coolyo294
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Slayer of Demons
Posts: 1,169
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Post by coolyo294 on Sept 17, 2014 5:23:29 GMT
--15 Years Ago--Few things in the world were as hauntingly ephemeral as the cherry blossom trees of Whalebone Island. For one week they burst into vibrant colour, showering the island in hues of pink and white. Yet after a week the petals fall and the trees become bare again. A fleeting speck of beauty in a harsh and unforgiving world. For centuries scholars and poets of the Tokage race spoke of their transcendent beauty. They worked hard to immortalize the flowers in poetry and painting, treating them as a symbol for something greater than simple physical beauty. But as he walked through the garden of his family’s estate, none of those things crossed the mind of Sato Isamu. Instead he was content to simply swish his tail and admire the cherry blossoms for what they were: beautiful flowers. So content in fact his mind wandered from the words of his companion, who’d been speaking for the past few minutes. “Are you even listening to me, Isamu?” the other Tokage asked. His name was Watanabe Ryoto and he was Isamu’s oldest friend. They had known each other since they were hatchlings and had even attended the same Sakurai training shrine, though Ryoto graduated two years before Isamu. “Hmm? Sorry, old friend. I lost myself admiring the cherry blossoms. After all, they are only around for a week. I may as well admire them while I have the chance.” Isamu responded with a cheeky smile. Ryoto was seemingly less amused. “As I was saying, I do not think it wise for you to go through with this duel. Satsugi is a murderous opponent. They say he has the soul of a devil and has killed a hundred warriors with that muramasa of his.” “Pah! Mere stories. Satsugi is a skilled warrior and nothing else.” Isamu said with a dismissive wave. He and his friend stopped on a bridge to admire the view of cherry blossoms on a moonlit lake. “And besides, you know I cannot back down now. That bastard murdered my brother. If I withdrew now I might as well spit on his grave and then slit my own belly.” A sigh escaped Ryoto’s snout. “You always were too impulsive, Isamu. You should’ve taken more time to train before you accepted Satsugi’s challenge.” Isamu adjusted his robes so that the hilts of his twinned swords poked out. With one smooth motion he grabbed the hilt of the longer katana and drew it, pointing its curved tip at the full moon. “I swear to you I am ready, Ryoto.” Isamu said. His voice had lost its earlier playful tone and now had a hard edge to it. “With this sword I will kill that bastard Satsugi and avenge my brother. That much is certain.” oo “Bold words.” Ryoto said. “Do you doubt my capabilities, old friend?” Isamu asked. “Of course not. In training you were a fine swordsman, easily the better of any in our class. But Satsugi is a veteran warrior. He has fought beneath the banner of Kyō Fujisaki for many years. You on the other hand, just became a Sakurai two years ago. With time there is no question in my mind that you will beat him, but it is simply too soon. Isamu sheathed his sword. “Tch. I cannot wait years. By this time tomorrow Satsugi will be dead and my brother’s spirit can rest in peace.” Ryoto simply sighed. It was clear his words would have no effect on the passionate young Sakurai. He could only hope that Isamu’s words were true and not mere boasting. ------------------------------- And so begins the tale of Sato Isamu.
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coolyo294
Iconic
Slayer of Demons
Posts: 1,169
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Post by coolyo294 on Sept 17, 2014 20:26:04 GMT
Alone in his chambers, Isamu made his final preparations for the coming duel. He kneeled on a mat made of woven straw. In front of him a quill, a pot of ink, and a piece of parchment. Dipping the quill in the ink Isamu began to write.
This was another tradition of the Sakurai. Before entering into an important battle, all Sakurai took the time to record their death poem. This poem marked their final thoughts and convictions in case the warrior fell in battle and was not able to pass them on.
When Isamu was finished the parchment was covered in scrawled Tokage ideograms. He had never had a particular talent for poetry or calligraphy but that did not prevent him from enjoying both. Allowing the ink a moment to dry, Isamu rolled up the parchment and tucked it into his robes. Should he die the poem would be recovered and inscribed on his gravestone. But should he live Isamu would burn it himself, forever keeping it a private testimonial.
Bowing his head down so deep that his snout scraped the floor, Isamu made his finally oath. “Itsuki, my brother. I will avenge you. On my life I swear it!” he said.
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Outside his chamber Isamu’s father waited. The grizzled old Tokage nodded as Isamu drew back the sliding door and stepped into the hallway. Sato Ryuu was clearly an experienced warrior. His muscled frame was barely constrained by the silken robes he wore. Even in the safety of his own home he wore his katana and wakizashi openly, as if daring someone to confront him. A single yellow eye smoldered from beneath his furrowed brow, the other covered by black patch. It had been lost in a battle many years ago, though Ryuu had slain the man who took it. “You are ready, I take it?” he growled, his voice hoarse with age and sorrow. “Yes, father. In body and spirit I am ready to confront Satsugi.” Isamu responded. “Good. Satsugi is a devil. He has no respect for the ways of our people. He cut Itsuki down like a dog while he lay wounded on the field of battle and gloated about the act. To call him a Sakurai defiles the nobility of the position and gives legitimacy to a murderer.” his father said, his voice trembling with anger. “I understand, father.” Isamu said solemnly. “I will not fail.” “No, you will not.” Ryuu said. And with that he turned and walked away, leaving his son alone in the hallway. Isamu sighed and headed to the main entrance of their estate. As per the terms of the duel, it would take place just outside the Sato clan’s estate. There was no doubt in Isamu’s mind that Satsugi and his cohorts would arrive soon, hungry for violence. As Isamu wandered into a wide garden-courtyard dominated by a small pagoda, Ryoto moved to meet him. The two friends meandered across a sculptured path before sitting down together at a small bench. A servant brought them a pot of tea and two earthen cups, before bowing deeply and quietly hurrying away. The servant had enough sense not to trouble Isamu with unnecessary words on the day of his duel. “Well? What did your father say?” Ryoto asked.
“Words of harsh encouragement, Ryoto.” Isamu said. “I fear if I cannot defeat Satsugi I will either die at his blade or be cast from my home forever.” Ryoto sipped his tea as he thought. “That is likely true. Your father is a harsh soul. He would not forgive something like that lightly.”
“I do not need to be told that, Ryoto. I know my father better than you do.” Isamu snapped, suddenly angered by his friend’s words. Ryoto held up his hands in plication. “Of course Isamu, I meant no offense.” he said “I am sorry my friend, I should not have snapped at you. This day simply finds me on edge.” Isamu sighed. “Vengeance is a heavy burden to bear.” “I understand. There is no need for apologies.” Ryoto said. He had always been the calmer, more collected of the pair. It would take much to get a rise out of him. “But do not allow your anger to cloud your judgment during the coming battle. Satsugi surely plans on this. Trust in your skills and the spirits of your ancestors. They will lead you to victory.” The pair lapped into silence at the statement, content to simply enjoy their tea and admire the beauty of the garden. But their comradely silence was broken by the arrival of another Tokage. His armour and the banner at his back marked him as the captain of the household guard. He kneeled deeply before speaking. “My lord, Satsugi and his party have arrived. They await you at the gates.” Isamu rose from the bench and downed what was left in his cup. “Very well then. Inform our guest that I will arrive shortly.” The captain nodded then turned and left. Isamu turned to Ryoto. “Well old friend, I guess it cannot be helped now. But before I go, I want you to promise me one thing.”
“What is it?” Ryoto said.
“Promise me that if I fail, you will succeed where I did not. Promise me that that you will slay Satsugi!” Isamu exclaimed. Ryoto placed one hand on Isamu’s shoulder. His voice carried an intensity that contrasted with his usual measured tone. “I promise, my friend. If you die here I will see to it that Satsugi rots in the deepest circle of hell. You and your brother will have your vengeance even if it is the last thing I do!” Isamu smiled. “You are a good friend, Ryoto. I have faith in you.” The sky was flinty and grey as Isamu and Ryoto stepped beyond the ancient gate of his clan’s estate. Most of the household guard as well as Isamu’s father had already gathered outside to observe the duel. And beyond them on a wide path paved with smooth cobblestones stood Satsugi. The bloodthirsty warrior was clad in robes of fine azure. His posture was flippant and disrespectful, radiating a sense of boredom at the coming fight. His hand rested on the hilt of the single blade that was sheathed at his hip, the infamous Muramasa. It was said a hundred Sakurai had fallen to its razor edge. And though Isamu did not put much stock in the legends and hearsay, he had no doubts that the blade was as lethal as they said. A group of masked footsoldiers followed Satsugi, each one armed with spears and a club. “Well, well, well, my honored opponent finally appears!” Satsugi said, spreading his arm wide in challenge. “Are you ready to die like your brother, pup?” An angry growl escaped Isamu’s throat at the disrespect his opponent showed to the solemn challenge. “Careful, Isamu. Do not allow your anger to control you.” Ryoto muttered. “Focus only on yourself.” “I’m fine!” Isamu said. “Go wait with my father. I will try to finish this quickly.”
Ryoto nodded and went to stand by the older Tokage. Both duelists approached each other on the cobbled road. They locked eyes for a moment, exchanging a hateful glare in silence. And then without a word the duel began. Satsugi exploded forward, using the momentum of his step to add force to his first strike. Isamu was barely able to move his sword up in time to parry the vicious strike. He pushed back with his blade in an attempt to knock the older warrior off balance before landing his own blow but Satsugi easily avoided the strike. “So slow!” he taunted as he stepped back. “Even your brother was faster than this, and he had half his guts hanging out!” Satsugi said as he moved in again with another flurry of strikes. Isamu desperately dodged and parried each one, but he was slowly being pushed back. His bladework had always been phenomenal when he sparred his fellow initiates during training, but now it was woefully inadequate against a truly skilled foe like Satsugi. As he fought, Ryoto’s words from the previous night echoed through his head. His friend had been right, against an opponent like Satsugi Isamu was simply too inexperienced. He never stood a chance. But he could not give up now! To simply roll over and die was anathema to everything he stood for as a Sakurai. But if he allowed himself to stay on the defensive like he was, then surely Satsugi would eventually wear him down and deliver a coup-de-grace, an ignoble end. Instead, he had to focus everything he had on the ending the fight now-one decisive strike to eliminate his foe. Time seemed to slow as Isamu focused all his attention on Satsugi’s next blow. With a quick movement he dodged to the side and brought his blade up at Satsugi’s head. Putting all his force behind the strike, Isamu let loose an angry cry as the lethal edge whistled towards his opponent’s exposed throat. But with a movement so quick it almost seemed unnatural, Satsugi bent backwards and avoided the lethal blow. It simply scratched his chin before continuing on, leaving Isamu dangerously off-balance. “Hah! Not bad, pup!” Satsugi said. “But not good enough!” Then with tremendous force, Satsugi slammed his foot into Isamu’s belly. The younger Sakurai bent double as all the air was forced from his lungs and his eyes filled with fear as he watched Satsugi raise his blade. Isamu did not cry out as the wicked blade pierced his abdomen and erupted from his back. He did not even feel the pain. Instead he simply glanced down at the crimson blood spilling from his own body before moving his trembling gaze to meet Satsugi’s. “I… lost…” he said
“And now I have a more important task to deal with.” Satsugi snarled as he brutally shoved Isamu’s body from the blade. Though his senses were fading, Isamu could still hear Satsugi as he pointed his blade at his father. He could also make out more and more of his opponent’s black clad footsoldiers appearing. “For too long you have been a thorn in Kyō Fujisaki’s side, Master Ryuu! And now with your progeny dead I’ve come to enforce his judgment! Prepare yourself for tonight you will be reunited with your sons!” Satsugi called.
The sounds of battle began to echo as Isamu blacked out.
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When he came to, Isamu did not know how long he’d been out. But night had fallen and the bloody moon hung low in the sky. Glancing around, he began to notice the corpses. Many belonged to Satsugi’s footsoldiers but enough bore the blue and white armour of the Sato household guard to paint a grim picture. From the numbers it appeared most of the guardsmen had died here.
The entire scene was bathed in a flickering orange light. Isamu cried out when he saw the source of the light. His ancestral estate was aflame, casting great palls of smoke into the sky. Even at a distance, Isamu could feel intense heat radiating from his childhood home
Slowly Isamu stood and began to stumble forward, using his sword as a support. Miraculously Satsugi’s blade must’ve missed any vital organs, but the finishing blow still left him weak from shock and blood loss.
As he slowly picked his way through the bodies, Isamu began to call out. “R-Ryoto! Father!” he yelled, anxiously hoping for a response. And when he finally received one he almost collapsed in his hurry to reach it.
“I.. samu... “ came the weak voice again, almost drowned out by crackling flame. Though indistinct, Isamu could still tell it belonged to his childhood friend.
“Ryoto? Ryoto!” Pained tears welled in Isamu’s eyes as he saw the state his beloved friend was in. Propped up against the walls that encircled the estate, two spears had been lanced through his chest. His face had also been brutally battered by clubs. But for his injuries a quartet of enemy corpses were also scattered around him, cut down by the dying Sakurai. Ryoto’s katana was embedded in the stomach of one.
“I’m… sorry… Isamu... “ Ryoto said, his calm voice slurred by the blood pooling in his mouth. “I could not… avenge Itsuki… Your father fought… like a legend… but it was not enough… to stop Satsugi... ”
Isamu clasped his friend’s bloody hand in his own. “Be still now, Ryoto! I will get help. Just hang on.” he said.
“No… need...” Ryoto responded. “I know I am… dying… Please, let me die… with my sword in hand…”
Isamu did not argue with this last request. He simply plucked the sword from where it rested in the soldier’s corpse and placed it in his friend’s hands. Numb fingers wrapped around the hilt and a smile spread across Ryoto’s bloodied face.
“Thank you… Isamu… You were… a good friend… Good… luck...” Ryoto said. Then with a rattle, one last breath escaped his lungs and the light of life left his eyes. Ryoto was dead.
A scream of anguish escaped Isamu’s lips. That bastard Satsugi would pay for this! He would rip his guts out! He would… Isamu’s thoughts of revenge began to fade as blood loss once again took its toll. With a snarl of fury at his mouth the young Sakurai collapsed next to his friend. Once again, the night was quiet save for the crackle of the flames.
--Present Day--
With a start, Isamu woke from his slumber. Not a week went by that he didn’t have that exact dream, painfully reliving every event of the fateful day. He should have died there, if not monks from the nearby pagoda-temple who had come to investigate the flames and found him alive. They had nursed him back to health, but the anger in his heart prevented further stay in their care.
Since that day Isamu had wandered the Whalebone Islands, forever searching for the bastard who destroyed everything he held dear. After the events of the duel Satsugi had disappeared from the service of Kyō Fujisaki’s army leaving Isamu with no leads. But he followed every rumor and scrap of information he could get his hands on, always training, forever preparing for the day where he would meet that hated warrior in battle once again.
As Isamu stirred from his slumber a pair of childish shrieks drew his attention. Two children from a nearby village had approached him while he slept beneath the branches of a gnarled old oak. They must’ve mistaken him for some traveling vagabond when he passed through their sleepy hamlet and had come to investigate. He sighed. If only they could’ve seen him fifteen years ago, then there would be no mistaking his true status. But for now it was better to remain anonymous, just another traveller wandering the Whalebone Islands.
Isamu stood up, brushed the dirt from his worn traveling robes, adjusted the conical hat that had covered his face, and tightened his sword belt. He had lingered for too long. It was time to move.
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The next chapter of the story. I had a much better introductory section but I accidentally deleted it and didn't notice until it was too late.
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Post by Nepty on Sept 21, 2014 12:53:20 GMT
Woooo!
This really good. Very good actually. Do continue, I await with baited breath.
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