"Obaa-sama, let me out!" a boy cried, pounding at the doors of his room. There was nothing he could do to unlock the doors. His grandmother was the last one he had seen, and had instructed him not to leave his room unless she allowed him to do so. She would never lock him up alone before, even at his naughtiest, which was why he knew that something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

There was literally nothing in his room that could help him to escape, save for a porcelain vase, filled with moist dirt. He had gotten it ready to plant the strange red flower with five petals that his father tended to in the memory of his long-gone mother, but he knew that it would have to wait. Reaching for the vase with his small hands, he took it down from the cupboard it was placed upon and raised it high above his head.

After a few deep breaths, he took aim. Then, he closed his eyes, and remembered what his father told him the morning previous during his lessons. "Remember, my son, Ki is the basis of the existence of all living beings. Our people have our powers, because we have more of them, and can use them more efficiently than the humans. The more you cultivate it, the more powerful you will become…" He concentrated, and focused all his internal energy on the vase, adding a silent prayer to whatever deity existed, to make his plan work.

With a great shout, he threw the vase towards the shoji door, which broke into pieces. Wasting not a second, he ran towards the courtyard of his family's manor, but found no one there. There was not a sound to be heard, and not a soul to be heard.

He was about to turn towards another direction, the back of the manor, perhaps, when he heard a great crash coming from the main hall, where his family received their guests of honor. The sound reminded him of breaking furniture, and promptly guided him to where he needed to go.

As he came closer to the main hall, he started to see more and more silhouettes there. They were members of his large family, his cousins, uncles and aunts… But where were his father and grandmother? He could not see them, or sense their presence anywhere…

The boy started to run as fast as his legs could bring him. Crossing the courtyard never seemed so difficult, his destination further to him due to the deep sense of foreboding in his heart… Too many long seconds had passed, and panting, he finally reached the main hall. Pushing past the adults that blocked his way, he finally found his grandmother, who quickly drew him into her arms.

"Don't look, young one!" she warned, covering his eyes. Something… bad was happening. He could feel it in his bones.

"Obaa-sama, where is Otou-sama?" he asked his grandmother, struggling against her strong hold. Although she was of a venerable age, she was still sprightly, holding an untold amount of strength if she wished to. "I want to see Otou-sama!"

A cold laugh cackled through the air, and his grandmother took a step back, taking him with her. It was the voice of his uncle, his father's brother. "Your father is no more, boy," he chuckled evilly, snatching the boy away from his grandmother. Held by the wrist, the boy could only gape in the utter shock at the sight of his father, in a pool of his own blood, his heart clearly punctured. "Soon, you will join him…"

"How dare you!" the boy's grandmother shouted. "He is your brother's son! He is now the rightful head of our family, not you!" Tears descended from her eyes in rivers, but her words went unheeded. She endeavored to snatch the boy back from her son, but he pushed her back.

"Hmph, such a child is no challenge to me," the boy's uncle sniggered. "What can he do?"

The boy sobbed as he looked at the corpse of his father, but he knew that it would be the last time he had shown such weakness. He wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his silken yukata, and walked towards his father's fallen katana and picked it up. He did not speak, but aimed the katana towards his uncle.

"Do you even know how to use it, boy?" his uncle taunted further. "You've been hiding behind your grandmother's skirts for far too long…"

He shouted. The boy gave a great, loud shout, and remembering his experience with the vase and the doors to his chamber, he concentrated all his Ki onto his father's katana. He took the high guard, a default stance that his father had taught him several summers ago, and watched his uncle, who only raised an eyebrow at him.

When he no longer had the voice to call out further, he took a great step forwards, and found himself right in front of his uncle. Thrusting the katana forwards, he aimed for his uncle's heart, to replicate what he had done to his father. What followed was utter silence, save for a sickening splatter of fluid pouring out from a newly-punctured crevice.

The boy threw away the katana as his uncle knelt down and fell back, dead. He turned towards his grandmother and knelt down to her, seeing that she was too distraught for words.

"Obaa-sama, from now on, I will protect you, and everyone else in our family," he swore, his head held low as he prostrated himself to his grandmother, and the rest of his clan. "I'll become so strong and powerful that no one will ever want to think of harming us."

His grandmother was silent, but put a gentle hand on his head, stroking his sun-gold hair that was now stained red with the blood of his traitorous uncle. "I know, child. I know," she replied. "You will make your father proud, my dear, brave Chikage."

HAN: HELLO THERE! I've returned, and decided that instead of writing a sequel for The Quest: Hakuouki Tsuisekiroku, I'd write a prequel, curtailing Kazama's journeys that would lead him to meet Chizuru. Heh heh heh. I was struck by a sudden burst of inspiration, because I was watching Otomate Party 2012 and 2013, where both Hakuouki and Toki no Kizuna were featured at the same time. Itou Kentarou's Kazama Chitose made me very intrigued regarding his descendant's childhood, and thus, I decided to turn a little plot-bubble into a project.

I do hope that you enjoy this as much as you've enjoyed The Quest!