They will never admit it,but they would be nothing without him. All Asakuras have comes from him. Hao will never admit it, but once he was weak. He was nobody. And he made himself strong.

Author note: This is fic and character analysis of Hao and his relationship with his family ( hint-it's not great. At all. He is also 99% doing his best to pack in as much insults as he can for original members). Read, hopefully enjoy, and please review.


It is good to see that his family hasn't changed much. Still same, ungrateful bunch of brats, blinded by their own weaknesses and short-sighted goals. They even repeat same personality each few generations ( or he has not-really-lived-and-not-quite-died too long).

Of course, there are changes. Current family is much, much dumber, and has been so for generations, for centuries. Hao suffered no fools in his first life,habit that hasn't changed even after thousand years ( they had to be good in order to kill him, after all, even if it took all of them). All of people he employed/adopted/saved were competent, for all they were envious and two-faced. And his children…well, they were obnoxious back-stabbing brats, and each one's puberty made him consider suicide, but they were skilled, clever, creative and smart.

He would have to check just what things they allowed to marry in. This lack of brain cells didn't come from his side. Who knew just what sort of idiots and fools had become members of Asakura family through centuries.

If it turned out that his children married some of those useless nobles and pathetic excuses for shamans… His children were smart enough to recognize fools and scoundrels, but there were many older members who could influence, or even bring about decision in their name… If that happened, he would summon them all from deepest depths of Great Spirits and feed them all to Spirit of Fire.


Asakura is mighty clan, one of the greatest to ever walk the Earth. Some would even claim that they are the greatest clan, at least in Japan. Didn't they lead onmyodo ministry for centuries? Don't their warehouses contain untold, ancient treasures? Aren't all secrets of Japanese shamanism known to them? Don't they know secret, special spells known only to few? Don't they watch over Mount Osore, there where lost souls collect and entrance to hell is located, from where ghosts can travel on Sanzu River?

They are proud of these facts, of course. How could they not be? But they don't dare speak how they gained such prestige, will never utter a word how they achieved such influence. At best, he will get ''Our ancestor '' not founder, they don't dare speak that word, won't admit they would be nothing without him '' was skilled shaman, and it could be said that we prospered because of his abilities.''

They never speak how they gained control over ministry. Never say how he became grand onmyoji at age of twelve, how he saved capitol. How he faced title's previous owner, fought his master's predecessor without even knowing what oversoul was. How he tore apart demon of blood and betrayal and brimstone even when he was on verge of death, how he held Daitaro's broken, bloodied, smiling corpse.

They don't say that he was but a child, thrown to pack of wolves. Twelve, and he had to take care of petty Imperial Court, to defend himself against envious onmyoji who hungered after his place. There were other families, other clans, who sought to tear him apart, and they either fell from favor or were torn apart-in those days assassinations were all too common, and shikigami and curses were just another type of weapons. But he was too powerful, too cunning, too stubborn to be killed.

They don't say that they once ruled spiritual life of his homeland. For centuries they held control of damned ministry until it finally crumbled, governing onmyoji and shamans, controlling spirits, and meddling in petty politics that served nobody but rich and comforted ( this is another thing they skip over, their greed, their arrogance). And all of that was possible because of him, for he gained respect by blood and sweat and tears, and mark he left was deep and burning that they remained in power centuries after his death, that spirits feared them still.

They never talk about how those treasures were gained. How he crafted them from ordinary rock and rough stone, crafted and polished in sacred relics and perfect mediums, infused them with his furyoku and techniques. How he gained gifts and treasures from feared god-class spirits, by respect and fear, by bargain and fight, by wisdom and unthinkable magics.

They don't talk how he mastered all those techniques and taught them to his descendants. How, even when everybody told him that it was impossible, he learnt and learnt. Divination, warding,exorcism,spellcraft, ,Buddhism,Shugendo,Taoism,Onmyodo teachings. It didn't matter- he refused to specialize, insisted on learning all. And he did.

They don't speak about creation of Cho-Senjiryaketsu. Of nights, weeks he spent without food and sleep, working, experimentin, trying. Crafting new spells, developing new ways, called arrogant and foolish by his rivals. But he showed them all. He developed way to use plant spirits (not kodamas or yashas or dryads, leaves and roots and trunks themselves). He wrote whole book, sixteen chapters, containing most important techniques he created.

They don't speak about day he braved Osore, crossing it's rocks and blizzards without fear. How he passed hordes of dead and demons without fear. How he stood at supposed entrance-really, place where living and spirit world ( they all looked same to him, he belonged to both but neither was home) and gazed ahead, beyond thin borders, gazed at cursed dead and hungry demons and Hell and it's Lords, something not even dead can endure, and he claimed Osore.

They don't speak, and it matters not. His power is justly earned, and even if it is forgotten it will exist. Only consequence will be that many more fools will die in vain, trying to defeat him.

Still, credit should go where credit is due, no?


They are his descendants. Even if they spurn his name, even if they spit on his goal, even if all branches of clan stand against him .Some were of his seed and some were adopted, but he never cared. he equally raised them all and was equally betrayed.

They are mighty, for his legacy lives in them, for they are descendants of legend. Nobles among shamans. so to speak.

And in way, their blood is purer and higher then his. They have centuries of legacy and wealth and status and power. He has nothing.

He is son of common woman, without father ( so many people insist on that. As if that mattered. His mother was more than enough, more precious than thousand fathers and mothers). Peasant at best, child of whore at worst, so they ( nobles, warriors, people walking in street beside trash he slept on) told him.

His mother…she wasn't weak, of course, there is no way she of all people could have ever been weak. Even if she knew no grand technique and her furyoku was low, she wasn't weak. She simply…. didn't have to chance to grow, yes.

He won't tell them this, hasn't told that even to Matamune, but he was born without power, without talent, without high furyoku. Just a simple child unaware of what even shamans were (sometimes, he has nightmares, of losing it all, losing power and knowledge, being weak and helpless as Asaha, of losing connection to nature, of growing fangs, claws,ears,tails, becoming fox pup and being hunted by humans and hounds).

He was never human. Never weak. To imply otherwise is to burn.

Only when facing death, can true potential be revealed. After his mother was murdered, after he fled to the darkest part of forest, after he starved and froze, did everything begin. Death snuck to him, but he wasn't scared, didn't care, and it's hold was weakened, and without realizing,was too stubborn and proud and angry and tightly tied himself to his first body. He starved and suffered, but survived and grew.

He is blessed. By fire that consumed his home. By woods that hid him. By dirty streets he slept on. By broken steel blade he used to avenge mother's murder. By rain and snow and blood he endured for years. By death that covered Japan in form of hunger and plague and greedy nobles. By winds that whipped him. By thunder from which he hid.

Ash and dirt, blood and pain, hunger and darkness and death. That is all he had, could find nothing more. So he looked at other side- if it was all, then it was everything. If he could find nothing more, than he had everything he needed. He had enough ( it had to be enough, must always be enough). So he took it all and forged them in weapons ( water comes from metal and blood is water and iron, and if you bleed enough, you will have enough iron to craft a blade) and made himself in Asakura Hao.


People became onmyoji many reasons. Family traditions. Money. Position. Laziness, believing it to be easy job. Innocent wish to help everybody.

Hao isn't sure why he became onmyoji. Power? Survival? Because he didn't care enough to refuse and fight when Tadatomo gave him no choice ( just as he gave no choice to Daitaro, when he made senior apprentice in demon, when he took Hao to his room and grasped him with arms and shikigami). To get even?

For knowledge, he supposes sometimes. He always hungered for it ( he was born hungry and starved, for food and and power, for love and safety, for silence, for justice and souls, hunger woven alongside pride in his very bones). Always sought to learn, to grow and thrive and prosper, for if he was going to do something, he was going to be good at it.

He wanted to learn it all. He was told that it was impossible, that he would have to either specialize or take bits from all things but master none. But he didn't believe.

He stayed up for days, studying ancient writings. His eyes teared and eyelids almost dropped, his stomach growled and fingers bled from retracing words but he learnt and seared knowledge in his brain.

He came to best of teachers and knocked on their doors, politely but clearly demanding to be taught. And when they refused, he waited in their backyards till they gave up and let him partake of their knowledge.

He watched fights and ceremonies and divination consultations, figured it all out and analyzed and connected dots and guessed.

He tried and tried, to get results he wanted even if he had no idea how to accomplish that, and made his own way.

He traded with shamans and demons and gods, gained secrets by giving out his own or defeating them or accepting to give them favor or gift.

Human minds, and shaman as well aren't made to hold much knowledge. You could find ghost thirty thousand years old, but he couldn't recall a century. After some time, souls in afterlife lost note of passage of time, and didn't notice that what seemed to be day was actually hundreds of years.

But Hao remembers. He remembers and learns and grows. That is one of reasons why Hell is so much more pleasurable than Earth. So many things you can find only there. So many unique experiences. So many techniques you can learn only there. So many varied souls you can meet. So many beings with their strange wisdoms. In between fights and training he learns, from medicine over sewing to engineering.

Fighting and learning, resisting and adapting and growing. He was made for that.

(So easy it is to learn, when you have nobody to distract you. When only alternative is to sit and do nothing).


His descendants know nothing of his early life. Few records that have been left of his existence as Mappa Douji are now nothing but dust. History and legend alike record him only as Asakura Hao. No mention of his origin, his childhood.

They assume sometimes that he had been noble. Word feels like accusation, like denial of all he had been through, and it is wonder that his teeth don't grit, that his fists don't curl, that those who utter damned word don't burn.

Noble, he! As if he was ever that useless, lavishing in court and caring more about appearance than his duty! As if he ever lowered himself so much to plan downfall of those he called allies! As if he ever betrayed somebody! As if he was ever deaf to cries ( voiced and not) of servants and peasants and commoners! As if he ever got what he wanted only by tales of his ancestor's might.

As if he wasn't talked about with contempt, told in face and behind back and thought about how position of grand onmyoji should go to somebody more dignified, no matter fact that he saved them all. As if he had some allies, willing to accept common born child ( best he got were lies, manipulations, betrayals quickly discovered). As if he wasn't laughed at, called low-born and whore's child by arrogant nobles ( he showed nothing but they quickly learnt better), for he knew nothing of court's intricacies at beginning. As if he hadn't starved and crossed half of Japan with bare feet, hiding in trash and woods, oni stalking his steps. As if his poor mother didn't work herself to bone to provide him with food ( for who would work alongside demon on field? She might curse your crops).

He doesn't like to be reminded of those days, of dirty streets and deep woods. But he won't ever accept to be called nobleman. Asakuras must have allowed that, to make themselves seem more grand, to forget that all they have he made from ash and dirt, blood and pain, hunger and darkness and death.

The cursed legend remains, of course. That his mother was fox ( some say nine tailed one, and it pleases him somehow, to imagine her grand and powerful and divine). That she brought war and famine and plague and death wherever she went. That she seduced men and killed them. That he isn't truly human. That he is a demon.

Asakuras remember that. But don't speak, for if he was half-demon, doesn't that mean that they too carry infernal blood in their veins.

In sense, they are right. He is a demon child. Lie and truth blur and if you treat something like other thing, and if everybody does that, it becomes something else, and even learned shaman thought him half-human at best. he was raised for short time by Ohachiyo, and since he was lost, oni followed him, listened to him, stole for him, clothed and fed and protected him. He has powers shamans can't dream of, and if he wanted, he could become archdemon, devil strong enough to match Lords of Hell ( but too small, too useless for his goal) and most important of all-what is demon but fear, spacegoat for troubles of mankind, embodiment of all things they hate and abandon, shadow revealing their true intentions, mirror reflecting their sins.

In that sense, he is demon child. Always was and always will be, as it is with all blessed and cursed to not fit in ''normal.''


He is a god. Not a God, mind you, but god nonetheless.

It is rare, but shaman souls can ascend to status of god-class spirit of death. Bodhisattvas and buddhas, saints and sages, heroes and honored ancestors. Once enough time passes, once spirit travels through afterlife, when it is remembered as legend, nightmare or sacred figure, when it fights things great and powerful beyond mortal comprehension, once it finds purpose in death and life, it becomes deity.

It can learn and grow and remember, and time belongs to it.

It's perspective changes and expands, and it can comprehend truths of world.

It's sense of self and form is strengthened, and it can change shape of it's soul and resist what normal ghosts cannot bear and crush weaker souls and burns with purpose, goal that becomes it's nature.

It's influence spreads as it's fame grows, and humans are charmed in worship while demons obey it's will.

It becomes more than simple soul infused with high reiryoku, but attuned to spirits and ideas and nature in ways mortals cannot imagine, and it becomes capable of miracles.

So of course he is one. Shape he bears is whatever his body looks right now, though sometimes he reverts to his original one. Not important- who cares about shape when essence is same. He can bear tides of centuries, and knows that he wil experience eternity and feel every moment and remember all, so he cherishes opportunity to learn and grow ( and who cares about all nightmares, about never-ending loneliness. nobody, it doesn't matter). He is wiser and more mature then eldest elders, though he can behave as child, and there is nothing he doesn't know, and he can look upon and hear things and feel what would drive others into madness.

He is resistant to strongest attacks and he can consume souls ( he doesn't, he remembers Daitaro, remembers taste of his resentment and stench of his spirit, and he leaves that to Spirit of Fire-not as if his soul isn't already strong). He inspires utmost loyalty in demons by his mere passing, and even strongest eventually bow to him. He can manipulate essence of world and bestow gifts and resurrect dead with his simple will.

But he feels Earth's pain, hears and feels and sees nature's wishes, knows what it means to be river and wind and stone and fire and lighting and wood and coin and death, pain that drove him to fight and save Earth, that which is his goal, to protect and preserve balance of nature. he cannot rest.

So he goes and performs Taizan Fukun no Sai, Furyoku is always lower than reiryoku ( for spirit's experience and knowledge become power too) but he gains body and right to participate in Shaman Fight and become God of gods.

He is Asakura Hao, god of pentagram, will of Earth, representative of nature, beloved of elements, spirit of balance and justice. His mother's murder planted soil on which his divinity would prosper, his revenge against Densen Hoshi made it fertile. His absorption of Ohachiyo created seed and his defeat of Daitaro planted it. His mastery of elements and disgust and awe it brought was both water his divinity needed and first product of it. Matamune's betrayal and his family's treason were it's sunlight and roots.

And when he died for first time, it grew. When he found himself in hell, he became a god.


Sometimes he wonders where he went wrong with his children.

He gave them home, even though half were illegitimate and others were orphans from streets.

He treated them all same. Blood or not, they were his children.

He gave them education, discipline, fun, love, all things children needed.

He worked himself to bone to give them better life.

He listened to them, didn't try to force them to be somebody they weren't.

They thought he was…creepy. Strange. That he hid things from them. That he lied with composed face. That he didn't fir with rest of society. He never gave them reason, but they were afraid of his powers and ashamed of his behavior.

True, he didn't tell them some things. but they didn't need to worry about problems reishi was causing to him, couldn't understand pain of whole country felt at same time ( and would throw him away, call him mad and demon, they would hate him too) but he cared for them and they loved him.

Not enough to stay loyal.

His son in second life was too young, but Hao could see he would follow in footsteps of his long dead siblings.

At least he now had Opacho.

Sometimes, he wonders about seeing them, about calling them from beyond death's doors or meeting them when he becomes Shaman King.

Stupid thought. It would be weakness, and they would just attack him.


Sometimes, it bothers him, how he and his family look.

None of them have blonde hair or golden eyes. In generations trait hasn't resurfaced. None of them look like his mother. To see but her shadow-that would be gift over gifts.

He has her rage in his veins, rage that burns inside like volcano but enters world like blizzard. He has her pride in her bones, sort that is unshakable as mountain and stands like royal creature. he has her cold eyes that reveal no weakness. He has her cruel heart( she was kind, but woe betide those who'd dare attack her. Burning house wasn't only physical assault, just greatest, just one that harmed her. there were others, but she fought and broke quite few bones and egos) and her ruthless pragmatism.

If miracle happened, and he died for third time, he thought of reincarnating in India. Always loved that country. Still, maybe this time he will go for some family with blonde hair. All his three reincarnations looked same, and he doubted that he could reincarnate again in Asakura family ( itako's genes would be dominant ones, due to her sheer willpower, he knew that. Yoh stood no chance).

Little change of appearance can't hurt, right?


You can see it all if you look at symbols of family.

Wu Xing pentagram and tree of renewal.

Star and tree.

All elements versus one.

Whole against broken, rearranged piece.

Universe against one small, small piece of land.

They are mighty, but it all comes from him, broken and changed and weakened, and because of that, in the end he shall win.