because many girls fancied him for his attractive looks and status as the best warrior in the clan. As every day passed, Sakanako grew closer to Machika, and soon began calling her "Onii-chan," older sister. Machika readily embraced Sakanako as her sister, sharing funny jokes and gossip that she would hear while running errands through the city late at night, when Sakanako would sneak into her small room late at night. Soon Ichiro started acting peculiar. He would often quietly ask to talk privately with Machika. Obviously, Sakanako eavesdropped, but not for long. Their conversations seemed boring, just about the day's events, and they always spoke in hushed tones. Then, only a few months away from the Kurasu, Ichiro requested that Machika come with him to the dojo where he trained by himself (Master Hikari had passed away the year before and had proudly left the dojo to Ichiro and his family). Sakanako, slowly beginning to drift apart from her brother, only went to tell Ichiro that it was time to go back home, and each time would find Machika sitting on the porch outside the building. One day, Sakanako's world would change forever. As the thick, rolling clouds drenched the city streets with cool rain, Sakanako arrived at the dojo to see that Machika was not in her usual spot, and that the sliding wooden door was open just a bit, instead of being shut tightly. Being the curious child that she was, she silently made her way onto the wooden porch and knelt down, her eyes coyly peering into the dojo. At first she couldn't see anything in the gloom. She assumed that no one was there when a soft groan made her jump. Then she saw them, though she wished she hadn't. Her stomach twisted as she understood what was going on. There, on the far side of the dojo floor, lay Ichiro and Machika, their robes undone. Machika's long, forest-green hair pooled around her has she held Ichiro's face to her bare neck. Her eyes were closed, but Sakanako knew better than to think she was sleeping. Her face cold and emotionless, Sakanako stood and turned away into the rain, which was coming down in sheets now. "He'll just have to be late," she whispered bitterly. Machika was not herself anymore. She tried her hardest to act normally, to be cheerful, to be friendly with Sakanako, but she just could not be the same. Sakanako stayed away from her brother and Machika, making excuses to leave. And then there was the Kurasu. Ichiro was easily made the Mizu Clan representative. Sakanako and her parents had been lucky enough to watch the competition, and they brought along Machika, who was often sleepy and very emotional then. All the competitors still left, which was all but the Non-Elemental, were sent to the next round which was set on a tall cliff, its edge looking over a deep valley filled with rocks. The competitors were all assembled behind a large boulder, out of view from the few spectators, when a cry pierced the excited silence. A body flew over the cliff, and gasps were heard from the crowd. There was the most sickening of thuds as the body collided with the rocky base of the valley. Sakanako had stared frantically at the top of the cliff. Every clan representative was there, looking over the edge- except for Ichiro. Her head buzzed as she stared wide-eyed at the top of the cliff, praying that she was seeing things wrong. Suddenly, she felt Machika's hand on her shoulder. "Sakanako, come with me," she murmured, her voice wavering. Her eyes were shining brightly with tears, though she dared not shed them. Together, they pushed their way out of the frightened crowd and into the shade of a big oak tree quite a way's from the main spectator area. Machika had grabbed Sakanako's hand tightly and pressed it to her stomach, which seemed unusually firm. Sakanako looked at her in bewilderment, trying to force down her tears. "His... his child..." stammered Machika. "I'm sorry, Sakanako. I'm sorry." With a gasp that sent hot tears down her face, Sakanako fiercely tore her hand away. "I hate you!" she had yelled. "Get away from me! You ruined everything!" And with that, she had run and run as far as she could, leaving Machika to sob by herself. A few months passed. Machika and her baby were found out, and, as expected, was put to death with her unborn child. Sakanako's parents were too ashamed to mourn any longer for Ichiro, and slowly began to teach Sakanako more weaponry techniques, but most of all, medical skills. Three years later, they passed away. Sakanako had been on her own since then, devoting her time to training in order to honor her parents' and Ichiro's memories. But most of all, she trained to redeem Machika and her child. .................................................. Sakanako opened her eyes to find the room bathed in light that streamed through a window. She quietly got out of her bed and dressed in a light blue gi that she found neatly folded on a shelf near her bed. Today would be their first day of training at the Arakajime, and Sakanako wanted to be the first one ready. She would not make any mistakes. She would not make a fool of herself. She would demonstrate all of her skills to perfection and impress the trainers. She would try to learn which clan was responsible for the death of her brother. ~*Sayuri Ayame recognized the illusion. Although she was seeing an essence of Taka in the trees, it was Shizuka’s spirit and life that swirled there. She wanted to understand more about Shizuka. There was a dark part of his soul near his heart that was like a void. A blank part of his life that she couldn’t see. But she would encode it somehow. She wanted to touch it and see what would happen. In every person there were places like the one Shizuka had and only the strongest Tamashii could figure out what they meant. She had never seen anything like the one he had. If she had long enough, she could figure it out like her sensei, Mira. And then it hit her like a wave, the spirit of evil emanating from the opposite blossom tree. It was only a moment and then she saw in his eyes, the intent to kill what he didn’t understand. The Kage didn’t like to be confused, he didn’t like anything with life, really, and he especially seemed to hate her and Shizuka. She saw him draw his sword in her mind’s eye before he drew it in life- he was adamant that Shizuka should die- and she summoned her energy to touch the dark soul with a part of her spirit. Like a loving hand that strokes the skin of a newborn child, she reached out with her spirit to do the only thing she could think of before he drew his sword and killed the non-Elemental. Kyo, the shadow, withdrew in revulsion, not wanting her to touch him and using his power, blinked himself away. She followed suit, copying his trick and appeared on the wall above the cliff and sea so far below. “Don’t follow me, bitch.” Kyo hissed, crouching. He sheathed his sword. Head to toe in black, he should have contrasted sharply because of the white of the bright sun but he was like a darkly cast shadow. He was unafraid, and she could see he was now deeply uninterested. He sat down on the wall and looked out over the sea. She flinched when she saw the intent in his soul to kill her. He seemed to notice and took pleasure in it, thinking of more ways, most too disturbing to mention. She blocked it out and then sat on the high wall, her hair drifting over the black tiling. There was never anything in her life like this, no darkness so great, no person or soul so full of hatred. It was opposite to everything she had ever felt. She felt a strange fascination at this newness and wondered if the Kage was able to change. Of course he could. She glanced over at him and noticed he wasn’t looking at the view but staring at his hand, his palm. He decided that he didn’t like her and was wondering how he might kill her without using a blade. Then he looked into her eyes and wondered just how much she could see. “Everything, especially that of which you do not wish me to see,” she said. She turned away, swung her legs over and jumped from the wall with ease onto the soft grass below. * “Megumi-san”, Ayame called. The maid swung around in surprise and dropped her jar, sending sweets spilling across the wooden floorboards. She flushed with embarrassment and started to pick up the sweets and apologize at the same time. The maid had a long history of verbal abuse from her family and had a tendency to think that she was below everyone else. She acted as though she had to apologize for her very existence. In Ayame’s eyes the sweets were beautifully coloured and were like rainbows streaming across the floor. The girl kneeling amongst them was just as beautiful and Ayame was actually grateful to see something so beautiful after witnessing something so dark. Ayame bent down and with a motion of her hand and a releasing of her power, brought the sweets together and Megumi watched in amazement as they rolled into the jar. Ayame smiled and wondered at the ease of the friendship that was just created. With some, it was as simple as extending a hand. With others it was much harder and could take years. But knowing the human soul as intimate as she did, it was never impossible. Her room was as she expected, clean and lavish. It wasn’t long before Ayame was called into her dojo, met by one of the maids. The maid handed her a scroll and departed, saying nothing. Ayame unrolled it and read: Tamashii: Watch the shadows among the trees and confusion will die. You understand but speak to no one of what you have seen there. For others the main test is met without challenge, for others it means loss. The other test is simple: go there first and add to the flame. Close the door behind you. Sharumi Ayame rolled the scroll and dropped it, watching as it burnt itself and turned to ash. She left the dojo and walked to the outer walls of the school and stopped, watching the trees. She understood and smiled to herself. Not yet, she told herself, the others will find out tomorrow. She was in the black room. Two others had come here before, the two that were linked somehow. They were not supposed to have come, not yet. Ayame reached out a hand and touched the blue flame. It reached for her and she felt its power surge through her and felt her own power surge out, mingling together as she came to know the flame, the Dancing Soul Flame. She would never forget it and drew her hand away reluctantly, minutes later. Another was approaching and she departed quickly, not forgetting to close the door behind her. All the Kurasu members had been called out after they had eaten their meals. They eyed each other warily, with interest and some with awkwardness, knowing that they were competing against each other in the end. Each had an air of composure and security, the way of the warrior, having thrown away many of life’s trivial things to become faster, stronger, braver. They stood in a line on the bridge awaiting their first briefing. A maid stood before them and bowed. Her eyes flicked from one person to the next. Obviously they were expecting someone important. “I know you were waiting for a leader, but I have been called instead.” She bowed her head in embarrassment. “The message is that one of you must find the blue scroll with the red…no…orange wax seal in the school grounds or in the next village before the next sun rises,” the maid paused, trying to remember the message. “It is your first mission. The teachers assigned to you have not arrived, they will be here tomorrow. No one is to kill another and the one who finds the scroll will be allowed to open it and learn its powerful secret. It may lead to victory in the Kurasu. That’s it…I think…” she bit her lip uncertainly. She bowed and left quickly. Some turned to each other in slight astonishment, and before anyone spoke, the Kage Kyo, who had made no eye contact with any other the entire time, was gone. The rest took the same precaution and disappeared. No one had even said a word. The first mission had just begun. mirror on the wall The sun slowly rose, causing the shadow in the corner of Kyo’s room to fade. Like a mother cradling her baby to its crib, it carried him out of the shadow onto the futon before it disappeared entirely. His eyes opened to the new day. Another day to exist.Yellow leaves fell off their branches on to the earth’s floor where Kyo was walking down a narrow path with his sword Ku [emptiness] on his back and his wakizashi at his side. He had a special gift with him that he had stolen from the Kage temple; the famous Kage Satoshi’s katana, and had replaced Ku (Satoshi’s katana) with his own. Ku originally was a family heir loom, but through the ages, that changed. The Kage killed their own for Ku and in the end it was whoever strongest that wielded the katana. Ku had a pearl charcoal blade with a crimson hand guard, and crisscrossing around the handle was frayed black and crimson material. Kyo looked up at the sky. He knew he was getting close to the Arakajime because it appeared as though the weather and seasons were clashing together. He could see the winds were travelling in all directions. One part of the sky was rain fall (Mizu) and sunlight (Tamashii) beamed through the gaps in the rain clouds. A rumble shook the heavens, the arrival of Kaminari (Thunder), and behind Kyo it was dark; the shadows leaning in toward him as if they longed to touch him. There was a chill in the air. Somewhere in the distance a representative of Yuki on his way to the school. Kyo began to feel heated inside and dirty, as if he had walked into a land so wasteful he wanted to gag. With his sixth sense he felt power growing with every footstep, none of which were what he was used to or liked. There was a sense of goodness in each element. It was disgusting, worse than maggot filled rotting flesh of a slaughtered innocent. Anyone might have rose their power level to override the feeling, but that brought weakness. Even though he detested good, living in a peaceful place brought a new outlook on the situation. What his body could handle could only make him stronger. Kyo hadn’t been at the Arakajime long and so far it was interesting. The Tamashii’s kept and annoyingly close watch on him since he came in range of the non elemental, and he had been highly amused by the incompetence of his maid, Suki, who was terrified of him. It wore off shortly after as he roamed the school, feeling tempered. The atmosphere wasn’t helping either and no matter where he went he’d find himself back in the Main Garden. Already the school had started their little tricks. He entered a room inside the school where a blue flamed burned, touched it, and left. Later on, a mission had begun and he disappeared from the room to the Main Garden to rest on the branch of a tree. He wasn’t going to anticipate on the schools ‘important’ search for a scroll activity. It sounded a lot a game of hide and seek. He could do without knowing the scrolls powerful secret and start on gathering information, like Akaru wanted. He’d follow one of the elementals first, perhaps the Mizu. Feeling confident not to rush into anything, he pulled out from inside his clothing a cigarette and lit it, and then pocketed the lighter. He looked up. Looking down from the branch above stood a man he hadn’t seen before, but by the look and feel of his aura there was only a few possibilities on the roll he played in the Arakajime. Feeling that it was unlikely the powerful elemental behind the scene would spy on him, he assumed it was a teacher. It looked like he was unable to follow anyone just now. They’d all have teachers seeing how well they were on their own. The right side of his face and his mouth were covered by black material. Over his grey kimono were two brown and lopsided leather belts, both holding his wakizashi’s to his sides. His spiky brown hair stuck out where the material did not cover and his brown eyes glared. “Do you want to be thrown out?” he asked in a husky voice. Kyo turned away and took another dragged of his cigarette without answering. “I suggest you move it then.” Daizy “You will go to the tournament Yuriko.” Mieko said handing her daughter a letter. It stated that the other Kazé warrior had been killed in battle. It hadn’t even been a proper tournament battle, but a sneak attack in the middle of the night. A knife had been plunged into Ringo’s back. “He died without honor.” Yuri sighed. Now I must regain his honor by finding the murderer and winning the competition. “It is regrettable, but now that you are no longer ill, you may enter the tournament in his place and win.” Yuriko had been deathly ill for nearly three months. She had been the original Kazé warrior, but her sickness had prevented her from entering. In the past few days, Yuri had been regaining her strength and poise in battle. She practiced twice as much now as she had before she was sick. “I will bring our clan honor.” Yuriko said as she bowed low in respect. “You had better.” Yuriko gathered her weapons and other necessary items for the tournament. Fulfilling the requirements for Arakajime was almost too easy. Her fighting skills were far beyond anything her opponents could hope to have. © Copyright 2003 Akira Kureshida, Zєro is Leaving Oct. 15, t.s. wood, the sleepy art kid, ~*Sayuri, mirror on the wall, §§ CompBroke gone till fixed, Kythara, Daizy, (known as GROUP). All rights reserved. GROUP has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
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