Chapter Text
Chapter 1
He watched them die. He watched the lights leave there eyes every time his blade met with the skin of their throat, slicing through like hot butter against a knife. He watched as blood continued to darken his armor, a splash of crimson against the black sheen, appearing as a modern day monster to terrorize all in his way. He watched as a mother threw herself in the path of his sword after ignoring her pleads for mercy to spare her children. And after she lay gone and lifeless, he turned his eyes on the children who stared at him with an emptiness that might’ve weakened the constitution of a lesser man. Something that he was not. He watched the conquest of this seaside town, devoid of what you would expect in a man that had victory dancing between his fingertips. Devoid of triumph, satisfaction, and pleasure. No…what he felt in his very core and it flickered behind his steely eyes was:
Boredom.
Erik Lionhart, Conqueror of the Four Realms, and more titles that he didn’t care for, was completely and utterly bored. This wasn’t challenging; taking this town was easier than stealing a suckling babe from its mom’s tit. The people here didn’t resist—they didn’t have time to. Erik’s men came in a swarm of ships and cannon fire, fire and steel. The attack had been unpredictable, their defenses feeble and disorganized at best from lack of preparation. It was why he hated surprise attacks—it sucked the fun out of battle. But in all fairness, his advisor nor he didn’t know there would be a town here, this area of the map had been uncharted, a new land that was ready to be taken.
They hadn’t been aware that it had been occupied already.
Armored fingers dug underneath the stained metal of his helm, ripping it off to expose the face of a surprisingly youthful male with unkempt, short black hair and burning sea-green eyes. His lips were twisted into a scowl of disapproval as he stepped over a carcass, watching as his men salvaged the town for survivors and any spoils of battle. Erik wasn’t completely devoid of strategy; he did understand the importance of taking survivors for slaves. The whole process wasn’t new to him really. Conquer the town, spare some people, establish the area as a base depending on strategic importance, and put the survivors to work (if they wanted to live), and move on after a couple of days to the next conquest.
It was the same old routine that he’s been following for a long time, longer than he would ever admit.
“My lord, you are unharmed I presume?”
Green eyes flickered briefly over a caped shoulder before the rest of his body turned as well, acknowledging the new arrival by rubbing his temple, as if warding off an encroaching headache. “If you don’t count boredom then yes…I suppose I am unharmed.”
At this the man looked visibly relieved as if he been carrying a particularly heavy doubt, approaching his young lord with a scrutiny that Erik wouldn’t normally allow from just a regular person. But Lysial wasn’t any regular person; he was his advisor, confidant, brother at times, and maybe his conscious that he often wondered even existed. The guy was easy on the eyes according to most; brown hair kept always in a ponytail; grey orbs framed behind thin spectacles; and a serious, angular face that often wore expressions of consternation. Great man…just not around alcohol.
“There will be plenty of time to entertain yourself later, my lord,” countered the man dryly, shaking his head. Erik couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable he appeared, going by the pensiveness from his gaze. This sparked the barest of interest in him. “I’ve come to report the conquest of this town has been complete. The civilians have ceased all retaliatory actions and await further instruction in the center of the town.”
“Mmm…that’s good. Anything else?” His tone indicated his disinterest, suddenly finding the gleam of the sun bouncing of his sword more interesting. It would need to be cleaned.
Brown eyebrows twitched. “Nothing of import I’m afraid. However,” sea-green eyes looked up, expectant, “did you notice the architecture of the buildings, my lord?”
What?
“Sorry, no. I was too busy making sure this woman didn’t try to kill me with her broom,” was his reply, unable to keep the sarcasm from his tone.
Lysial continued, unaffected. “It’s quite different from our homeland. In contrast to our more masonry, rectangular way of design, the buildings here are more angular, the roofs are tiled…and I think the doors slide open? It is very peculiar. And it’s not just the housing but the clothing as well. Did you see…”
And Erik let him continue on his litany of observations unperturbed, giving the occasional grunt of acknowledgement as he began walking in the direction of what he believed to be the town center, Lysial diligently following behind. Once again, he would like to point out all this stuff his advisor was noting had little interest to him; he came to fight, to conquer, to make this new land and all who may occupy it bend the knee. He didn’t care about whatever differences this place had to his homeland because at the end of the day, they would be sharing a similar ruler. And why stop here? When he was done with this land there was sure to be more wasn’t it? Granted, he didn’t know how big this land was—it was uncharted territory after all but that shouldn’t be a hindrance.
Which was why Lysial had cautioned him to just attacking the natives and not investigating first when they had been allowed to dock. But that wasn’t fun…it wasn’t challenging. If anything, seeing the horror in the man’s eyes as he approached their ship (the others soon to be arriving) and realizing they were hostiles had probably been the most entertaining aspect of the whole thing. Everything after that had proceeded predictably, with him victorious at the end.
Same old thing.
Contemplating how he should relieve himself of this stubborn cloud of boredom, Erik barely raised a brow at the group of people gathered forcibly in the center of town. If he had to take a rough estimate, he would say about a good 100 people were left as a result of the attack. Trained on them so they wouldn’t make any hasty moves were about 12 crossbows, strung tight and ready to fire. A body lay somewhat distant from the group, embedded with at least 5 bolts, a good warning if Erik ever saw one.
Upon his arrival, his crossbowmen acknowledged his presence with a quick bow, waving his hand in a signal to lower their weapons. It wouldn’t be necessary. Any type of unruly behavior would be dealt with in the same manner as that unfortunate fellow laying lifeless on the ground met. And going from the people gathered here terrified and confused expressions, they understood quite well.
“Who is your leader…if he’s still alive? Come forth now or be punished,” demanded the young conqueror in a tone that bequeathed no argument, watching with baleful eyes as they muttered amongst themselves, confused. “No one is willing to represent their people? Do you all,” his hand waved again and the ends of the crossbows were returned their target, “wish to die over such a simple request? Come now, I don’t have all day.”
“Not to interrupt his majesty when he is making a request, but I believe these people speak an entirely different language.” Sea-green eyes flickered to meet calm grey ones, feeling the corner of his lip twitch in the faintest hints of amusement. How unfortunate. The only possible solution in his mind was to use violence.
The king clucked his tongue and grabbed the nearest person he could find—a young girl that looked to be approaching her fourteenth year or so—by her shirt and dragged her away from the others. The response was immediate; a man leaped up in response but a sobbing woman prevented him from coming any closer. If looks could kill, Erik would be dead a million times over.
The faintest hint of intrigue flickered to life in his bored soul.
“If the leader of this miserable little town doesn’t show up, I’ll kill the girl right here. Look,” he beseeched them all with a false expression of sheepishness, like he was against this whole charade, “I’m not a bad guy. I’m a reasonable person as long as my demands are met. And are they being met? No, they are not. So unfortunately…” Trailing off with a fake, forlorn sigh, Erik unsheathed his sword from his back in a quick movement, sword point mere inches from the crying girl’s face. She was sobbing in her native tongue, probably begging for her life without even requiring a translation. Yet the sight didn’t faze his steel-encased heart, nor the moans from the woman and the man in the crowd.
Guess no one cared about the girl. Guess he would need a better example.
Preparing his arm to swing in a way that would cleanly slit the girl’s throat, Erik paused when he heard a desperate shout from behind him, pausing then turning to see who dared stop him.
It was a middle-aged man who had a bit of a gut and some wrinkles on his face that seemed if they just sprung there only moments ago. Gray peppered chestnut-brown hair in an uneven pattern and his eyes were wide and moist. In his arms was a burgundy chest, protecting it like a prized possession.
Erik merely blinked.
The man spoke in that strange language of theirs, desperation tinging every word, making frantic gestures at the girl then to the box. Was he supposed to assume that meant he would trade the girl for whatever was in the box?
Humoring the man, the king lowered his weapon and went to investigate the chest himself, glancing at the elder who seemed close to soiling his undergarments at any moment. Vaguely amused, he gently opened the box and made a noise at seeing its contents. How surprising… Rubies, gold, diamonds and the lot, something he thought wouldn’t be so amassed in such a concentrated little node like this. It was fairly impressive for a little seaside town like this. Had Erik been a ruler easily swayed by materialism and wealth, the offering might’ve persuaded him to quench his bloodlust. Yet he wasn’t; he didn’t care about such things.
“I can assume you’re the authority figure of this town correct?”
Something about his tone must have unsettled the guy; his throat quivered and his words came out stuttered and incomprehensible as usual. He took a step back, placing the treasure coffer at Erik’s feet, urging him to take the offering. Something animalistic inside him opened its jaws hungrily at the submissive display, already marking its prey, wanting to kill and rip and tear. The bloodlust he relished in was settling over his rational like a thick, red fog, hand tightening over the handle of his sword which he could swear was crying for blood as well. It was time to hunt, to kill.
Sensing his intentions or feeling that aura of bloodlust about him, the guy only managed to turn around before a sword erupted from the middle of his chest, blood decorating the finery in the coffer in a crimson glaze. Screams came from the assembly behind him, the twang of an arrow flying loose as someone tried acting out in response to the brutality. But those maddened eyes was staring hungrily at the limp figure on his blade, ripping out the embedded weapon with the sound of flesh and tissue to accompany it. He loved it; loved killing and blood. He was a monster in human skin and he knew it; acknowledged it; welcomed it. The Savage Lion of Agreliv, he was called, and for good reason. A feral grin twisted attractive features into the visage of a predator as his tongue met the stained steel of his blade, tasting that coppery liquid, enjoying it.
“Your majesty.”
Someone addressed him, the fog in his brain making it difficult to discern who it was for a moment. Seeing the passive face of his advisor returned him to his senses, sheathing his blade and giving the once dead man and the shaking girl a dismissive glance, turning his sights onto his audience. The eyes that stared back at him belonged to those that felt as if they were in the presence of a demon, hearing the mental slew of names they were calling him.
Savage.
Monster.
Demon.
Murderer.
Erik was all these things and more.
He smiled demonically, chuckling at something only he was privy to before declaring in a husky, loud voice, “I am Erik Lionhart, Conqueror of the Four Realms, Savage Lion of Agreliv, and the Undying One! I am your master now, your ruler, your god, your everything! To disobey me is treason, to challenge me is death! Your lives belong to me! Relinquish onto me your freedom and reverence and I will provide protection and succor! My word is my truth and my vow is unbreakable! Now…submit!”
A resounding mantra of “Lionhart” came from his men that had been steadily gathering from the nooks and crannies of this pillaged town, stamping their boots on the ground in rhythm, till more and more picked up the cry. Their voices continued to rise until it reached a crescendo, resounding off with his name once more before they became silent, getting on one knee in an easy, practiced motion.
The king looked expectantly at the gathered mass of natives.
The effect was unanimous; everyone got on both knees and bowed so low that their faces were mere inches away from the ground.
Teeth bared in a predatory smile, Erik laughed darkly into the air, looking forward to his next conquest.
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“How do you expect us to mobilize all of the daimyos from each province in a few days’ time? It’s simply not possible to do it in the timeframe purposed!”
“But we can’t simply let Lord Gujo be at the mercy of these…savages! He has already lost two villages in the span of five days. And from the scouts report, Aomura is next. We cannot lose Aomura; it is the economic foundation of commerce for the province of Tousaki. Without it, there whole economy would be in disarray and this would create a rippling effect that is sure to affect everyone.”
“Yes I understand the importance of Aomura. Suffice it is to say does Lord Gujo also share this understanding? After all, it is—or rather was under his jurisdiction. Had he been more competent in the defense of his lands, we might actually have enough time to prepare a sufficient amount of forces.”
“Lord Hagiwara…surely you jest? It simply wasn’t possible to defend against roughly 6000 soldiers. Not to mention, that demon’s army seems to be growing by the day.”
“Incompetence!”
Reisu couldn’t help but furrow his brows in slight bewilderment at the proceedings, wondering why these men were squabbling and insulting each other when time was so very precious. The solution to the problem at hand seemed simple: that was to defend their lands against this invader. It wasn’t feasible to let one person be at the mercy of a danger that had disastrous potential to affect everybody while everyone selfishly tried to hide away. Apart, they were weak, together they would be strong. It was common sense, yet the Roju—or Council of Elders—saw it fit to make the problem more difficult than it should be.
Reisu restrained himself from sweeping a hand through his golden hair, throwing a helpless glance to his uncle.
Who just so happened to be the Shogun—their commander-in-chief.
The man didn’t share his golden hair. Instead it was an ink-black color that was done into a dignified knot befitting of his status. His face was stern but that was because of the near-comical scene he was forced to lord over, dark-brown eyes swimming with his own opinions. Instead of giving voice (well, at least not yet), he merely sipped at his tea, savoring the taste as he let out a weary sigh. Ah, seemed like it was about time to intervene now.
“Enough. Indecision is normal but quibbling amongst each other accomplishes nothing. Are we not leaders amongst the people? Then such behaviors are beneath us.”
The gathered men all looked indignant before each settled down with their own comments heavy on their tongue, daring not to challenge their lordship. Satisfied with this, the shogun placed his cup down and prepared himself to finally share his viewpoint. “I think it’s fair if we allow Lord Gujo to give us a detailed summary of what has been occurring in his province—without interruption,” added the man curtly upon seeing Hagiwara appearing as if he wanted to say something.
Gujo looked ever so grateful, if not relieved. “His magnificence is too kind. Thank you.”
“You may continue.”
“Ah yes, if I may…” It was like an unimaginable weight just dropped on his shoulders as he seemed to struggle for a hot second on how to start—or rather where to start. “The man is called ‘Lionhart’ and he is perhaps a true demon incarnated into human flesh. The army that he commands is ruthlessly skilled and have weapons that are somewhat different then our own. My informants have told me that he arrived on a ship with a legion of them soon to follow, bringing with them more men and resources.
As Lord Kitagawa has mentioned, this demon has managed to conquer two of our villages. The people are enslaved and made to provide and sustain his army with whatever it needs. This has dampened a considerable amount of our own supplies in other towns, namely in our supply of fish sense he has Tsukochi under his control. Any attempts or efforts are met with savage retaliation from his defenses. Had we enough warriors to overpower him, perhaps the situation could be reversed.”
“And what of his battle prowess or a description of his army? Anything that would be crucial to know besides him having more forces?” Inquired the shogun, voicing the same question that had been drifting in the back of Reisu mind.
At this Gujo paused and ruminated on the information in his head, settling on something that caused his whole expression to change to horrified bewilderment. “Ah…I have been informed that he…rides a lion into battle.”
“What,” sputtered one of the elders who simply couldn’t hold in his reaction, which was probably shared by everyone in this room.
Gujo knew it sounded preposterous—hell it sounded that way saying it—but he knew he had to continue on, swallowing back his own disbelief. “He and a couple of others have been sighted riding armored lions into battle alongside your standard horses. The sight alone has been said to rob the will out of most.”
“Lions, lord Gujo? You expect to us to contend with lions? What madness is this?” Spat Hagiwara, sounding as if the whole conversation had just gotten ridiculous.
Trying not to be disrespectful, Gujo just cleared his throat, continuing on with his speech, “It is the truth. I suppose the only good thing is that not his entire army have lion steeds, just the handful that were seen. As powerful as they are, lions are not invulnerable to spear and arrow.”
“Yes, proceed,” the shogun uttered thoughtfully, having gotten over that shocking admission.
“Any attempts at peace have been made and offered, but that has been proven futile for a couple of reasons. The savages do not speak our language and they have repeatedly shown to not have any interest in establishing peace with us. Trying has resulted in some gruesome consequences.” The daimyo paled slightly at this before tucking his hands into the sleeves of his haori, having reached a grim conclusion. “We are only left with the option to either fight or surrender. That is all…”
All was solemnly quite in the command room, each man digesting this new information at their own pace and having mixed reactions. If Reisu hadn’t been taught how to mask his emotions, one would be able to see all the thoughts running through his mind. Thoughts of horror and concern…and an inkling of fascination. This Lionhart…rode a lion? An actual lion? The beasts weren’t native to this land, dwelling in the regions across the sea to the west. He had only seen one once (as a small child) when a trader had come to present goods to his uncle. Lead in by a silver chain had been a golden beast that was as magnificent as the Shogun. It was similar to a tiger if you counted the lack of stripes and the rippling muscle. And those teeth…
Feeling a very real ripple of fear go up his spine, the blond composed himself and listened distantly to the men conversing amongst himself, glancing at his uncle who seemed to mull something over before announcing his decision. “I will send a battalion of soldiers to assist Lord Gujo as well as General Hiyato to assess the situation further. During this, I will also notify all the daimyo’s of every province in Oshihan to rally them for war. All I ask is that you do your best to hold off this invader Lord Gujo.”
“I will do all I can, your lordship.” He bowed lowly and deeply, gratitude coming off him in waves.
And with this, everyone in the hall was to be dismissed as a conclusion was met, shuffling out the room in muted conversation. Lingering behind was the young blond, nearly about to combust from the request on his tongue despite how calm he appeared. Without having to look at him, the Shogun could already tell what the gist of the request would be, languidly taking a sip of his drink that had long lost its warmth.
“Well…?”
“I want to go to.”
“Elaborate.”
Reisu didn’t really need to; his uncle was an intelligent man and knew what he was getting at, but it wasn’t in his nature to make things easier for people who demanded something from him. So if he wanted to communicate his desire more effectively, then he would have to spell it out.
“I want to go with General Hiyato to face this new threat,” requested the blonde confidently, standing proudly, oozing determination.
“General Hiyato is ‘assessing’ the threat, not facing it,” the shogun corrected lightly.
The blonde frowned but he wouldn’t be deterred so easily. “Then I wish to accompany him to ‘assess the threat’.”
“You’re a prince, and princes should stay where it’s safe so they may further serve their people when the time comes.”
“But I will be serving my people when they need it the most…which is now,” he argued back, knowing—no feeling he was right. “Perhaps you don’t believe in my capabilities.”
At that assumption, the man stopped sipping his drink to direct a warning gaze at the stubborn prince, appearing to be on the cusp of saying something uncordial but refraining from doing so due to caring about his nephew’s feelings or maybe some other reason that wasn’t sentimental. “Perhaps I simply believe in your potential more. Reisu,” liquid-amber orbs gazed up with the first sign of dejection staining their surfaces, “I have seen your skill in the martial arts and do acknowledge that they are worthy of turning the tides of battle. But you are a prince and your job is to succeed your father in being a symbol of hope for the people. What do you think would happen if the heir to the throne was killed by these savages? Their morale would go down. So don’t think for an instant that I don’t believe in your skills… I simply know your safety has higher priority. Understood?”
“Yes, honorable uncle.”
There was simply no arguing against that; his heart stung with rejection and displeasure, a bitter outcome compared to the one he envisioned. He knew his safety was important, but he also knew he wasn’t a defenseless child that couldn’t protect himself. But any further argument would be moot in the face of his uncle’s stoicism. So with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to change his uncle’s mind no matter what he said, Reisu bowed respectfully and departed the room, seeking out the attention of someone he knew would listen to him—well complain that is. He already knew where this person would be, heading towards a tall building that was one of the imperial soldiers garrisons.
Bracing himself mentally as he stood in front of the building, Reisu slid open the doors and wasn’t surprised at the sight that greeted him.
“…I didn’t really get her name but I’m sure she won’t forget mine anytime soon. She must have screamed it so much that even the Gods were telling her to shut up at some point.”
Uproarious laughter and the banging of tables accompanied the comment, drawing the blonde’s gaze to the man posturing on a table while his comrades relaxed on their knees, listening to him preach nonsense. Here was General Kai Haiyato, the shogun’s son, and his cousin. The guy was a known womanizer and alcoholic most of the time but this was off-set by his skills with a katana and his surprising charisma. Instead of sharing onyx-black hair with his father, Kai’s hair was a wheat-colored yellow that was curled busily about his head like a messy crown. Mirthful brown ears peered from a grinning face that was flushed slightly from many drinks, dressed in finery that was partially hidden beneath his grey armor. He was already going into another story, but this time, Reisu purposefully made his way around the room by being quiet and unobtrusive, nodding politely at one of the girls serving beverages to the soldiers once he found a seat at the same table where Kai was talking.
He cleared his throat.
“Wha—oh.” Storm-grey eyes narrowed in confusion at the noise at first, searching for the source before rapidly changing his expression once he saw he who it was. “Ah, sorry boys! Going to have to finish that story another time.”
Ignoring his men’s disappointed groans, Kai was quick to shift into a sitting position, cross-legged, giving his cousin his full attention…as much as he could while under the influence. “How may I help you today your highness? Need women advice?”
“No,” Reisu grunted, wondering if seeking his cousin’s ear while he was drunk was a good idea. The unfortunate thing was…he was always drunk.
“Oh right…you’re not much of a ladies man. You prefer—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence! And lower your voice,” hissed the prince in pained embarrassment, a dangerous crimson color tinging his pale skin from the curious glances directed there way. “Your tact is non-existent as always when you’re drowning yourself in liquor. I wonder how you function throughout the day.”
The man smiled wanly, as if his cousin said something he found ironic. “You say the sweetest things, my prince.” He waved for a girl to refill his cup before taking a slow sip of his drink, half-lidded eyes peering over the rim at his somewhat aggravated company. “So, what troubles you so? You look as if someone kicked your puppy…and that person is probably the ruler of Oshihan if I was to take an educated guess.”
“Mmm…,” disappointment returned in full force in soft hazels, biting his lip as he looked down at the table, lost in his thoughts. “Your father wants you to assist in the defense of Lord Gujo’s lands as he rallies the other daimyo to confront the foreign invaders.”
“Sounds like a party; when do I head out?”
“He didn’t disclose that to me. But if I was to guess, tomorrow seeing as how this is an important matter.”
Kai placed his half-drained cup down, seemingly unaffected by the fact he would be marching into a dangerous situation. If anything, muted excitement was burning in the depths of those chocolate orbs. “Well, I’ll try not to act surprised when he approaches me. You still didn’t tell me why your puppy was kicked though.”
“Enough with the puppy metaphor.” It was making him wince every time he imagined a poor puppy getting kicked repeatedly. “The honorable Shogun deemed it unnecessary for me to come with you despite acknowledging my skills. According to him, the best support I can provide for the people is by staying here. But how does that—”
“I agree.”
“—help anyone…what?”
“You’re a prince, son of the Emperor who is a connection to the gods themselves. If something happens to you, who will serve as that connection then?”
“That was a surprisingly lucid deduction from you,” muttered the prince in annoyance, shooting his cousin a withering glance as he shrugged. “I would prefer to better serve the people more directly. I am a capable fighter—you know this.”
Another sip. “Certainly.”
“So I know I can make a difference! Even if I don’t fight…even if I just come to observe, even that would help too. I would be able to devise a strategy and I would like to think I’m good at that as well. I just…want to help.”
Kai became quite at the soft admission, looking upon his cousin in silent sympathy. He knew his cousin was often stuck in the capital, locked behind the palace walls away from the world a majority of the time, yearning to do something. He wasn’t allowed to leave unless to attend ceremonies and parades that the royal family appeared in, then was herded back home like cattle. Compared to him, Kai had always been allowed to do as he pleased as long as he didn’t bring dishonor on his family name…which he still struggles to avoid due to his…frequent visits to the Red Light Districts. Often, Reisu did lament on how he was jealous of Kai’s freedom and responsibilities.
If only he knew the truth of it.
Still, he did care for his cousin quite dearly—like the brother he never had if you excluded the illegitimate ones. So it was in his nature to help if he could. Although, offering this type of help did make his liquored brain fuzz up in warning, like maybe he should consider it more…
Oh, whatever.
“Perhaps you can by being there…but not being there.”
The younger male’s face was priceless, as if he just saw a three-headed cow. “Being ambiguous—really? From you Kai? It doesn’t really suit your taste.”
“Course not, but it’s the truth.”
“How?”
Forcing the gears in his brain to turn so he could he actually educate his mystified cousin on his ideas, Kai rubbed his chin thoughtfully, forgetting the drink for once. “We could dye your hair black and give you a mask to disguise your identity.”
“Seriously? I actually believed you had a good idea for a second.” Reisu pressed his face into his palm in disbelief, wondering why he even bothered to hope for a moment.
Kai actually looked as serious as he possibly could force himself to be, placing his hands on Reisu’s shoulders to regain his attention, strangely intense for some reason. “I could say you are my retainer or vassal—whichever you prefer. That way, no one will pay you any mind, granted you don’t speak too much or take your mask off.”
The blond didn’t really know how to feel about this idea, worrying the back of his hand with his thumb. It might be possible. “I don’t know if this will work…”
“Look, do you want to go or not?”
Yes, he really wanted to go.
“Yes…”
“Good. Now here’s what we are going to do…”
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Reisu knew he should’ve been more appreciative that he was in fact where he wanted to be, but he couldn’t help but complain a little.
They had arrived after five hard days of riding then traveled to Hakone Checkpoint after receiving Intel that the demon’s armies might be making its way through the steep, forested mountains that was between Aomura and the town the invaders occupied. Admittedly, the area was enclosed around a valley so it was quite beautiful to look at. After a while, the sight had begun to lose its allure after three days of staring at the same thing. There wasn’t anything to do besides patrol town, and that also started becoming dull after the 20th go around, having memorized where every pebble was on the path.
Not to mention, he had gotten used to (somewhat) not being addressed as if everywhere he walked was holy ground. The samurai, as well as the civilians, often regarded him suspiciously and probably would’ve approached him if he wasn’t at Kai’s side a majority of the time. The general had taken to making up all types of fascinating stories as to who he was and what his purpose was. He particularly enjoyed the one about being a secret, ninja assassin.
It was getting fairly ridiculous.
The lies and keeping up the disguise that is. Wearing the mask throughout the day often made his face start getting sweaty even if it only covered the upper part of his face; the dye in his hair didn’t mingle well with water so he had to be mindful of that; and he gotten so used to being addressed as “Fox” that he almost forgot his true name for a second. Not to mention, Reisu was growing increasingly worried about his absence in the capital as he spent a full week now from home. He was naïve to think this venture would take a day—he knew that now. So he was anxious for some type of evidence that his disappearance was known and someone would come take him home any second. Besides this, there were plenty of other things he could really complain about but he decided to push the negative thoughts from his mind, returning back to the present.
Currently, Kai was talking with the taisho—the captain that was stationed there. It was small talk at best if you discounted the man trying to brownnose his way into the General’s good graces, who was having none of that mind you. It would’ve made him laugh if he hadn’t been used to it already, restlessly shifting from foot to foot, trying not to get distracted by cumbersome thoughts again.
“Perhaps the savages have decided to abandon their destructive mission. A whole week of inactivity compared to their first three days of straight hostilities makes for an irregular pattern. Don’t you agree, my lord?” Suggested Aoki, resting his arm on his katana, eyes trained on the general.
Unimpressed grey orbs blinked. “No, not really.”
Taken aback by his bluntness, the man opened his mouth to reply before the doors to the room were forcibly slid open, a younger samurai stumbling in, almost out of breath. Aoki looked embarrassed by the rudeness of the gesture and quickly opened his mouth to address it, “What is the meaning of this—”
“They are coming through the mountains, my lord! T-The savages.”
Kai’s whole demeanor changed at this information, leaving the room in a burst of speed, calling out orders through Aoki’s manor. Reisu, feeling his heart about to beat out of his chest from fearful excitement, was right behind him, silent and observing, feeling like his patience was finally being rewarded. People were mobilizing so fast, he didn’t even realize when a stable boy approached them with horses before hurrying away to assist others.
“Reisu—”
“Yes I know. Stay at your side,” the blond finished quietly, snapping his reigns to encourage his mount into a fast gait.
The general nodded, satisfied as they rode through the town, gathering both his forces and the warriors that had already been stationed there, all mounted and armed to the teeth, ready to respond to the tension that had been thrumming through the atmosphere for days. The civilians could only look quietly from inside their homes, watching with worried expressions, some seeing loved ones that they prayed would make it back safely.
“With me, my warriors!”
A passionate shout answered him, feeling the men’s courage and eagerness bolster his spirits too, and feeling like he could do anything—face any foe. And as to remind him, the weight of his Bo staff seemed all the more lighter on his back, anxious to finally use it on a foe that wasn’t in a training environment. No, this was a real battle. No one would pull their punches here when any move could be fatal.
Swallowing back his anxiety and trying not to be overtaken by the sound of his heart beating wildly in his chest, Reisu urged his mount faster and faster as they traveled along the Tokaido highway, assuming that his cousin knew where he was going to intercept the opposing army. Just from a quick survey around him, it was safe to assume that they wouldn’t be coming from the sides (too many hills) otherwise they wouldn’t have been sighted. Then where—
“Halt!”
At his command and sudden stop, the small army of about 6000 samurai and elite soldiers came to a screeching stop, horse’s whinnying in displeasure. Confused, Reisu from Kai’s right side, was about to question him but the unwavering gaze ahead of him was too tempting to not look as well.
The prince felt his heart stop for a hot moment.
Standing across the river that acted as a line with just as many warriors as their own—if not more—was the Demon in all his menacing glory, garbed from head to toe in sheer black armor, atop a steed that was more dangerous than any horse. It was a lion—it had to be; protected lightly in silver plating’s along its considerable length. It was the only one he saw, much to his relief, already feeling a terrible unease travel down his spine. They had already been here—as if they had been anticipating there arrival the whole time. Who does that? Just sit and wait for their enemy? It was unnerving and it showed Reisu how arrogant and cocky the man must have been. If only he could see his face… He would look upon the visage of the man who they called Demon if it hadn’t been covered by the helm. Surely the man must fit the ugliness and savagery that often came when thinking of a demon?
Nevertheless, the prince merely sucked in a breath, unwilling to let the tension get to him.
Movement from the opposing armies inner ranks drew their attention as a young samurai, blood dripping down his scared face, was shoved in front.
“That’s my son!” Lord Aoki seethed, pupils blown wide, looking ready to charge.
Kai merely held out his arm, barring his way, observing with the acuity of a hawk as the young man across the river began running towards them after meeting no resistance not to. The river wasn’t really deep—knee length really, so it provided little resistance as the Lord’s son desperately tried to make it across, feet actually reaching the opposite side—
Only to not take but two steps before he was dead.
Reisu felt the bile rise in his throat as nausea churned hotly in his stomach as the samurai stared gaping at them dazedly, an arrow protruding from his skull. Mere seconds and he had crumpled to his knees, a lifeless husk on the ground as the Demon lowered his crossbow, unbothered by what just transpired.
The effect was instantaneous.
Lord Aoki was charging in a passionate fury, their army following behind, bellowing in rage. Reisu was swept up in the tide of movement, still not yet having gotten over the sight he just saw. Why…why do such a thing? Let a man go, fill him with hope, and only to rip it all away so cruelly? It was incomprehensible, feeling like his bones themselves were weak from emotion at such vileness. Where was Kai? People were already clashing, the sound of steel and the agonized screams of the fallen were the only thing his brain could concentrate on. He had to find him, pulling on the reigns of his steed only for to beast to collapse onto his side with him crushed between the earth and dead meat.
Pain raced up and down his body, gasping as he struggled to push against the dead horse on top of him, freezing as a man suddenly appeared above him, sneering at his trapped prey. Blood caked his body like a second skin, taking the countenance of a crazed beast, sword reared over his head to split his skull in two. Goddess he was going to die in a guise that no one could care less about, just another body to add to the increasing graveyard of corpses.
Yet the sword never came down, the arm holding it lying detached on the ground as the man fell back screaming, clasping his bloody stump. Reisu blinked dumbly at his unlikely savior—Lord Aoki who only glanced at him unseeingly, madness burning in the depths of his eyes. The guilt and nausea returned tenfold, finding the strength to crawl out from underneath his horse, flinching as a body fell before him heavily, sightless eyes staring macabrely at him. He didn’t bother to discern if they had been friendly or not, stumbling to his feet, knowing that he needed to find his cousin. This…this hadn’t been what he imagined. He imagined glory and displays of skill…not this slaughter-fest. Whatever you knew of swordsmanship was gone here as you tried to survive, nothing but reflexes and instincts to guide you.
He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to see all these people dying like this.
Shakily he grabbed his metal staff from his back—just in time too for someone noticed him after downing his opponent, charging, attending to kill. The blond barely dodged, feeling metal slice into his arm, painful but luckily superficial. He was quick to retaliate, not allowing himself to think as he swung his weapon, grimacing at the dull ringing noise it made connecting with the man’s helmet. His opponent crumpled in a heap, groaning faintly.
Reisu couldn’t bring himself to finishing the man off, taking off to find his cousin and praying he wasn’t one of the bodies lying on the ground, fending off those that stood in his away…but never killing. He couldn’t. He just…it just wasn’t in his nature.
Perhaps the Gods had been listening for he did find his cousin, surrounded by three of the opposing army while four lay dead at his feet, face down and turning the water a murky crimson color. A couple of arrows littered his back and shoulder but thankfully they hadn’t punctured the armor going by how his movements haven’t slowed. He swung his blade skillfully at those that charged him, sliding out of the way and delivering fatal blows where he could. The sight gave him hope…
Only for it to be stolen as he caught sight of the man who started all of this standing not so far away, observing slightly, his beast mauling those that dared approach him not to far away. An indescribable emotion filled the blonde’s heart at the sight of him, hand tightening around his weapon. Perhaps…perhaps if he could stop him, all of this would end. But he had to reach Kai first.
A battle cry alerted him to an attacker behind him, catching the soldier’s sword on the midsection of his staff to use his enemy’s momentum against them to create an opening. The end of his staff met the man’s stomach, knocking him on his back where he knocked him out with a quick blow to the head. He didn’t have a moment to breathe—another man reappeared to take his place, just as aggressive as the last. He didn’t have time for this.
Metal bit into his side where his armor didn’t cover from his attacker momentarily outsmarting him, only preventing it from further digging into his side by striking the hand that held the sword, disarming him. His opponent grunted before unsheathing a knife much to Reisu’s surprise, reflexes fumbling to react in time. Again he was saved by the timely intervention of a spear plunging violently threw the man’s stomach, blood spurting onto the prince’s shocked face. He didn’t get a chance to see his savior for he was already turning to look for his cousin a second time, running towards him as he cut down his last assailant.
“Kai!”
Battle-hardened, grey eyes beseeched his own, softening at the sight of him as he reached his hand out towards him—
Twang
Reisu fell to his knees in object horror as Kai was shot in his right eye, arrow sticking from the socket as he fell backwards, howling in agony. Frantically he looked for the attacker and felt hatred twist inside of him as the Demon lowered his crossbow, approaching his fallen target. No…please no…, the prince mouthed, voice stuck in his throat, feeling as if all body functions had been paralyzed save for the tears that had sprung from the corner of his eyes. He could only watch weakly as the monster unsheathed a sword from his back, pointing it at Kai’s heart, saying something that Reisu couldn’t make out nor understand. Yet Kai, in all his pain and agony that he was in, merely grabbed the demon’s sword by the blade, mouthing something, lips twisted into pain, maddened grin.
And somehow, Reisu was moving.
He felt detached from his body as he grabbed the reigns of a horse that been spooked as its rider was killed, mounting it before it could run away. Staff at the ready, he spurned the beast into a mad dash, watching as the demon reared his arm back in what seemed like slow-motion, ready to thrust his blade into his cousin’s heart. As it crept closer and closer, the prince’s mind a screaming mantra of “no no no no”, he felt the lock on his vocal cords release, yelling furiously:
“No!”
That shrouded visage snapped towards him in a visible display of surprise just the moment Reisu’s staff connected brutally against the side of his head, sending his helm flying through the air.
But the prince didn’t register the sight of his enemy falling dully to his side, unmoving. He didn’t register briefly cradling his cousin’s bloody face in his gloved hands who didn’t even give a sign that he was alive. He didn’t register the struggle of getting the man onto the back of his horse in a frantic hurry as his strength continued to pour out from his side from the wound that he sustained earlier. Nor the urgent command to retreat that was immediately obeyed once he discarded his mask.
All his mind could think off, begging anyone that would listen—
Please…don’t die. Please…