The island was strangely reminiscent of how the Isaki idealized the Mist islands of his past. Though it was not made into the tourist attraction his homeland was, the beach reminded him of it. It was an empty, hidden paradise; had he been younger or someone else entirely, he might have been able to appreciate it. He was waiting. There was more to this island than he had initially known; here was a key to his past, and him. The murderer of his clan. The Isaki were here, there was no doubt to him that information of Hoshikata was here; perhaps even the man was here. It had been a long fifteen years, and yet only now could he fight him.
Unlike the beaches in the south, the sand was a pristine white. It was a facade, as though the pure nature of the beaches suggested the island and its people to be like. With the Isaki here, he knew how impossible it was. He saw how Hoshikata, and the rest of the clan used their wealth. Greed had polluted this place, even if they hadn't known it. It was the nature of anywhere the clan was.
A large wave crashed onto the white sand, riding upward towards the edge of the beach where the puppet body stood. The tide was coming in, the meeting wouldn't be too much longer. Something would be coming soon, not likely to be a flaunt of wealth given no information was known. Had they even known of Karurosu? A younger brother of an Isaki who actually mattered? Beyond a medical leader, what significance had he held in the grand schemes of the Isaki? He wasn't even made into some puppet leader. His time at the mantle was too short. Isaki Karurosu had died, like many others, during that mysterious freeze.
Who was he, then? If he was any Isaki, they would know too soon. If he claimed to be anyone affluent, it was more likely than not they would know soon after, as well. And if he claimed to be nobody, this meeting would end shortly after as he would hold no significance to whoever it was that he would be meeting. Who, then? He was not Akiyama Kari of Stone, an irrelevant student who had died in the woods; neither was he Aoto, a wandering merchant from Snow country. Perhaps, then, an alias would suffice.
They finally arrived.
"Good evening," the puppet turned towards them. There was a scent of lingering death from the puppet. "I am Kurou."
Unlike the beaches in the south, the sand was a pristine white. It was a facade, as though the pure nature of the beaches suggested the island and its people to be like. With the Isaki here, he knew how impossible it was. He saw how Hoshikata, and the rest of the clan used their wealth. Greed had polluted this place, even if they hadn't known it. It was the nature of anywhere the clan was.
A large wave crashed onto the white sand, riding upward towards the edge of the beach where the puppet body stood. The tide was coming in, the meeting wouldn't be too much longer. Something would be coming soon, not likely to be a flaunt of wealth given no information was known. Had they even known of Karurosu? A younger brother of an Isaki who actually mattered? Beyond a medical leader, what significance had he held in the grand schemes of the Isaki? He wasn't even made into some puppet leader. His time at the mantle was too short. Isaki Karurosu had died, like many others, during that mysterious freeze.
Who was he, then? If he was any Isaki, they would know too soon. If he claimed to be anyone affluent, it was more likely than not they would know soon after, as well. And if he claimed to be nobody, this meeting would end shortly after as he would hold no significance to whoever it was that he would be meeting. Who, then? He was not Akiyama Kari of Stone, an irrelevant student who had died in the woods; neither was he Aoto, a wandering merchant from Snow country. Perhaps, then, an alias would suffice.
They finally arrived.
"Good evening," the puppet turned towards them. There was a scent of lingering death from the puppet. "I am Kurou."
WC: 426
<i></i>