“Again,” said Ryuzaki Ryohei, the hard bamboo staff in his hands twirling back effortlessly into a ready stance.
“Stop reacting, and just move. You spend too long thinking and look where that gets you? Fight with your fists, Kazu, not your thoughts.”
A young boy, with hair black as charcoal and red eyes that burned like smoldering ashes, wore a frown of quiet discontentment as he nursed the lines of welts and bruises beginning to form up and down his forearms and legs. In some places the discoloration had become a deep shade of purple, with spots of blue and yellow fading around it, like some sort of sickly twilight painting. Bloody gashes, split down the same lines as his bruises, could be seen trailing faint streaks down his limbs before mixing and blending with the thick coat of sweat which clung to every inch of the boy’s desert-tanned leathery skin. Thin cloth dyed beige, the militant color of sand, hung loosely from his limbs in an effort to keep the sun off his skin without hampering his ability to move — it certainly wasn’t meant for blocking any hits. Despite the accumulated damage, and the mirthless look of rage burned into the boy’s face, he said nothing as he breathed, deepening his inhales and exhales, and re-took his ready position.
“Again,” agreed Ryuzaki Kazukura, his angry look twisting into a snarl of defiance, hands tightening around the hard bamboo staff. The polished wooden floorboards of the Ryuzaki Clan Estate Dojo were slick with the sweat of Kazu's exertion, yet even still he found within him strength to stand his ground. Ryohei’s grin curled wickedly.
Dancing vipers, teacher and student began to dance their staves; no mercy could be found, on either side. As Kazu brought his staff down to strike at an exposed calf, Ryohei twirled the opposite way and side-stepped the attack; bringing his own staff around to counter, Ryohei very nearly scored a mark flat against Kazu’s back — if, of course, Kazu had not parried and twisted in an attempt to wrest control of his opponent’s weapon. Back and forth like this, strike and counter-strike, parry and defend, until one or the other made a mistake. Mostly on Kazu’s side, earning him a new bump or bruise, though it was not uncommon to see Ryohei’s usually calm and collected face scrunch in an effort to maintain his control of the fight. The child moved with practiced precision, yet he used moves and patterns that Ryohei had not taught him. Improvised? Read of, in a book? Picked up, more than likely, at some side-alley street brawl.
The boy, Ryohei thought to himself,
has much potential.
An opening in the boy’s stance practically pulled his staff in.
Much potential, and much to learn. Driving the end of his staff in, he meant to make a lesson out of this mishap; snaking past Kazu’s quick and precise, yet inevitably rote and predictable, movements to firmly dig his staff’s heel into the exposed flesh and ligament was as good as any he could think of. The force of the impact alone was bad, but combined with that awful snapping sound and the sudden yelps and cries of pain it was enough to state plainly, clearly, the difference in their abilities.
“You see, Kazu? This is as far as you can get. This is as much as you can do. When you came in here, spouting this nonsense about how strong you are, how you’re ready to fight me, how you’re ready to fight the Konungr, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to get through your thick skull.” Ryohei drove the staff in, harder, and twisted. Kazu’s screams echoed off the dojo walls, heard by none but loyal dogs. This time, for sure, he felt something twisting out of the way, underneath.
“I think this might have done it. I think maybe this will teach you what happens when you speak without thinking. I think you don’t want to find out what happens if I catch you acting without thinking.” The pressure would begin to letup. Ryohei walked away towards the Dojo's door, leaving Kazukura to lie there, without so much as moving a muscle to help.
"I think that's enough for today, boy. We begin our lessons again tomorrow, an hour before dawn. Don't eat any breakfast."
Shutting the sliding door behind him, Ryohei began to ponder. Perhaps he was too hard on the boy? Perhaps he let his anger get the best of him, sometimes, when the child said something disdainful or curt. So be it. This one held a raging inferno inside of him: a blaze, too bright to contain, that would swallow him up and spit him out a corpse, or a hostage, or a tool of some Merchant Lord if the boy did not learn to control his impulses. Ryohei needed to strengthen him, develop him, mold him.
A little thick skin will do him some good, with what's to come. He regretted the pain he saw plainly in those deep red eyes, the boy looking at him with the same pain his mother had that fateful night, but he knew that pain would help bring him up. It would teach Kazu something important:
Strength and Power are absolute.
That boy has far to go. He will see distant lands, experience things beyond most men, and become greater than he could ever imagine, mused Ryohei as he walked casually through the halls of the Ryuzaki Estate.
But I do not envy the path he must walk to get there. A faint, crawling, stabbing in his gut!
Fear. Then, a thought:
What if the path bests him? RAGE! — sharply, Ryohei inhales; there’s a deep dark pit, full of bad dreams and spoiled hopes, that all things standing between him and his ambitions belonged in. Fear. Anger. He breathed, slowly, and let it all fall away. Down it fell, never to be thought of again.
I must train him well. He needs to be ready for what’s coming! Ryohei’s pace quickened, without his noticing, and with his mind tumbling over itself he didn’t notice the hooded figure creeping up behind him in the shadows. Neither did he notice the knife gleaming in the candlelight...
TWELVE YEARS AGO...
The Streets of Sunagakure, The Cabal Invasion
Turmoil and strife. Pain and suffering. Confusion and dissention. Kazukura was born in the midst of the Cabal Invasion to a man and woman he’d never know — the anarchy and panic of those fateful days were most unkind. His father died fighting a futile struggle against a flame-haired Cabal member, who wielded a massive sword, in order to give his mother a chance to escape; she died from natural causes, a combination of blood loss from injuries sustained and exhaustion from exerting herself so extensively during and after childbirth, though not before miraculously escorting her newborn child to safety amid the hellish landscape of battle that had engulfed the village. It was said that she stormed across the fighting, eyes ablaze with fury and motherly wrath, and men scrambled over each other to get out of her way. She found a man willing to take in her child, to raise it, and care for it before she passed. The man’s name was Ryuzaki Ryohei.
"What?! No! Absolutely not! How could such an idea even come to be in your mind?!" Ryohei, naturally, was not agreeable with the idea — namely, his adoption of her infant son — to begin with.
The woman before him was striking. It wasn't just the crimson red eyes, deep pools of blood filled with the life force of her slain enemies to fuel her own might; nor was it the ferocity of her gaze, so intense and penetrating that he swore she could read his thoughts; or her flowing curly locks of amber that threatened to whisk him away in a fiery blaze of passion; or even the thin and jagged spear of milky white bone, resembling a short spear of some sort with a sharp crooked crack along one end, held up towards his chest. Her casual stance spoke volumes of her approximation of his risk to her — she carried a newborn child nestled against her left side, while thrusting a spear out with her right — yet did not hold the bone-spear tightly, nor did she do more than point it in his general direction. On the field of battle, that was a lot of trust to give out.
"You must do this for me. I would not ask this of anyone." She was resolute, insistent. Ryohei could not deny he admired her tenacity.
"I have no options. My child will live." The look she gave him somehow became fiercer, more impactful, though he did not understand how it could do so.
This woman has the force and will of a true Dragon. High praise from one of the Ryuzaki Clan.
"Tell me you will take him in! Tell me you will care for him!" There was no way he could refuse her. He wasn't sure when, but at some point he had begun to come around to the idea. He realized, quite suddenly, he had begun to imagine a life together. A fool's paradise.
"Why me? How can you know I am capable of carrying such a responsibility?"
"Kokotsu see the soul through the eyes. I know you, Dragon." It was impossible for Ryohei to suppress the shock on his usually resolute face, nor would he dare let her see him reacting to realizing as much. How could she know that one of the Ryuzaki, the great and honorable Clan of Dragons, whose legacy stretched all the way back to Legatus, one of the First Men, walked the streets of Sunagakure — that city which had blessed the Sunahoshi, the fiercest rivals of the Ryuzaki, with power and influence beyond compare — on this most fateful day? He had many questions, like what a Kokotsu was, but she continued without giving him an opportunity to voice them,
"You are meant to raise my Kazukura. Please, I beg you, teach him the way to peace as he was meant to know." Suddenly, her back leg gave out and she hobbled onto one knee; for the first time, Ryohei saw the blood streaming down in small trickles from the backs of her arms, legs, and torso — she was bleeding to death.
Ryohei stepped forward, apart from his men, to approach her. What had started as an innocent foray by a group of sympathetic and curious Ryuzaki into a foreign land, friends and Clansmen and brothers-in-arms who shared a similar sentiment of discontent with the ever deepening rivalry between themselves and the other Sunan Clans, only to be caught by surprise in the middle of this unprecedented assault of the city, had turned into a small band of fighters, saviors, and rescuers. What had started as a group of no more than a dozen Ryuzaki had swelled into a small contingency of survivors, the majority of which were the very same Sunagakurians that the Ryuzaki supposedly despised, all fighting together as equals. Ryohei wasn't one to believe in fate, but there were too many coincidences piling up around this encounter to be anything but.
Casually, he swatted aside the outstretched short spear; it fell to the side uselessly. Catching her in one arm, supporting her against the continuing collapse of her knee, he held her up cautiously and gently. He could smell her hair, vaguely floral, and blood — soon, the metallic stench completely filled his nostrils. With his free arm, he carefully scooped up the child with her help, and nuzzled it carefully into his chest. It squirmed a little, sensing something, but amazingly the child was quite asleep even in the middle of battle. He felt the woman shift in his arms, craning down to look at her baby, and extended a soft hand towards its face. Softly, sadly, she cooed. Gently, she caressed its cheeks.
"Grow strong, my little one, and know I will always be watching you. We will see each other again, in the After Lands. They will call me Kizuna there, but you may ask for 'Mother.' They will know how to find me." With what seemed her last bit of strength, she knelt down to kiss Kazukura on the head; the last time she would ever get to do so, in this life. With that, she softened herself into Ryohei's arms, too weak to support herself much longer. As she gazed up at him, with her blood red eyes, Ryohei began to feel something welling up inside him. The deep pit was expanding, swallowing him whole, a deafening roar in the back of his mind. He felt her hand on his face, and realized he could not see through the tears in his eyes.
"I can never repay you. I am sorry. Please, raise him well."
Moments after, her hand dropped from his face. Her body grew still, and the war-torn street around him grew quiet. Tears began to roll openly down Ryohei's face, his mouth twisted into a horrid contortion of misery, the hot liquid mixing with the sweat and blood stained across his visage. He could hardly keep from shaking.
"Kizuna — I will keep my promise; just wait for me — I'll find you." He was babbling. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He was wracked with agony, yet he had hardly known this woman. He could not explain it, but he also could not deny his own feelings. Not these kinds.
"Why Kizuna? Why did you pick me? What did you see in me? Oh gods, don't leave! Stay here. Please? Kizuna...Kizuna..." His sobs trailed on, a mighty Dragon reduced to a trembling lizard.
All around him, the Cabal Invasion raged on. The din of battle cast a dreary backdrop for this tragic moment, burned forever into Ryohei's mind. Kizuna, and her son. The boy whom he had agreed to raise. Reality was closing in, and fast. Suddenly, young Kazukura began to wail; Ryohei followed suit.
PRESENT DAY...
Ryuzaki Estate, Student versus Teacher
Pain wracked Kazukura as he lay against the well lacquered bamboo flooring, surrounded in a small lake of his own sweat, waiting for his body to stop heaving and burning as if a small fire were growing out of control within him.
I would have won if he didn’t cheat this time. Eyes closed, to keep the sweat from pouring into his eyes and burning, he focused his attention on the waves of pain coursing through his body, truly feeling them. When his mind began to wander, he was supposed to concentrate on the subtle movement of his chest, up and down, as he breathed. That was supposed to help him control his overactive thoughts.
I had him! How did he see my attack? What did I do wrong? Every inhalation brought cold relief, and every exhalation a burning soreness that only lodged itself deeper into his body. As he continued to breathe his inner voice began to sound fainter, almost as if getting further away. Thoughts were slippery; they skated on the outer edges of his awareness, circling around and around, until drifting right in front of his face.
I should have beat him! I will beat him! He will acknowledge me! Just as soon as his mind seemed to have settled, it pushed back at him in a most frustrating way.
Opening his eyes, Kazu realized for the first time that Ryohei was lecturing him in that hollow tone.
How long have I been laying here? Get up! In truth, it had been no more than ten or fifteen seconds; but, the fear that he had missed too much had already taken hold — his pulse quickened a little at the thought of Ryohei catching him slacking on purpose — and, quickly, he had sat himself up to at least crouch. Sweat still streaking down his face, so as to make him have to wipe thick droplets out of his eyes every few moments, Kazu was able to catch the sight of Ryohei’s back as it disappeared behind a doorway, out of sight, and without so much as another word. Something inside Kazu shrunk back, deflated, though he wasn't sure why.
What does that old man even know, anyways? My form was perfect! I hope he trips on a loose board.
"Wow, kid, that was brutal. You hanging in there?" Kazu had to stop himself from jumping upon first hearing the voice coming from behind him; Enishi always had been better at stealth.
"Shut up, Enishi," was all Kazu was able to get out, though only once he'd said something did Kazu realize his forehead was scrunched into a wicked lightning bolt of knotted brow muscles. That, and his voice was tense and just a
little bit shriller than normal; however, Kazu didn't seem to notice, or acknowledge, those latter two clues to his internal emotional turbulence.
"I had him. He just...didn't do what I thought he was going to..."
A devilish smirk spread across Enishi's lackadaisically calm face.
"HA! What, did you think he was going to stand aside and let you win? The first thing you should expect is for him to do something unexpected." Enishi and Kazu grew up in an incredibly competitive environment; Enishi, being the elder sibling, rarely ever fell short of Kazu in anything. Eight years the older, Enishi seemed to enjoy basking in Kazu's mistakes and offering wisdom (or in many more cases, criticisms) here and there. In many ways, he felt more comfortable around — yet also required more approval from — Enishi, rather than Ryohei.
At least Enishi acknowledges me.
Enishi also didn't tend to bring up the face that Kazu was not
truly of the Ryuzaki blood, as Ryohei tended to. Such restraint went a long way.
"He says I think too much. That I act without thinking." When Enishi's mouth tightened rapidly in suppression of a grin, his hand starting to raise up to cover his laughter, then hesitating before returning it to his side, Kazu's forehead threatened to tighten so much his face would rip apart. His cheeks were almost the same shade as his eyes.
"What?! You got something to say too?!" Enishi's playful tossing of Kazu's hair with an outstretched hand did nothing to alleviate the mood.
"Kid, if only you knew. I remember when he used to give me this hard of a time..." Sighing, with a stupid grin on his face, Enishi's gaze lifted from Kazu to travel across the length of the Dojo and penetrate the back door through which Ryohei had just left. He chuckled a little to himself, musing over something invisible that Kazu was unable to see, before he returned his gaze to Kazu's.
"Go catch up to him and ask if he'll watch over you while you practice your forms. I know-" he said, preemptively raising his hands in an attempt to placate Kazu's small outburst of complaint,
"-I know, he didn't tell you to. Yes, I know you'd rather be doing something else. But you'd be surprised what gets under that old lizard's skin — he's got some real soft spots, if you just know where to poke at." The two shared a moment of eye contact; Kazu's eyes reflected his disbelief and unsure mind, while Enishi's reflected his assurances, past experience, and confidence. Advice unasked for, yet given all the same, was sometimes hard to accept.
But then again, Enishi does mean well...
"Go on. He probably didn't get far yet." Nodding slowly, Kazu began to pick himself up off the floor. The majority of the sweat clinging to him had evaporated off by now, and his breathing was much more regular. His entire body no longer ached, merely parts of it.
I bet I could handle a few sparring rounds against Enishi, instead. Disregarding that notion, Kazu crossed the room casually and waved back to Enishi in thanks as he opened the door slowly. Crossing the threshold, he closed the door behind him and turned to see which direction Ryohei had went. Not seeing him down either direction, perhaps in part due to the dim candlelight used to illuminate these halls, Kazu chose to go right.
Walking down the corridor, the young boy wondered if Ryohei really would react like Enishi had said he would.
I doubt it. He's always going off on me, always correcting my stances, always saying I'm not doing it right, or that I forgot a crucial detail. Why can't he ever praise me, like he does Enishi? Kazu wanted to make his father proud. That's all he'd ever worked towards.
What do I need to do? How do I prove myself to him? Kazu, lost in his thoughts, turned the corner without looking...
...and found himself staring at a hooded figure looming over a bleeding man, slumped against the wall. Had the shock of what he was seeing not frozen him in place — his mind racing to process everything happening before him made his limbs feel heavy and sluggish — he probably would have been noticed immediately. As it was, the hooded figure was more occupied with the target before him: he recognized the features of an older man who once had been mighty, before time and strife had weathered and aged him, caught off-guard and unarmed, who was clutching at a long, sharp, slender knife buried deep into his left ribs. Blood streamed down the sides of the man's fighting gi. Down Ryohei's gi. His father's...
HE'S GOING TO DIE!
"My, my, not quite done yet, are we?" The hooded figure spoke with a woman's voice, but Kazu was barely paying attention.
Move! His limbs trembled.
I need to do something! What was he supposed to do?
I don't even have a weapon...I can't do anything...I just...I... What was this feeling in his chest? This burning, twisting knot that threatened to drag him six feet under ground? It leadened his limbs, and paralyzed his mind.
Fear. Not just any kind of fear; scared for his life, Kazu felt primal fear — raw, illogical, hunt-or-be-hunted fear that drove all animals to
survive.
She's going to kill him. RAGE! Raw anger and unchecked fury raged within Kazu, spurring him to action and driving him through whatever had been blocking him moments before. He felt his limbs stabilizing.
I know what I need to do.
Something inside him clicked into place. He didn't know how he knew he could do it, but he did: he felt something in his arm move, from
inside his arm, getting longer and extending. It felt warm, almost a dull burning sensation, then suddenly he felt something sharp poking at his palm from the
inside of his skin. It pierced through! Pain shot up the length of his arm, but almost just as soon it began to feel icy cool, just short of soothing. Kazu looked down, somehow already knowing what he was going to see — a sharpened length of bone was growing out from his arm, getting longer and longer, until he could feel the base of the extending pole detach from his radius and be fully expelled out through the rip in his palm. Grabbing the weapon, he had expected to start bleeding profusely just as soon as the whole bone spear had exited his palm, yet when he examined the exit wound it appeared to already be stitching itself back together.
Is this the Kokotsu?
Ryohei had never hid from him the fact he was adopted. Kazu knew the stories, how his mother had found Ryohei on the field of battle, selected him, and passed Kazu on so that he might live and be saved. He'd heard the tales of his mother's strange kekkei genkei, had wondered what it might be, and whether he would ever be able to do the same things.
Well, now I know. The Kokotsu...
"Will you just die already, old man? It won't work if it's not fresh, and then what would have been the point of all this? I guess you'd still be dead, but what about me?" The sound of her voice brought Kazu back to reality. To the current moment.
I'm such a fool, he thought to himself as he gripped the handle of his bone spear more tightly.
I really do think too much. Instinct took over before Kazu could think another thought. The assailant, with her back turned, didn't notice Kazu approaching silently from the shadows. She didn't see the fiery blaze of anger and fury, passion and purpose, which drove the young boy with coal black hair to do the unthinkable. She didn't hear the silent footsteps approaching from behind, creeping up in just the same way that she'd done to catch Ryohei off guard. She didn't feel the spear point slip in-between her shoulder blades, twisted clockwise like a drill to drive the whole thing in, then burst out the front of her chest.
"What about you?" There, it's done. Kazu was relieved, his grip slackening ever so slightly on the spear's hilt.
I did it...
"Oh? What's this?" Shock and panic gripped Kazu as his hands grabbed ahold of his weapon once more, and twisted it out the opposite way to loosen the instrument. Shearing the spear back out her back, Kazu would have expected a wound like that to finish anyone in a single shot. Yet, instead of blood, he saw merely a writhing mass beneath her skin. The wound, which he could plainly see through, had closed and healed in moments.
"My, my, you're not supposed to be here. This was not part of my plans..." How is she still alive? Kazu didn't understand what was happening here, but he knew this woman was dangerous. Backing up, putting distance between them, was the only smart move he could think of right now. She had turned to face him now, yet he could see little more than stringy black hair pouring out of the dark hood she wore. There was just a hint of her lower jaw to indicate facial expressions.
"Leave him alone!" Kazu tried to sound authoritative, in charge, but the way her mouth curled into a smile made his resolve weaken slightly.
She's disregarding me! He braced himself, prepared for whatever she was to hurl at him.
"Well, since you asked so nicely..." Ethereally, she began to glide towards Kazu at a phenomenally rapid rate. That was the last thing Kazu had expected. Bracing himself for an impact, he barely registered how strange it was for her to have been gliding over the floor so smoothly.
It's like she's a ghost! Just as he thought so, before she could collide with him, the hooded woman turned into a wisp of trailing smoke which enveloped Kazu, blinding, dizzying, and sedating him. His nose was filled with a sickly sweet scent, and a voice whispered into his ear. Her voice.
"We shall meet again, little Kazukura. Please try to grow stronger by then — your attempt to take my life was pathetic, to say the least." The whispering voice mocked him as it faded into the distance, tauntingly just out of reach. Kazu wanted to scream, kick, punch, and thrash about, but his limbs would not obey him.
Slowly, he realized he was lying on the ground. The smoke had dissipated, the voice completely gone, and Ryohei was still bleeding.
Move, damn it! I can't let that cranky old bastard die until he acknowledges me! He struggled, and wiggled, and fought, until finally he was able to move his pinky the tiniest bit.
Keep going! He was desperate. More quickly, now, the numbness began to fade — it seemed once the first parts of the effect began to wear off, the remaining effects soon followed — and then the dizziness, until finally Kazu was able to lift himself up onto his hands and knees.
Is he okay?! Kazu crawled towards his father, trying hard not to look at how deep the stabbing had been.
I'm going to make sure he's okay. Kazu reached for his temple, remembering the basic lessons that Ryohei himself had taught him, searching for his father's pulse.
He has to be okay! He has to!
Ba-bump. It was weak.
Ba-bump. But it was there, and that was enough for Kazu.
Hold on, you scaly old dragon. I've got you. Through a combination of the intense physical training he had been put through and the intense amounts of adrenaline coursing through his veins, Kazu hoisted his father onto his shoulders and started to run back down through the halls of the Ryuzaki Estate.
Hospital. Gotta get to the hospital. He didn't even have the wits about him to find and tell Enishi. His only concern was getting Ryohei to the hospital in one piece.
He didn't even notice the fact he was still carrying the spear of bone in his hand, with not a drop of blood on it.
[Will continue this history by posting in the Suna Hospital with this starting premise.]
