https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2OvVeEJr7U
Thunder roars as the sound of metal blades clang and clash inside the city. Two factions at war. Two groups tied to the same home, valuing the same prize, fight for two different leaders who both hold the title as its greatest warriors. The leaders of Septentrionalis, the city of the North. Warriors clad in armor meet as the battle grows messier, with fighting in the streets. There is a claustrophobic feeling as streets which can barely hold a full cart rolling by now have dozens of soldiers occupying the same space, with some room only opening up as buildings are caught on fire, smoldering in a blazing inferno. Others, more experienced, thrive as the battle grows more dangerous. One warrior in particular appears to be slicing through enemies while protecting his own hind end.
The warrior wears very simple leather armor, what little ornamentation and heraldry that once adorned it has been stripped and shattered, leaving only the faint remnants of memories of victories and crowns once worn and lost, battered and beaten by years of use and abuse in countless battles. His hair is cut short, his head unhelmed as we see sunken, dark eyes staring down a pair of challengers, lowly soldiers called upon to throw themselves into the vicious storm of steel and blood.
Smoke and fog linger in the area as the warrior takes a deep breath. The mist and smoke are inhaled, and trickle from the corners of the warrior’s mouth like a dragon about to unleash fiery hell. And while there is no fire that is breathed out, the warrior, grasping a well-worn longaxe, charges his would-be challengers like a demon.
The battle does not take long. Lowly grunts like the ones that have thrown themselves at this veteran warrior are only dangerous in great numbers or with underhanded tactics. But these peons were too foolish to realize the situation. One barely has enough time to dodge the warrior’s first swing, narrowly avoiding losing his head. However, the warrior swiftly batters him in the knee with the blunt end of the longaxe, toppling him. As the soldier falls, the warrior brings the longaxe down, caving in his chest with a vicious blow.
The other soldier, shocked by the ferocity of the warrior’s assault, manages to regain enough sense to rush and attack with his own ax. Instinctually, the warrior brings his longaxe to block the attack, but the soldier’s blade manages to sink into the haft and shatter it.
Undeterred and with wild eyes and bloodlust, the warrior takes the two broken halves of the pole and unleashes a brutal series of strikes to the legs, arms, and head of this grunt. The peon is unable to weather the storm as he staggers to his knee, giving the warrior enough time to use his foot to flick an abandoned, chipped sword laying on the ground to his hand.
It only takes one thrust to the heart.
With adrenaline wearing off, the warrior exhales and catches his breath. This skirmish is over. But it’s far from the last. There’s more blood that must be shed before the battle is over and control over Septentrionalis is finally settled. The once-crowned warrior, paying no heed to the carnage left in his wake, taking no time to even consider it, turns his ear to the sound of another fracas. Flicking the blood from his newly-acquired sword, the warrior heads off to face the next challenge.
Little does this warrior know, he’s been watched. Sitting on the top of a tower which sits outside of the main battle is a mysterious creature taking shelter from the rain. Her nine tails curl with thick white fur. Her face has several markings on it, with two red dots, and a symbol into her forehead. A kitsune. The fox rests her paws looking onwards. Conflicts like this always intrigue her. The reasons people fight, their motivations, and how they do and the willingness to destroy their own home just to rebuild it their way.. The similar markings on the banners of both sides show a bond, a kinship, and yet they fight and collide. Then there is this warrior who is thriving. There is a sense of familiarity with him, as if she’s met him in another life.
Her ears perk up as she hears near-by, two different conversations. The two groups are unaware of the presence of the other or the Kitsune. She looks down to see a large man talking to his soldiers. He has a thin shaved head and a beard. Next to him is a skinny man with a child-like demeanor. The soldier in front of them has a large curly mustache. It is Baxulus alongside his circle.
“My Prince,” One loyal soldier asks Baxulus, kneeling before him. “They have over-ran the city, how could this have happened?”
“What does it look like?” The Bastard Prince scoffs at his soldier. “Someone let down their defenses to let him back in.”
The king is rather blunt with his soldiers. “If any of you are alive by the end of this, I’d have you killed… and if you do die, I will find a wizard to revive you just to kill you fucks again!”
“Now now, Baxulus.” His friend talks to him as if he was a child. “What did we say about unfriendly language?”
For some reason, Baxulus is unable to find the willingness to talk back to his colleague. He looks at him and his anger for a brief moment is gone. “I understand, Jermius.” Realizing he needs to keep his image, he shouts at the soldiers in front of him.
“Listen here, punks! I thought I could have handed the keys to this land to Parrus after he managed to pull out a win after the Battle of Saskatchewan, but he had to lose it to the hoard of Peacocks.” Clenching his hands, he’s seething in rage and disappointment in Parrus. “I thought the Battle where we crushed him in Oxmeci was an exception but now I see the truth…”
“And that is?”
Baxulus lets out a mighty shout, knowing that his rage is masked by the ongoing battle around him. “That he is no longer fit to rule!”
“But sir, he still managed to get his army within the city once again. What can-”
Grabbing the throat of his soldier with both his hands, Baxulus raises him high in the air, shaking him and trying to choke the life out of him. Jermius immediately steps in, pleading with the Prince.
“Put him down, now! He is one of our friends! We do not hurt our friends, remember?”
Baxulus looks at the man he’s choking, then back to Jermius. He places the soldier back down who is coughing, trying to catch his breath.
“What do you say?” Jermius pressures Baxulus to apologize.
“Sorry…” The Fat Prince says with gritted teeth. He tries to get back on track. “We need to strategize before we lose the city. The storm has made the marshland impassable for our catapults. Now we’re forced into tight quarters. With these conditions, we’re bound to lose more men.”
“We can win with the power of friendship!”
Baxulus inhales, trying to not get involved with this. “And what friendship ‘tactics’ will that involve?”
“I know! It will take a lot of teamwork, but as an army of friends, we can defend Septentrionalis and the very sanctity of friendship! Come with me, I will show you the way!”
Jermius with the energy and vigor of a kid on a sugar rush, runs off. Baxulus gives a scowl to his soldier, keeping his strong illusion before following his friend along.
Turning to the otherside, she sees Parrus, leader of the other faction, go outside of cover. He is on the other side of the wall where Baxulus was. His short brown hair is soaked from the rain with his hand stroking his brown thin beard. His soldiers behind him, he looks off in the direction where Baxulus went.
“His voice carries on forever. Baxulus is near-by. But I don’t think we can get to him.” He hums with his observation. “At least not yet.”
“Parrus.” The warrior asks. “What should we do now? We got into the city, but the battle is not won yet.”
“You should have confidence.” He responds. “I have been in this situation before. I know this city better than anyone else, and I sense good fortune. In fact, I consulted the Gods the morning before battle and I saw six auspicious birds. That should be a sign if anything.”
“We need a strategy.” His other soldier explains. “He is known to be brutal. Do you not remember the Battle of Oxmeci? You were left for dead!”
“You don’t think I know that?” The Prodigal Prince is ever confident.
“Why should we even fight? Look around you.” His men plead with him. “At the rate we are going, there will not be much left!”
Glancing above, the smoke from several buildings continues to rise, creating a glow from the flame over the horizon with embers flying above. Even with the brutal rain, the fire is not yet out, likely man made caused by a type of oil or chemical. The damage is great. With the storm, the danger rises. But he can’t bring himself to abandon this.
“Because this is home.” He says. “I can name every brick I have put into this. The names of those who have come from this city are great. Some used it as their place to go on to new avenues. Many had their greatest triumphs here…” Taking a deep sigh, he looks down and picks up a stone from a collapsed building. “I have had my greatest achievements here. I dare not think of what someone like Baxulus will do. I must steer the future of this city again. I-”
Clenching the stone in his hand, Parr shakes. “I will not be embarrassed by him again and let him enact another reign of terror.”
His two soldiers exchange glances and are in shock of how much this man cares for his city. The passion, the desire for an ideal future. Even looking from above, the Kitsune is moved by this display. The soldiers nod.
“We understand. What is the plan?”
“Let me remind you, the casualties are only increasing. If we don’t take control now, then we may be overrun!”
Looking up, Parrus’ eyes glance towards one of the taller towers in the city. It is thicker than most, but its stone supports are already taking a beating.
“Let me find some of our men and we will lure a large number of enemies West. Once they are past the bell tower, we will take the tower down to trap them between it and the city wall. There, we should have full reign to attack until they surrender, or they are all dead.”
“But that tower has been around for hundreds of years!” One of them says in shock. “It is a major landmark!”
“Maybe, but sometimes sacrifices need to be made. I rebuilt this city before.” Looking back, there is a sure look on the face of Parrus. “I can do it again.”
“Affirmative.’ The other soldier shouts. “I will meet you by the West gate. We will collect ourselves and be ready for the attack.”
The warrior in Parrus’ army heads off. He is about to join him, but the other soldier grabs his hand, giving it a small shake for attention.
“Before we go, I must ask you something.”
Turning to his guard, Parr lets him go ahead.
“Do you ever think that there’s more than this?” He stresses. “More than Septentrionalis?”
“Aye.” Parr sighs. “I have. Time and time I have seen the possibility to move on, but nothing ever happened. In the end, this place is my responsibility, so I always come back to it. When a Golden Opportunity may come for me to move on, I will seize it at last. For the time being, Septentrionalis is what I know. It is all I know, and I will not rest until it is mine again and Baxulus will finally pay for all he’s done…”
There’s coldness in his voice as he makes the threat to Baxulus. Not needing another word, the commando points ahead and the two meet up to prepare for an attack to the West.
Seeing the two warring groups go off in opposite directions, the kitsune’s attention goes back towards the experienced soldier. Despite the scars on his body, he is still in strong fighting shape. Towards the town square, there’s a fight towards the fountain and several enemies are gaining on him. The fox looks up to see the flash of thunder in the distance and covers herself. Not bothered, the warrior ducks a swing of the sword and goes low, thrusting his shoulder into the knight’s exposed ribs. He picks him up and bowls over a group of enemies.
Feeling a rush of energy, he gets up and tosses his sword, begging someone to fight him hand to hand. No soldier here appears to be able to best him. Until-
CRASH.
Lightning shoots down onto the battlefield creating a shockwave heard throughout the city! This is enough, finally, for any remaining soldiers on both sides unaffected by the storm to run for it. Calls to retreat are heard from both sides. Looking towards the blast, the kitsune leaps down and rushes towards the impact sight, trying to survey the damage. The corpses of the warriors caught in the middle lie around the city as smoke rises from several buildings. The likelihood of survivors is slim. Looking towards the city square, the thoughts of the warrior who caught her eye runs through her head and she runs as fast as her paws can take her to where she last saw him.
The lonely warrior’s wounds, both from the myriad of battles and from the hammer of heaven itself, are caked in crimson. The blood loss is its own problem, but…the swelling bruise from the warrior’s head where a fragment of rubble rocketed by the shockwave of the lightning strike is a more immediate concern.
Dropping to a knee, the warrior clutches his head, squinting his eyes in response to the throbbing pain and the loss of blood. Struggling to keep his senses, the warrior growls out.
“No…not now. There’s still…I still have to keep fighting. This battle isn't over…”
As the haze in his mind continues to cloud his thoughts, the aching in his muscles and the sanguine flowing from his injuries, he manages to catch sight of something strange. Instinctually, he reaches for…something. Not the sword he was carrying before, as that has been lost in the chaos of the lightning…but any weapon, anything he can use.
However, it’s for naught as he collapses into himself. It’s all he can do to not drift away, to keep his focus even for another few seconds as the fox creature approaches.
Walking up to him, the Kitsune sits, tilting her head. His eyes slowly open, his vision hazy of the world around him. Putting her paw on her hand, she comforts him.
“Rest, stranger, you do not need to fight me.” She says, her voice calm, speaking English, though it is clearly her second language. “I mean no harm to you.”
The warrior closes his eyes, slipping into unconsciousness.
A sound of a nearby stream runs in the distance, creating a sense of tranquility and calm. A light breeze from the outside creates a gentle cooling sensation as the Exiled Warrior groggily opens his eyes. The blood has been cleaned and his wounds have healed. There would be scars, of course…but what’s a few more at this point if you continue to survive? The throbbing in his head where the rubble connected during the battle is subdued, to where the pain is still there…but his senses are sharp and aware.
Covering some of his wounds are bandages, with some red from blood staining the gauze. Looking around, he finds himself in a somewhat traditional Japanese style home, as if someone took a home from their country and rebuilt it here. There’s sliding partitions which remain open as the storm has passed, letting some of the cool evening air in. Several dolls and statues are along the wall, several of which have fox imagery. The floor has a unique tiled pattern with bamboo wood. Blinking, he looks behind him as steam goes off for a kettle and a woman goes to move it off the stove. The young woman looks to be no older than her early 20’s, wearing a traditional kimono dress with red floral patterns. Covering her head is a hood which obscures her identity. She moves two tea cups over and pours herself and the guest two cups.
“I see someone is awake.” She comments as she puts the tea on a tray, with her accent, it is clear English is not her first language, though her comprehension is strong. “With the state you were in, I thought you would never wake again.”
The Exiled Warrior sits up as he rolls his head, trying to loosen his tightened neck muscles. “I suppose I have you to thank for this?”
As her guest points to the bloody bandages, the woman simply nods.
“I found you on the battlefield that was once a city.” The woman explains, placing the tray down and taking a seat next to him. The two tea cups are ornate with fox designs on them. “She sure has a thing for foxes, huh?” He must be thinking to himself. But speaking of, his mind quickly flashes to the last thing he saw, or he at least thought he saw. So, he has to ask.
“So, you were there?” The warrior asks, eyes narrowing as he picks up the tea and brings it to his nose. The warm, cloying sense of the tea is soothing, but there’s a look of concern and mistrust in the older man’s eyes.
“Relax, it is made with Ginkgo Biloba Leaves. My sibling made it for me when I was ill as a child. Perfectly safe and delicious.”
The woman simply chuckles at her guest’s mistrust as she brings her own cup to her lips and drinks. The gesture is noted as the warrior simply nods and takes a sip of his own.
“What about the nine-tails?
“The what?”
“The nine-tailed fox. I’m guessing that creature is yours? Companion, familiar?”
The woman simply shrugs as she takes another sip. “I don’t think I caught your name.”
“Probably because I didn’t give it, or didn’t really have much of a chance to give it,” the man retorts, noting the woman’s subtle, yet clear attempt to avoid answering his question. Still, it’s not as if he’s in a great position to be rejecting the woman’s hospitality. Besides…the warrior is no fool, and has his own suspicions as to the answer to his question.
With a sigh and another sip of the tea, the warrior finally answers, “I’ve had a few names. King of Vagabonds. The Last Dragon. But for the purposes of formalities, Shinjitsu will do.”
“Nice to meet you, Shinjitsu.” She gives a respectful bow to him. “I have my own nicknames people refer to me, but you may call me Riso.” Even under her hood, Shinjitsu could see a warm smile from the woman, a sight rare for him, let alone the acts of kindness she has shown. There’s always something suspicious of it.
“So…mind telling me why you decided to stick your neck out to help a man you don’t know?”
“You were in need of assistance.” She gently bows on her tea, trying to let it cool. The leaves are already beginning to steep the water, creating a green tint. “I learned not too long ago that a small deed can go a long way. Sometimes you never know what a person is going through. If you lift someone up then the world becomes better.”
The preaching from the young woman creates even more skepticism from the Last Dragon.
“You say that as if it was something as small as taking care of someone’s companion for an afternoon. I was in the midst of a battle.” He stresses with his voice. “Riso, was it? You do not appear as someone who would do well in a battle. You could have easily died.”
The man underestimating her only leads to a coy smile on the woman. “If you would get to know me, you would find I am full of surprises. But I was watching from a safe distance. Once the lightning struck the city and I saw men in the hundreds retreat, I knew there may be someone in danger. So I went to check. You were one of the only survivors who did not already flee.”
Riso hums, taking a sip of her tea. “I do wonder what the conflict was about? I have not been in this region for some time. I had matters to attend to at home, and I have never been to Septentrionalis, only hearing bits and rumors.”
Sensing that his tea is likely safe to drink, Shinjitsu takes a careful sip. There is a woody aroma from it with a gentle spice from the taste. Even with a single sip, he feels warmth go through his body. The warrior explains.
“It’s always like this. A constant struggle to see who gets to command this territory. Some see this as their right and purpose, to command Septentrionalis. Others see this as simply the first step, a bridge from obscurity to challenging for the crown of the entire kingdom. But in the end, it’s always a warzone. Petty despots and warlords clashing against one another to prove their might and take the throne. Nothing more or less than that.”
“If it is that dangerous, then why find yourself in the heat of the action?” Riso asks. She reaches behind her hood and scratches the back of her head, likely an itch.
“I have…history with some of the warlords that have been clashing in the city as of late. One in particular decided that he needed to save the rotten king of this empire and interjected himself in my battle against him.”
That seems to catch Riso by surprise. “You were…challenging to become the emperor?”
“Yes, and not for the first time. There was a time where I was the emperor. Hells, I’ve sat upon the highest throne longer than anybody that’s reigned. But…that was a long time ago.
“What’s important is that Baxulus, that hulking bastard, decided to abandon his pride to aid a demon pretending to be a saint and prevented me from returning to my throne. So…here I am. In his domain, seeking a measure of retribution and to take over this city again.”
Crossing her legs, Riso hums as she takes a glance under her hood at Shinjitsu. She senses determination from the man, an iron will, but one which has some sense of virtue.
“I suppose you are a better option than most. I sense strength in you, as if in another life we stood across from each other and brought the best in battle. In my limited experience with Septentrionalis, I have always thought of it as the city of Parrus. Even in times where others have risen and fallen, he was the first name I heard in relation to it, one of the few who brought stability to it. But that Baxulus…”
There is a slight tremor at the thought of him. “The few experiences I have had with him have not been pleasant. He’s a dangerous man. Powerful in physical strength and his rage. But mentally scared, which finds him either haunted by another voice, or it forces him to take drastic measures. He is a tyrant, the most unstable kind and it makes me sick to my stomach.”
Shinjitsu scoffs a bit at that as he stands up to stretch. “Don’t get it twisted. For as much as Parrus wants to be remembered for being the standard bearer and one true king of this city, he’s not any better than Baxulus. Parrus has spent his days reaching for something that continues to be outside of his grasp, too scared to risk himself to be a true hero and too much of a coward to commit to being the villain. I don’t have any sympathy for one such as him, and I should know. I’ve fought him enough times to get his measure. And for every time he’s pushed himself to prove his worth and come out on top of our battles? I’ve always struck back harder, and like a whipped dog? He slinks back away from the light and returns to slither in the shadows of the gods and titans.”
As Shinjitsu loosens the muscles in his neck and takes another sip of the still-piping tea, he looks towards some training kendo sticks and walks over towards them. Riso hums, still paying attention.
“Parrus and Baxulus. Both are strong warriors, I won’t begrudge them that. But they’re…deficient. Lacking both in heart and spirit to break away from the chains they’ve willingly donned to ascend beyond themselves. Parrus is too comfortable with simply being the most accomplished fish in Septentrionalis instead of risking death to become emperor. And Baxulus? His chain is Jermius, the smiling demon who sits upon the high throne. As long as he willingly wears that leash? He’ll never be anything other than a brutish oni who’ll take out his frustrations on everybody else, when the man he should be disgusted and angry with is the same as the one he sees in a mirror.
“And in the end, nothing will change and war will rage.”
Getting up, Riso takes her cup of tea to dump the bag out. “Then I suppose it is right when people say ‘the world is cruel?”
“It’s less that the world is cruel and more so that people are. Humanity is defined by its vices. Jealousy, greed, and reckless ambition have been the catalyst that has driven men and women to do unspeakable things in pursuit of wealth, power, and glory. Oh, especially glory. And because of that, conflict arises, and the only solution is to fight.
Shinjitsu absentmindedly sets the tea cup on a nearby table and grabs one of the kendo sticks, taking a few practice swings with it. “The world is what we make of it. And what so many have chosen to make the world is one where only strength and resolve matters, where accomplishments are pursued without regard for how one gets it. I find that state to be abhorrent, but that’s the nature of things. And if nothing else, I’ve learned to enjoy the journey for what it is, to find peace in chaos and harmony in the heat of battle. As much as I despise Baxulus for protecting Jermius from his righteous execution at my hand? Fighting that bastard was something else. It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted blood in my mouth and been pushed to my limits properly. I look forward to taking everything from him and making him feel the same pain I did when the throne was stolen from me.”
Reaching on her shelf, Riso grabs one of her many trinkets and holds it in her hand. It is a daruma doll with fox ears. Its two white eyes are round, with one of them having a splotch of black ink in it. “I do wish there was a better way sometimes. Be able to survive and thrive together without as much conflict.”
Shinjitsu grabs his cup and finishes off his tea with a large gulp. Its natural healing properties, while not a fix-all to his wounds, does appear to wake him up. “That is not the truth of our world.”
Looking back, the warrior notices the doll in the hands of the mysterious young woman. Another fox. The one eye in particular catches his attention.
“Did the paint chip away on the other eye?” He asks. The hooded woman shakes her head.
“No. It is just not meant to be filled in yet. Are you familiar with Daruma?”
“They are common gifts for children.” He clarifies. “But normally they are not shaped like that.”
“I personally think it is cute shaped like this.” The woman beams with joy looking at her doll, patting its ears gently before sitting down next to her guest. “I am sure you know why you only fill in one eye at a time?”
“I do. The left eye is for a wish, or a promise you make to yourself. The right eye is for fulfillment. You’re supposed to fill that in when your wish comes true or your promise is kept and fulfilled.”
“Glad to see someone take an interest in this.” She says, excitedly. The hood-cloaked woman plays with the doll in her hands.
“I only got this recently, just before I returned from home. So I have not had time to reach the goal.” The woman, showing some confidence in herself, says emphatically. “But I know I’ll get there!”
“What is it, if I may ask?” The curiosity of Shinjitsu is poked at the doll. This young woman is intriguing to him. Something about her is different compared to most people he fights. A youthful energy and kindness not yet broken by the world.
“I suppose I am also reaching for glory of my own.” That statement gets the warrior’s attention as he turns his gaze back to Riso and shoulders the kendo stick. While Shinjitsu may have some interest in hearing what this young woman is after, she keeps it somewhat vague.
“Let’s just say I am no stranger to doubt from others or myself.” She keeps it somewhat vague. “And as much as I believe in what I can do, I know that there’s this world against me, and growing I can do. So something more tangible is needed, that I can point to and say ‘See? Riso is someone special. This journey is worth it.’”
“What would that be?” He tries to dig deeper.
“It could be many things.” She continues to be vague. “I suppose my mind is always in multiple places at once, and it is a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I see different possibilities. On the other, it is hard to give one thing my undivided attention.”
“Glory is always worth it, as long as you’re willing to put your all towards it and earn it the right way. Not with tricks, but with strength and will. Still, focus is also important. Take your eye off the prize and the objective, and you’re doomed time and again to never achieve it.”
“I do know that some consider me to have leadership qualities, but I suppose it is different from what, uh, you fought in the city.”
Crossing her legs, Riso looks at her Daruma, her head is down, still covered by her hood.
“I will admit, Shinjitsu, I have had experiences with people like the men you fought in Septentrionalis. Power hungry, manipulative, abusive. Some I thought were my friends, or tried to convince me it was for my own good. But when I was knocked down, I was always lifted up by others. People who I know I will trust.”
Looking across from her, there’s a painting across from her which appears to be a portrait. It is of her, obscured by a hood, with four other ladies. The artist captured the close-knit nature of them, standing side-by side.
“Even if I can’t afford to give the same trust to everyone, it reminds me of the good in the world.”
“It is a shame then that we’re cruel by nature.” Shinjitsu scoffs.
“I don’t think that, at least not with most people.” She disagrees. “There are some that are too far gone, not worth the forgiveness, yet others can, The world around us changes us. Heartbreak and how we react to it. Growing up we assume the best. We lose it when we get hurt and let it consume us. We learn to hate when we are scared of something we don’t know. The world is cruel by nature. People are not.”
Glancing away, it is clear that Shinjitsu finds the philosophy of Riso to be unrealistic. He lets her continue.
“If I am ever in a position where I can lead, make a difference, I want to open people up to a world of possibilities. To be considered someone strong and powerful would mean something, but I would want to leave it in a better place. Then I will go home and say ‘Look, this is what I am doing… Come see the wonders of the world!’”
She says, somewhat dreaming.
“And we may be able to share that joy. The passion. I want to be able to stand side by side with those who mean something to me and share in what we have done… To know that we have reached our own utopia, a place we can dream of”
“Hahahaha…”
Riso’s dreamlike daze is instantly shattered by the sound of laughter. Shinjitsu, still holding on to the kendo stick, chuckles derisively as he sets the cane down perpendicular to the floor, resting one hand on it.
He stopped laughing, but the incredulous look on his face remains. “Utopia? There’s wanting to make things better, but it’s a clear sign of your naivety that you think you’re going to be the one to bring a lasting peace to this world. You think you’re the first to be so deluded in bringing out a better world, a kinder and more just world? You’re just the latest. I’ve seen it time and again, and the only thing that remains when the dreams are inevitably crushed are the empty husks that end up filled with hate, regret, envy, and scorn.”
Riso hides her head and is trying to keep her calm. She knows this man has been through a literal war, but this disrespect? After she helped him.
“You wouldn’t be the first idealist that’s crossed my path, only to have your hope and your faith shattered. Wouldn’t be the first I’ve had to bury alongside the Road either. The only thing you can trust in this life is your own strength and the resilience of your own resolve. Nothing more or less. That’s why I’ve chosen the path of solitude. If all you have to worry about is living and dying by your own principles, then you can find the strength to achieve glory. Trying to educate people or help people who don’t want to listen is an exercise in frustrating utility.”
“And yet I listened to your story, and view and you taught me?” Riso stands up, she tries to keep her voice down, but her guest’s behavior is not what she’d like.
“We learn by sharing, by experiencing. That is how we grow. I was taught to respect the senpai who teaches me, the people who’s wisdom knows no bounds, but I also learned fast that one view does not rule the world. There is no ‘capital letter’ in the word truth! And it is only when one’s mind opens up that they can finally plant the seeds of a better tomorrow!”
Pacing, she keeps her distance from her guest. “And maybe it is a high goal to wish for something better, but unlike you, I don’t drown myself in the misery of the world. It isn’t naivety, it is hope, something which has not been beaten out of me. To wallow in the filth of the world leads to tyrants like Baxulus and to be content with the same people over and over again with nothing new to be offered! I am not even sure you are better than the likes of Baxulus and Parrus!”
Riso’s biting commentary has begun to wear on Shinjitsu’s last nerve. Who was this girl to try and lecture HIM?
“Just who do you think you’re talking to, girl, hmm? Some shaggy ronin who’s past his prime, an old fool that doesn’t understand anymore? I have seen and fought a thousand battles, and have survived when so many have fallen. And you think your little optimistic dream is enough to sustain you? I told you…the world isn’t cruel. It’s what people have made of it, and regardless of what you wish, people are cruel, vicious, and merciless. They don’t care if you want to make things better. None of them do. The only thing they care about is their own avarice and satiating their own desires.”
Shinjitsu walks over to the woman, her face still hidden by the hood as she stands her ground. “If you want to slay monsters, you’re going to have to become a demon yourself. Blood to answer blood. And that means crushing anything that gets between you and the prize at the end of the Road. Not a damn soul will care what you want or listen to what you have to say if you don’t have the guts to rip glory from the dying hands of your enemy. While I’m grateful you went out of your way to heal me? If saving this city and ruling it the way you want it to be ruled was important to you, you should’ve left me to die. The crown’s never big enough to fit two. And you can be damn sure that I’m not about to step aside and let someone else stop me from reclaiming what was mine.”
He leans down, trying to speak into the woman’s ear.
“If that means living and dying alone? That’s fine. Exiles don’t get to have friends, and at least I’ll have lived honestly and endured the misery without relying on false hope.”
The young woman, feeling insulted, refuses to back off. She keeps her head down, not wanting her hood to come off.
“To beat the darkness in people, you need to light the way. By falling victim to their vices, you just become a monster yourself. People tried that with me, never again. NEVER again…”
She clenches her fist, trying to hold back from engaging in combat with the beaten down Shinjitsu. No, it wouldn’t be fair. Not unless he pushes further.
“I was watching your battle from a distance. I may be young, but I can sense someone’s character from a mile away. I sensed torment and hunger from Baxulus. I sensed desperation and exploitation from Parrus. You? I sense bravery. I saw strength. I felt convinced that if there was an outcome to the battle, it was going to be for you. It was going to be the one who had something to fight for. Someone who was standing up for something he believed in. Someone to break the cycle. I suppose it was divine intervention when you were struck down by the storm…”
Turning her head from side to side, Riso can’t hide the disappointment in her voice.
“I guess I was not as good as I thought I was at judging character, but it will not be the last mistake I make. I know I am far from perfect. I have flaws, but at least I know sometimes a little altruism can go a long way. In this lonely world, being able to share something with a friend, or a stranger, can make you feel whole. You? You’re content being a depressed thick-headed demon of a man. You’re just part of the same cycle with Baxulus and Parrus, but you look in the mirror thinking it is okay for what? A brief glimpse of power and glory!? With nothing accomplished!? Selfish! わがままなロバ!!!”
As Riso turns to walk off in a huff, Shinjitsu simply scoffs as he brings the kendo stick up in a ready stance. “Selfish? Maybe. But at least I’m brave enough to not hide.”
With a quick slash, Shinjitsu swings the kendo stick. The weapon is about to connect but the woman vanishes out of thin air. On the follow through, Shinjitsu looks with a smirk as he sees.
The Kitsune. She sits on all fours, her nine tails stood up.
“Yeah. I knew it. Did you think I was foolish enough to not put it all together?”
The fox growls and lunges forward, ready to attack, but rather than leaping, several flames appear around her in a glow, they head towards Shinjitsu and it is enough to cause him to fall backwards, but the flames disappear before they would have made contact. Just a warning shot. The Riso stalks her ungrateful guest on all fours, gritting her teeth.
“And you think I’m like any other Kitsune?” She huffs. “I hide for protection from judgmental people like you… But no use in keeping the illusion now…”
Getting up off the floor, Shinjitsu appears to tweak an injury of his again, letting out a slight grunt as he stands.
“Consider yourself lucky I don’t send you out now or try and end you here. You may stay only the night so long as you are not foolish to try anything. Tomorrow, be gone. Be gone and never return!”
Turning around, the fox heads out of the room, her tails stood up. She tilts her head back.
“Good night, Shinjitsu.”
The kitsune walks out of the room, using her powers to shut the door behind her. Shinjitsu holds himself up with the kendo stick as a cool breeze from the outside rolls in. His thoughts run through the unique encounter he just had, before he goes to lie down.
It’s late. The moon is high up in the sky and there’s no clouds to obscure the light of the celestial bodies. Through the shoji, Shinjitsu can clearly see the night sky, albeit muddled and muted by the screen.
Ever since the kitsune’s outburst, the warrior’s mind has been racing, making sleep troublesome and hard to grasp. It needled him in a way he wasn’t anticipating. It’s not the first time someone has dared to question his belief or try to diminish his faith…but something sticks in his craw that he can’t quite grasp or let go.
“Whatever,” Shinjitsu says to himself as he gets up from his tatami mat, stretching. He’s not about to wait until morning to deal with his host. There’s a lot of fighting left to do and an idealistic fox spirit ignorant of the ways of the world isn’t about to stop him from re-entering the fight and reclaiming everything that has been taken from him.
Quietly, Shinjitsu looks around the room and finds his armor and his travel pack and sets to work on inspecting it all to make sure it was all in serviceable condition.
For the most part, his armor, battered and scarred, is still in good enough condition to provide some protection. In fact, it looks as if it’s been repaired since the last battle. Did Riso patch it up while Shinjitsu was recovering? Why?
What was this spirit trying to accomplish by befriending him? It’s not as if she was the first, after all. There were others. Plenty of other warriors that had sought to ally themselves with him, only to inevitably turn on him when the opportunity for personal glory became present. If Riso thought he’d let someone else in, someone who’s ideals would inevitably turn to ash and ruin in the face of the reality of the world…
Almost absentmindedly, Shinjitsu starts to rummage through his pack, mostly as a reflex rather than anything conscious. However, he stops as his hand brushes across something.
The warrior grabs it, and pulls out a lacquered wooden effigy of a locust. Shinjitsu’s frustration immediately evaporates as fond memories of his brief partnership with Inago, a bizarre mystic who nevertheless was the key to tearing down a pair of wretched bandits who were terrorizing the countryside.
Those were…good times. A partnership that led to glory, and not to disappointment and betrayal.
More memories of past encounters with other wayward souls flood as Shinjitsu’s anger is replaced by feelings of nostalgia, of better times where blood and pain weren’t the only things keeping him going. The warrior sighs as he puts the figurine back in his pack.
“...Am I really that much of a damned fool? Stupid Shinjitsu. Has your heart really gotten that calloused over the years? Hehehe…”
A morose chuckle is all the sound he allows himself, not wishing to disturb the sleeping spirit. Instead, he searches the room and finds a jug of sake and a couple of cups. Grabbing the jug and a cup, he heads to the shoji and opens it, allowing some of the cool night air to wash over him.
Removing the top of his kimono, the bandaged warrior pours sake into the cup. Before bringing it to his lips to drink, Shinjitsu mutters to himself, “To new beginnings…and fateful ends.”
Upstairs, the kitsune is also having her own night terrors. Curled up on a cushion, the nine tailed fox twitches in her sleep, muttering under her breath. She rolls around on her bed, several wisps circling around her as her magic becomes fueled by her emotional dream.
“No… Don’t hurt me…” She mutters in Japanese.
In her dream, the fox finds herself in a dark place, shadows creeping in as other foxes tower over her. Their fur is dark black with tints of purple. Purple flames shoot around at Riso, hitting her in the face and pushing her backwards. She looks young, even younger than she is, and is petrified, beaten, abused. A tear rolls down her cheek as a large kitsune slowly stalks her.
The fox has a crown on her head, a Queen amongst them. She slashes young Riso with her claws and continues to approach. Riso feels her back paw slip. She’s against the edge.
“You defy the Queen, young one?” The Queen Kitsune says to her in Japanese, growling. “The world is full of Sin and rather than indulge, accept that truth, you try to stand against it? HUH!?”
Riso leaps with shock as the violent fox yells at her. She does everything in her power not to slip, but she can’t see in the darkness.
“I am not who you want me to be!” Her eyes welled up with tears. “Why can’t you accept that? It is my truth. It’s who I am!”
“It’s too late for you…” She growls before she produces a purple blaze, sending it into Riso who flies back towards the dark pit. The Queen and her followers leave, expecting to send Riso to her death-
But the young Fox holds on to a single branch. Her paws are slipping as she struggles to pull herself up. Looking below, she can’t even see the end of the pit, it is all darkness. She shakes, scared, as she looks up-
A human hand appears, reaching out for her. A life line. With her last bit of strength, she leaps up and tries to touch the hand with her paws, but it is just an illusion. Slowly, she finds herself falling downward. Looking up to see nobody. Nobody to save her.
And the fox wakes up. She breathes heavily as she touches her face, making sure it was all just a dream. Her mind tries to process her dream, a state of raw emotion. The scars of her own past still there, and what would have happened-
If nobody was there to pick up the pieces. Her experiences shape how she views the world. What she wants the world to be.
Her Ideals.
The truths she believes in. Leaving her room, she heads downstairs where her guest is. She does not reenter the room, but her ears peak up catching any sounds.
And what she hears is…singing. Faint, quiet, a personal song in a language she doesn’t understand in the voice of the wayward warrior she’s brought to her home. While it’s difficult to get the context of the song, the cadence and melody is one of despair being confronted by hope…by sorrow being dashed by joy.
Rather than talk to Shinjitsu, she decides to wait. Walking back to her room, she tries to catch some sleep for tomorrow, she knows they need to talk.
Dawn arrives and the sun begins to peak over the horizon, creating an orange hue to the sky. After his long night, Shinjitsu, as requested by Riso, is set to leave the abode of the kitsune who saved him. Some of his bandages remain, but after rest, he appears to be in decent physical shape, with his body showing less of the aches and pains of a dangerous battle. He has his armor and is placing it on, anticipating another battle in the future. The dirt behind him has a slight crackle. He hears footsteps behind him. Riso has walked out of her home in her true form, and sits next to him.
“Shinjitsu, do you mind waiting one moment? I think we both need to talk.”
The Exiled Warrior turns around, placing a piece of armor on. He doesn’t say a word, but he looks down at the fox and listens.
“I give my apologies for yesterday. For someone who believes in understanding different perspectives, I failed to be considerate of you and your plight, and your world.” She looks off. “As we shared, rather than listen, I threw my own beliefs back at you and tried to change your world view over one conversation. You have time on this Earth. You have your truths. I am young for a kitsune. I have much to learn, such as the fact I should not force change, or to be unrealistic.”
Accepting the apology of Riso, the warrior kneels down slightly.
“And I shouldn’t have been such an ungrateful bastard. Constant struggles have hardened me, I realize that. With all the fighting I’ve done and will do, I have to be a bit hard in order to endure it. But that doesn’t excuse me from being a horse’s ass.”
“I have dealt with an ‘ass’ or two before.” She chuckles, showing a mischievous grin. “They normally live up to that name and are too hard-headed to change. You are not. It takes a lot to say that. Thank you. And I’ll admit, I did find your stories interesting. Going through my own experiences and those who prevented me from ‘hardening’ as you may put it. I may have learned a few things.”
Listening to the Kitsune, Shinjitsu continues to adjust his armor and listens. The fox stands on a nearby stone, flicking her tails.
“Utopia, as the name says, is no place. There is no such thing as perfect. Truth is apparent in everything. You need to confront the ugly truth from time to time. But it is the ground in which we form our ideals, how we create a new truth to a better world, and a better self. The two are not enemies, but two sides of the same coin. One exists in the other. And I will continue to learn from travelers like yourself so that my world may open up and I will continue to push forward.”
“Considering your youth, you appear wise for your age. Well said.”
Shinjitsu nods as he’s finishing putting on the last pauldron of his armor.
“And…thinking about what you said, I remembered something. While you can’t keep yourself blinded from the Truth, ultimately the reasons you fight are important. Some will fight for greed or vanity, Others simply because they have nothing else to live for. But those who fight and bleed for their ideals, who struggle to make the world better than the hell it’s fallen into…well, they’re the ones people sing songs about, who fight a battle worth fighting…who get remembered and immortalized when everything else becomes dust and echoes.
“So…even if we end up on opposing sides in the battles to come? Maybe…maybe the world you want to create will be made in the aftermath. Either way, your dreams are worth fighting and dying for if they’re that important to you, so I hope you’ll fight like hell for them.”
Jumping off the rock, Riso watches Shinjitsu.
“And I hope you continue to find your purpose. You do not stop learning until the day you fade away. You have a gift. Share it with the world.”
Looking out towards the horizon, Shinjitsu turns his back to Riso and waves. “I appreciate your hospitality. And I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for. You’re certainly one the better ones I’ve come across in my journey.”
As he begins to walk away, he’s stopped by Riso.
“One more thing. A small token of our encounter.”
The eyes of the Kitsune glow and her tails raise. A ball of light glows in front of Shinjitsu. The warrior puts his hands out as, appearing in his hand, a Kitsune mask with a white base. On it are red markings etched in a stunning display. Behind it is a string, allowing him to put it on if he wishes.
“We Kitsune sometimes are not afraid to play a trick on someone, especially deserved.” The fox smirks. “But many like myself act as guides. I give this mask to those who have earned my respect as a thank you, and a reminder that we all may need guidance once in a while. Enjoy it, Shinkitsu. Thank you.”
Taking the mask, Shinjitsu attaches it to the back of his head.
“No, thank you.” Turning around, he begins to walk off. “Until we meet again, young Riso.”
The Exiled Warrior makes his way off towards the rising sun as the Kitsune watches. She remains seated, ensuring he safely makes his way towards his next adventure, before returning to her home.
Little do these two know, their paths will be crossing again soon and this time, they will have no choice but to fight.
Across two separate sides of the valley, Baxulus and Parrus have begun to reorganize their groups. The city of Septentrionalis is not yet won.
Shinjitsu looks towards the city and what remains after its latest battle. Bodies still remain, unclaimed by either army.
From her home, in her second floor window, Riso sees the light of the sun touch the city once again. A sign.
Four Warriors will enter.
One will remain.
To create their truth.
And create their ideal future.
