His own blood, his own brother, lying lifeless, bathed by moon light. Monster. Soiled hands, forever. No redemption. Unforgiven.

First, he didn't notice, too shocked. Then a sudden pain, like all his body was burning from the inside. He fell to his knees, nausea and pain mixing. Hands clasped over his heart. It was pounding so fast, he thought he was dying. Too much pain, too much blood. All he could feel was pain, bones on fire. Hands now clutched, white knuckles in the crimson grass. He tried to resist. Then it became unbearable, a scream pierced through him then he collapsed, unconcious.

He didn't remember much, he just ran. Ran like he could flee from the curse. Too late, it's in my veins.

And he kept running, searching for a place where he would be at peace but it didn't exist.

The worst was the call. A dark hunger coiling in his chest, increasing as time passed. At first, he didn't know how to stop it, no food or water could. And it drove him nearly to the point of madness.

When he came to his senses, he found himself clutching at a warm body, limp in his arms, teeth – no, fangs- puncturing the flesh of the neck and savoring the warm blood like ambrosia.

He pushed away the body, watching it fall on the ground like a puppet. He was seized with horror at the sight and with disgust for his act. Another life taken by his 'hand'. And he craved for it, against his will. It felt so good but wrong. He needed it, thirst deeply rooted in his being.

In panick, he abandoned the corpse, though there was still blood to take. He ran, again, steps heavy with guilt.

A mask to hide himself, this monstruous thing. Fraticide. Hide the disgrace. Hide at all cost. Ice blue eyes, like staring at your soul. Hair as red as the blood he shed. Creature. Sword now stained, it won't go away. He lost track of time, sometimes an hour felt as long as a day.

Where am I ? Still in Ionia, I guess.

The landscape was familiar yet he was sure that he never came here.

How much time since... ?

Months, maybe a year. Or two. Or three. His wandering only marked by the several drained bodies he left, a macabre trail.

And oh, it haunted him so much, each life taken for him to survive. He always tried to make it quick, to prevent his infortunate victims from suffering. But the insidious hunger was still here, only sated for a little time then it would come back and whisper dark ideas in his ear. More...But will it ever be enough ?

His few pursuers were the only one that didn't gave him regrets when he had to kill them, after all, they were hunting their own death.

And here he was, lost in the country he protected. His steps brought him to a village. Or what is left of it. No one seemed to live here for a while, old houses barely standing, just ruins. The ronin continued, looking for any sign of a living person. At the same time, he hoped finding no presence here but the ache deep inside urged him to sate his thirst. If someone is here, he is dead. He felt guilty in anticipation.

Something caught his attention, a flash of steel in the corner of his vision and all he could do was to draw his sword as protection. The clash resonated in the village and through his body, powerful. No wonder what would have happened if he didn't saw it coming. But right now, Yasuo stared, at the man and the blade that intended to cut him, so shocked that he forgot the hunger.

Said man was dressed simply, the typical clothing of an ionian but his strong grip on his sword, the strenght he displayed while he tried to break the intruder's defense proved that he was a fighter, the same kind than him.

His eyes...

Memories came back, distant, like it belonged to someone else. The same green eyes, staring back at him without faltering. Fierce. Then the gaze widened in recognition and he lowered his sword, scrutinizing him.

« Take off your mask » it was an command, clear voice heard a long time ago, and the ronin complied, too confused to refuse.

It still hurt to reveal his face, even to a man he already met. Disgrace, it whispered in his head.

« I wasn't mistaken... It's you. The samurai during the war, isn't it ? »

He was there too. Master Yi.

The other swordman took a few steps, reducing the distance between them with a quizzical look.

« What happened to you ? »