His poor heart…
Hiding the Cursed Seal from his parents was easy with so little attention he got from them. And yet, he almost puked in fear that evening. For some odd reason, the Cursed Seal began spreading over his arm involuntarily – had he no control over it, in the end? After such a smooth and successful implementation?
He couldn’t let his parents see it. The young swordsman hurried his way out of the house under the excuse that he forgot to do an errand for his father – to repair the wooden handle of the short blade Seiryū-kiba with wood from the esteemed Senju clan. In reality, Take wanted to be as far away from them as possible in the terrifying chance that his Cursed Seal would do him in. This would mean that Shusuke could get in serious trouble… so he had to regain control over the-
…
What a silent road. It must’ve been near the edge of the Maple District, leading into the quieter regions of the Oak District. Birds chirping each other back to their nests. The amber sun embracing the horizon. The pleasant warmth on your back.
A figure kept the silent road company. Hugging the walls as if intoxicated, the figure looked nearly blind… but that was such a betraying description of its unholy appearance. One could tell that it had a humanoid appearance – arms, legs, a center body and a head. However, details were thrown out of the window – it looked like a gingerbread man. Kneaded from brain folds. Utter fleshand torn flakes of Ōtakemaru’s purple, football-patterned haori.
It was pushing down all sorts of furniture and decorations at the front of the different buildings it passed by. Still human-sized, the glob of flesh was an affront to anything holy… but deep inside, echoes of the young boy’s cries were muffled by the gigantic hands of an otherworldly being keep him hushed. The Cursed Seal had… somehow been granted a life of its own. An affront to everything around the young swordsman.
An abomination.
WC: 345
Hiding the Cursed Seal from his parents was easy with so little attention he got from them. And yet, he almost puked in fear that evening. For some odd reason, the Cursed Seal began spreading over his arm involuntarily – had he no control over it, in the end? After such a smooth and successful implementation?
He couldn’t let his parents see it. The young swordsman hurried his way out of the house under the excuse that he forgot to do an errand for his father – to repair the wooden handle of the short blade Seiryū-kiba with wood from the esteemed Senju clan. In reality, Take wanted to be as far away from them as possible in the terrifying chance that his Cursed Seal would do him in. This would mean that Shusuke could get in serious trouble… so he had to regain control over the-
…
What a silent road. It must’ve been near the edge of the Maple District, leading into the quieter regions of the Oak District. Birds chirping each other back to their nests. The amber sun embracing the horizon. The pleasant warmth on your back.
A figure kept the silent road company. Hugging the walls as if intoxicated, the figure looked nearly blind… but that was such a betraying description of its unholy appearance. One could tell that it had a humanoid appearance – arms, legs, a center body and a head. However, details were thrown out of the window – it looked like a gingerbread man. Kneaded from brain folds. Utter fleshand torn flakes of Ōtakemaru’s purple, football-patterned haori.
It was pushing down all sorts of furniture and decorations at the front of the different buildings it passed by. Still human-sized, the glob of flesh was an affront to anything holy… but deep inside, echoes of the young boy’s cries were muffled by the gigantic hands of an otherworldly being keep him hushed. The Cursed Seal had… somehow been granted a life of its own. An affront to everything around the young swordsman.
An abomination.
WC: 345
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