Entry 1: The Rising Evil
My name is Kisora Kawanari. I am a Warrior of the Burudoragon clan and an allied comrade to the Mojon Hon clan of Osaka. And things have gone to hell. The fight to protect our land has become a losing battle. We prepared for their arrival, but it was not enough. The power they wielded was beyond anything we could handle…all was nearly lost.
The beginning of this story starts back home. The 2nd home, I should say, the Mojon Hon. Many months have passed since the ordeal with the Burudoragon’s former clan leader Michio Yamagata, a vile man who tried to have me killed due to my Feral Side. Soon after our quarrels had been dealt with, relations between my clan and the Mojon Hon needed to be re-established. His tyrannous acts in his campaign to kill me nearly caused a war between the two. Which would have led to the deaths of many innocents, but luckily for me, I prevailed and overcame these hardships and defeated him, revealing to everyone back home what kind of monster he was.
After all of it was done, much work was needed to build back our bridges with the Mojon Hon. I was glad we began to have strong connections again. As months passed, we began to send more support to one another. Supplies and other necessities that each would need or desire. Some of our Warriors even began visiting each other’s home clans to learn about the people and culture. To see what makes us different and how our stories began. We were back to who we were. Seeing the world for what it is in its own unique beauty. Throughout our times as allies, though, I thought to myself the irony of it. How Michio thought clans such as Mojon Hon do not deserve our help. Seeing it now, it’s clear that everyone would disagree. A clan without enemies is an easy target, after all.
My time during these months has been hectic. To ensure peace is held firm, traveling back and forth between my clan and Mojon Hon’s has become more of a tiring job. More so than actual fighting was. Fighting was never an issue with me being a Warrior and a Dragon. We live for fighting but ensuring my people don’t start trouble with anyone else. That was more stressful. Making sure things are settled correctly and that everyone is at peace. This is a job for a political figure or nobleman. I am neither.
Occasionally, I’d like to take detours from my travels and visit my friend Saito, a farmer whom I met during my trips back when I was considered a threat to my clan. Along with him was his daughter Asuka, a kind young girl who helped her father tend to the gardens and animals on the farm. When I first met them, they greeted me with kindness and generosity I had not known for years. Viewing myself as more than just a common Warrior. Thanks to Saito, I developed an addiction to pancakes.
Most of the time, Dragons would favor meat over them, but pancakes became my newfound favorite. Round and fluffy with syrup glazed all over them. They sure are a delectable treat to eat. However, he wasn’t alone; his daughter taught me about the dealings of hair care and why it’s essential to wash it. She helped me cut my hair and gave it my traditional style. Over time as my hair grew longer again, I began to learn from her how to braid it myself.
Just in case it was ever messy during battle. Now my hair has become favorable amongst the women in my clan. Well, we didn’t put effort into taking care of our hair; we just focused on the utility of it most of the time. Now we can make hair both beautiful and valuable as Warriors. Some even assumed that it was done by someone in Mojon Hon seeing my hair. Still, after explaining that Asuka was the originator, some became curious as if she was a hairstylist. Some even assumed that she was from the Eden of the East or the Higashinoeden. The style of my hair was close to resembling their style. I’ve never been to the Higashinoeden, but I’d want to go one day. The tales my mother would tell about the city of Nagata pictured it as heaven on earth. A true paradise of peace.
However, my time away from Mojon Hon has undoubtedly taken a toll on me. Though I am a Warrior to their service, I still have little time to see the people I want to see. Aimi’s birthday was sometime in June; I was able to see her, but not much after that. As for Maki, I only know that she has been assigned recon assignments. Scouting for any signs of trouble coming or investigating neighboring clans we haven’t allied with yet. After her birthday, Aimi was kept in the Mojon Hon to train more on her First Seat abilities. Work on better defending herself in case a problematic situation arises.
Her mother, Kaede Sugiyama, felt unsure about her daughter being sent back into the field after the Wings of the Sage and Michio incidents. Kaede realized that to defeat foes like that, she needed to train Aimi harder than she could handle. In a way, she tried to create her own version of me. In the end, her training was successful but changed her. The sweet young kunoichi I knew was absent for a while. I continued my tasks of consistently watching the partnership of the Burudoragon and Mojon Hon for a time, and things went peacefully as always. Then disaster decided to strike as if the heavens had other plans. I was helping unload a wagon of goods for the shops. The usual meats, clothing materials, and warm blankets. When I was finished, I walked over to a bench to rest for a short while. Shortly after, my friend Atsushi, an old apprentice of my father and now the forge master of the clan, came by to sit with me. She handed me a cup of tea and said, “Here, even you need a breather from time to time Kisora.”
I chuckled and replied, “I appreciate it, Atsushi. Honestly, I wish it was less stressful. Every day, I worry if something bad threatens this truce”.
She patted my back, “Nonsense child, you are doing tremendous work with the clans. Your father would be proud of what you do”.
Before I was able to thank her, I started to hear a commotion coming from the direction of the west side entrance. I stood up and proceeded on my way to investigate what the trouble was.
As I approached the gates, I saw a guard shouting at a mysterious person dressed in torn robes. Covering only the upper portion of his body. I approached the guard and asked what the trouble was going on. He replied, “Sorry, lady Kisora, this man just showed up not too long ago. I asked him what his business here was, but he won’t reply. He just stands there and ignores what I say”.
I slowly walked to the hooded man and asked him, “Sir, why are you ignoring my friend’s questions?”
The hooded man finally spoke; with a low-toned voice, he asked me, “Is your name Kisora Kawanari? Descendant of the Burudoragon?”
I was confused but grew cautious about why he asked for me specifically, “Depends on who wants to know. Are you a messenger from the Mojon Hon?”
He let out a tiny chuckle, causing me to feel more concerned about his presence. Something was not right about him. Shortly after, I was right to be concerned. He slowly tilted his head up, causing the hood to fall backward. His face was revealed to be covered in strange markings, grinning with a sadistic smile. One I’m too familiar with pulling off, and his eyes…I looked directly into them and saw only evil. The great evil that I have never seen before and darkness blacker than my own darkest memories. This man… was not a normal Wielder.
After a few seconds, he yells to me, “Your time has come, half breed Scum!” he dashes at me with incredible speed. Pulling out a short jagged edged blade. As he attacks, I quickly unsheathe the Hellreaver and block his attack. Shattering his sword to shards. As he stood in shock that his weapon was destroyed, I yelled to the guard beside me, “Go alert the village, NOW!”
Without hesitation, he turned and returned to the village to alert more fighters. I turned back to the man in rags, now appearing with a crooked smile. He began to snicker and then speak to me.
Man in Rags: “It seems that the legend of the Hell Reaver was not exaggerated. And for it to be in the hands of a Feral? No wonder Michio had so much trouble”.
Me: “Michio? I see.... so you gave him the Sourukira, right?”
Man in Rags: “That’s right, we figured he’d be too weak to control it, but it sure was fun watching him tear your clan apart by its influence. It’s a shame, though, that he didn’t fulfill his role”.
Me: “So now you plan on facing me directly instead of getting others to do it for you?”
Man in Rags: “Oh, Kawanari, that’s not all we plan to do.”
Me: “What the hell does that mean?!”
His answer came in the form of another attack. He lunged forward again and deployed a set of serrated claws from his forearms. As he took swipes, I dodged as each attack came close but missed the mark. Avoiding every strike as I could, he yelled, “The Dark will soon come and take over this land, do not resist!”
As he continued, the ground lit a blaze of fire surrounding the man in rags. Trapping him in a ring of fire. This was not my doing but that of another blue dragon. “People like you should know better than to pick fights with people like us.”
I turned to see who caused the ring of fire around the assailant. To my surprise, I saw that it was Haruko. An elite Warrior from the Wings of the Sage within our clan. Using her ring blade to set and control the flames, Haruko says, “You just can’t help to keep yourself out of trouble, can you?”
I smiled and nodded to her, then turned my gaze back to the assailant, whose rags had burned away from the flames. He was revealed to have on an unfamiliar armor that was not known to us. He shouts, “Do you really believe this can hold me?”
Haruko replies, “It’s not meant to hold you; it’s meant to burn you! Tell us who you work for, and I might turn down the heat.”
He begins to snicker at Haruko. He feels her intimidation is child’s play. He replies, “Hmm, simple child’s act from reptiles. I will show you what power is!”
He begins charging a magenta-looking energy into his left arm. As he is, I question what he is about to do. My question is shortly answered when he uses his power to destroy the ring with a single punch creating a shockwave and knocking all of us back.
Standing back up from the ground, I see this Magenta-looking Eou swirling around him. It was dark, not natural compared to every other Wielder with reddish Eou.
He yells to us, “THE DARKNESS GUIDES MY HAND!”
Suddenly, his Eou takes the shape of chained sickles wrapping around his arms. Melding to the skin as it begins to sizzle. I could see that it was hurting him, but he looked like he enjoyed the pain. Feeling his flesh burning was a sick form of pleasure to this man. He reminded me too much of the rouges I’ve encountered. Sick men love the feel of pain and death to their touch. He needed to die. The man dashed at me and began swinging the sickles toward me. I began to dodge and block most of his strikes. Only a few of them managed to slice my arms and legs. I sprint forward with my own barrage of attacks dealing more damage to him than he could inflict. Damaging his left arm and a few strikes on the midsection. As we continued, he began to become agitated. Yelling me, “Why won’t you be a good girl and die already?!”
He threw one sickle at me to try and slash my throat, but I was able to back away just in time. Instead, he ends up tearing off a portion of my vest, revealing only a slight view of my chest. He retrieved his weapon and prepared for another attack, but before he swung the blade, he showed a look of pure shock. He looked at me and said, “You…You have the Markings?”
I was confused about what he was talking about then I saw where he was looking. He was looking at my chest where the tattoo I have had since I was born was. I reply to him, “The markings? What the hell are you talking about?”
After I asked him what he meant, he destroyed the Eou conjured weapons and said, “Seems there is a change in plans. The shadows have plans for you; it seems blue dragon”.
Shortly after, he retreated into the woods, disappearing from my view, even from my Dragon Senses. This fight made me wonder if this man was indeed from the evil mother and father had mentioned. If so, then the time has come that they wish to target me. The attack made me realize this would be no simple fight. I could already tell this could prove even more challenging than my fight with Michio. The power he displayed was violent, filled with hatred I had never felt before. Which is saying a lot on its own. Such evil should never exist to make a Wielder such as that in this world. One thing that still puzzled me, however, was the tattoo on my chest. From what my mother told me, I had received these at birth. My status as a Burudoragon was like my father’s… but something was beginning to feel off. Why did the assassin decide to retreat when he said it? Why did he refer to them as the markings? One thing was sure, I needed answers. Answers to what is happening and to what these people, this evil really is. And I know exactly who’s first to give me those answers, Michio Yamagata. What kind of Eou was it, though?
I arrived at the holding cells after helping Haruko and some of the guards secure the vicinity of the village. So that there won’t be any more surprises. Here at the cells, we hold trespassers or criminals such as Rouges or anyone who tries to cause destruction or harm to anything or anyone in our clan. Even if it is minor, such as trespassing or thieving, we cut a deal for them to work off their sentence briefly. Such as having help with farm work or cleaning areas we send them to. However, for crimes such as murder, we deliver a much harsher punishment. It may be the modern age, but our old ways of torture are still influential today.
As I pass many of the cells, I reach the end of the corridor to the most prominent holding cell. Opening the door, I could feel the heat emitting from the room. Michio still had power but was significantly weakened by our last battle. Michio was suffering the effect of the Sourukira’s destruction. His soul was latched to the blade when he took hold of it, and now with the sword gone, part of it was gone as well. He had little of his own Life Eou left inside to make him who he was.
I entered the room using my Dragon Senses to see clearly since there was no light. At the far end of the room, I could see a faint heat signature kneeling at the barred window. As I approached, I disabled my senses and saw him before me in the low-lit room. His skin looked grey, older, and less muscular than before. As if his life force was draining from him. I walk closer to him, and he begins to speak as I do.
Michio: “It seems they have finally come, as they said they would.”
Me: “These people… they’re the coming evil I’ve heard about, aren’t they? Exactly what are they?”
Michio: “You have seen the Eou they possess?”
Me: “I’m pretty sure you know that I have. I know you’re not hard of hearing. What goes on outside that window.”
Michio: “They never spoke the name they go by… but they are the cult of an ancient evil… one that plans to return to our world.”
I walk closer to Michio and place my hand on his head.
Me: “You’re getting worse, Michio.”
Michio: “Save your attempts of keeping me well… I am already on the edge of death. I see now that using the Sourukira was a foolhardy attempt… one that fueled my desire… Kisora, may you grant a dying man a final request?”
Me: “Name it, but I will only grant it if you answer my last question honestly.”
Michio: “Of course.”
Me: “The tattoo on my chest… the assassin referred to them as the markings. What did he mean by that?”
Michio: “I… am afraid I do not know of that… only that every Kawanari before you were born with the same tattoo. The same yellow eyes. The eyes that made many think you were something else entirely”.
Me: “I see… thank you. So, what is your last request?”
Michio: “Grant me the death you denied me… my time is near its end, and I’d rather die by the sword than slow and painful rot”.
Looking at how weak he was becoming, I saw no alternative. I hoped that it wouldn’t turn out like this. But thinking about it, this was mercy compared to leaving him like this. Also, we are Samurai; living like this is worse than death. I unsheathed my blade and stood at his side. I raised my sword and asked him if he had any last words for everyone to hear. He replied with a weaker raspier voice, “Yes… please forgive my foolishness. There was only intent for the good of you all, my people”.
With his final words spoken, I swung my sword and severed his head from his body. Blood pooled out, covering almost the floor and staining my feet red. A most uncomfortable feeling, but I sheathed my blade and bowed to honor this Warrior. This Samurai who had made mistakes can now rest truthfully as a Samurai.
Michio was gone. Dead by my hand. Something I should have done months ago after our fight, but he wasn’t worth it at the time. Making him live in shame for his mistakes felt like punishment enough. I think back and realize that maybe I should have killed him. Only then he wouldn’t have suffered the way he did. His life was slowly being drained away, and by what? A power that mortals such as us have no right toying with. A power that should be kept sealed within the Dark Realms, as we call them, or the Evil Seals, as all know them. Hidden out there to keep the wrong hands from getting hold of them. One to never see the light of our world. Oh, Michio, you fool, if only you were more accepting of change. If only your life did not need to end this way. Suffering at the hands of a dark curse only for me to grant you mercy. I, a woman you tried to kill once and who spared you once it was over. Ultimately, you still got what you wanted, but I still cannot see it as an honorable death. One that Warriors like us deserve. You should have fallen during the battle, not like this in a dark holding cell. The world will change, and many new threats and allies will come. We can remain who we are but become better versions who survive the next wave. One far larger and more complicated. Otherwise, we will fall either by outside forces or those inside. After the events transpired, I took it upon myself to send out a messenger to the Mojon Hon., Informing the leaders that I would be away for some time. My people need me for this troubling time they face.
