The moment he’d waited for. Kiyoki sat before him, sneering down at the young man and petting the blades of the axe on his lap. Ha would have been hard pressed to go through all of his emotions then. This was his father. It was the man who helped shape him into a warrior. This man took away his pity, his remorse; this man replaced it all with the all consuming fury that pushed him ever onwards. Hate, fear, loathe, awe, abhor, pity, detest. Those were the main ones going through him now. He’d strived the past four years to get to this moment, to have this man before him without his guards or army; this was the moment Ha wanted more than any for half his life.
”So, the whelp returns. Do you think your army can stand before a god?”
”I think you are no god. I have seen God. You are but a man. And not even a good one at that. Too pathetic to truly rule, too scared of losing your power to use it properly, too weak to hold onto it now that the people demand you let it go. Step from that throne, you cur, and suffer the fate you have wrought.”
Kiyoki’s scream was equal parts fear and rage as he launched himself at Ha. The younger man steps aside and whistles sharply, a blast of air throwing his father across the room and giving him room to unsheathe his sword. As his father rises, Ha rushes forward with the blade before him. Sparks fly as sword and axe meet, and the flames of hatred rise in their eyes as father and son stare at each other between their weapons. Kiyoki’s grunts prove that a life on the throne did him no favors against a younger, more fit foe when it comes to sheer brawn. But he had his own tricks.
Ha stumbles as his father simply vanishes. He looks around, but a noise behind him gives him only a moment’s notice before the blade of the axe slams into his side and bowls him over. It bit deep, his armor robbing it of much of its power but not all. The young man turns his roll into a stumbling rise, stepping back from Kiyoki as he begins to swing once more. Then without a warning, Kiyoki begins to flicker between different spaces in the throne room. Ha assumed it was a genjutsu, however his own men began to scream about it, and with a sinking feeling he knew it was something more. This is confirmed with the axe is launched at him, a wild attack easily deflected. But in deflection came an opening, as Kiyoki rushed in, his hands suddenly blurry with some force.
Ha was being stabbed. Each blow of those fists into his form was as a knife, piercing his armor and skin with ease. Ha leaps back, swinging his blade sharply to form the notes. A barrier of wind forms around him, a wall of solid air that moved at impossible speeds. It wouldn’t hold him forever, but it should hold long enough for Ha to plan his next moves.
Instead the entire shell is ripped apart as Kiyoki steps inside of its perimeter. As if it never was, his father strides right through. And his flickers became more. Whole images of his father form, rushing, attacking, and fleeing. It was dizzying. It was impossible to tell the true from the false. This was no genjutsu. This was the power of his father’s blood. Suddenly his father is before him, as if he stepped between realities. Blows fly in, landing with a precision that only Ha’s surprise would allow. He swings his blade out, the edge biting into Kiyoki’s side. And Ha smirks, whistling several notes as he presses on to keep Kiyoki from getting away again.
Snow begins to fall from the ceiling. Several of his soldiers stare in awe as the blizzard comes down, trapping the two men in its chill embrace. Much of it seems to bind itself to Kiyoki’s form, freezing at his legs and arms. And with the ground now covered, it became easier to tell the true Kiyoki from the images. He could track the foot prints and hope this skill, whatever it was, did not extend to that. Sadly, one look put that to rest. Whatever power his father had, it was making the snow itself pop where the images stepped. And then Kiyoki rushes in once more.
Ha kawarimis away, the log left behind in his wake as he does. But once the movement ends, Kiyoki is simply behind him once more, fists coming in hard. But slower. The younger man manages to deflect his blows with his own blade, mind furiously thinking. He spins his wrist, blade coming in high, but more importantly the music shifting. As Kiyoki leaps back, Ha reaches out with his mind, using the music to enter more easily into his father’s head.
Kiyoki begins to turn his head, squinting. It had worked, to his father it would appear as dark as night. Ha slows his movements, sneaking around behind the man. With a sudden rush, he lunges, his blade slipping between Kiyoki’s shoulder blades and sliding through. A feeling of euphoria rises within Ha. He had done it.
Reality itself seemed to deny this fact. A feeling as if some ancient, great being had swatted him aside sent not only Ha, but also his men, to the ground. Kiyoki turns, slowly with a sword going through his spine, but amazingly he does turn.
”I am a god. You cannot kill that which is divine. Reality is mine. Your men are mine. YOU are mine. And you all will suffer for this transgression.”
He forms a single seal and points at Ha, the smirk of victory on his lips. Ha watches as time seems to slow. And he acts, whistling softly as letting a burst of air slide him along the ice covered floor. A wave of power flies through the air where he was, and several of his own soldiers who were behind him simply disintegrate. Focusing chakra to his feet, the warrior rises from the slide in a dead spring for his father, who even now is moving to once more target him. Again that energy flies out. Ha does not dodge. He wishes he could see the look of glee on his father’s face as the power begins to flood into him.
And with a crack, the same log from before ruptures into nothing. Kiyoki blinks in amazement before feeling the sword yank free violently from his form. He turns, a pulse of reality destroying energy going out from him. It was a potent attack that Ha leapt free from, landing behind his father and bringing the blade down, point slipping between his collar bone and neck and going deep down his right side. Blood begins to pool along the floor as it drips from the exit wound in his groin. Ha places a foot on his father’s back and kicks with all his might, the blade tearing free from his form.
Ha looks down at the form cowering before him. This was it. This was the man who had put him through hell. And hell had come.
”Son, please. Don’t do this. We do not have to fight. You win. Do not kill me. I beg of you, for the blood we share.”
”Do not beg. My mother did not beg for her life. She was stronger than you. You are simply a coward, too weak to accept fate.”
Kiyoki looks up, fear in his eyes as he watches that blood red blade descend.
Ha looks up from the headless form, eyes moving to what of his men remained. ”Go find Saia. I want her locked in her room for my judgment.” As they rush to obey, he looks down once more at the corpse rapidly cooling on the floor. A mere man, playing a game he could not comprehend.
Saia was as he remembered. A face of cold, sharp angles with eyes that showed both intellect and cruelty. She, at least, was not begging. She sat with her head held high, even now looking down her nose at him. He knew that she was his sister, that she was his mom’s sister also. This was the woman who had his mother done away with to gain more favor with their father. The woman who outed him in his weakness and doubts and had him beaten. Who turned her own son, his brother, against him. She was no longer deserving of mercy.
”I will not stand for this! I am the daughter of a god and you will do as I say you little shi-“
Ha cuts her short with a backhand, then reaches out and lifts her by the neck with the same hand, slamming her back against the wall. He begins to hum, the first he’d done in a long time. Ice forms on the surface behind her, tendrils reaching out to hold her fast in place. The look of defiance, however, was still in her eyes. He does not let go until she is truly trapped.
”You’re not like him. You truly believe you’ll get out of this somehow. That I don’t have what it takes to end you. You’re putting on a brave face in adversity. I can respect that. My mother did the same. Let me show you how that works, you traitorous whore.”
Ha unsheathes his sword. It was going to be a long night. And before the sun rose, the look of fear would indeed enter her eyes. And she would scream. She would beg. And only when the light of day entered the room would he put her out of her misery.
