The Clash of Winds
Chapter 1 (Word=1267)
I have seen many great lakes, vast lands and endless oceans. Soon sights begin to merge into one abstract memory, juxtapose to the mind of man. However, he was different. He was the lakes, lands and oceans. In his boundless depth ran the currents of revenge. A man betrayed by his nation, by his friends, and his very family.
I remember the first time I met him. He gave me a deadly stare through the poster. The artist portrayed the youth with wild eyes and a lean build. His features were quite sharp, which gave him a feline look. I guess that was part of his handsomeness. He had a cocky smirk that lingered on the edge of his lips. His hair, shaggy, was without a care in the world. He knew his self-worth, his strength.
He was worth more than the defeat of Noxians heroes. Ionia never thought much of traitors. To me it was quite ironic. The very nation that fought for the belief of peace and leniency, was not forgiving to back-stabbers. Noxus, at the very least, has the decency to just execute them.
It has been twenty or so years since Noxus invaded. The propaganda in Ionia was immense. The sheer volume filled many tomes. That was not the case. I knew differently, Ionia and Demacia portrayed Noxus as a narcissistic nation that believes in its superiority and would stop at nothing to dominate the entire continent. In reality, they were a nation of incredibly desperate people pushed into a war for resources. However, upon seeing their strength and how the war abate the nation's needs they threw themselves into the war with much abandon. Their deaths in wars are what kept that nation alive. Demacia abjured its belief of isolationism and neutrality once it saw Noxus was on the other side of the ring. It would be an understatement to say the nations dislike each other. Nevertheless most battles between the two factions ultimately led to stalemates with abortive results. The struggles between the two nations plunged the whole continent into war. Secret alliances were made. Today's allies could be tomorrow's foe. Uncertainty and distrust ran rabid. Every day, news articles would condemn fellow denizens as heretics. Good and honest men would be vilified by the media. In this madness, he lost the innocence of his childhood but gained everything as a man. This is Yasuo's story.
I have met a myriad of dignitaries and aristocrats throughout the land. However, none of these encounters could ever come close to this chance yet fated meeting. Walking along the edge of a small Ionian village, I made my way across the sand of the south-western coast toward the ancient forest. I had no business there. I should have been making preparations to return home but, I remembered the placidness, the tranquil forest, and serene sky urging me along. The lazy warm air accompanied by a zephyr tickled my cheeks as I glided into the heart of the forest.
The wolves there, were basking in the sunlight that trickled through the gaps of the leafy ceiling. As I passed the pack they retreated into the embrace of their damp frore caves. The alpha males tried to stand tall. Heads growling, but ultimately they ran with their tails tuck between their legs. Even the stationary Krugs seem to stiffen as I passed. I continued until I reached a clearing. Here, the trees parted into that of a giant arch which forming a holy cathedral. The sunlight struck the grassy carpet, which illuminating the morning dew. It shone, giving the impression that the ground was littered with jewels. I proceeded pass the pews of plants to the altar. There he laid. Mere words cannot describe the sight. But if I must endeavor; his eyes full of rancor displayed suspicion from a fresh wound on his back. A stab-wound so fatal it shattered his spine and pierced his heart. The fragments that remained had long been blown away. What lied before me was nothing more than heartless husk. The other hundred of inflictions seemed to pale in comparison. When Yasuo noticed me it became apparent that he was trying to flee. His attempt to stand was comparable to a child's first effort to walk. Laughable. Tottilish, he was finally about to pull himself upright, leaning against a tree. Doing so drained all his strength, his already deadly pale complexion gained a sickly green tint. He turned in my direction releasing his blade from its cage. The blade, like its master was lean, sharp and posed to strike. I took sluggish and deliberate steps towards him. As I drew closer, one thing became apparent. The child in the poster was long gone, but in his place stood a belligerent beast in the form of a man. His body was painted in blood, but not necessary all of his own. He had the look of a cornered animal; he bared his teeth, hissing a deadly warning. He gave me the impression of a cat that was thrown out and trampled on by the owners. However, even the cutest kitten will bare its claws when frightened. As I was mere steps away, he tensed.
"Draw," he croaked. I judged six to seven days that he ran without rest. Seeing how I ignored him the first time, he repeated and said, "Draw," this time in a much more fearsome and commanding tone. Still I did not reply and walked ever closer. Yasuo changed his stance, placing his blade where my neck would be if I continued. That once gentle breeze shifted into a gale. The winds seemed to burst out from every pore of his body. The winds draped around him. It enveloped him like armor would a soldier. Taking one more step toward him would be an impossible task for any normal persons. They would have been swept of their feet in an instant. Dust bellowed outward forming twisters, which danced around me ominously. Breathing became a laboring task even for me. To be honest I was impressed that he could even stand at this point and lets just say I am not easily impressed.
"This is a fine display of dust, if that was your intention," I said just loud enough so he could hear me over the roar of the tempest. I kept walking at my steady pace and when I was a single bound away from him I placed my neck along the edge of his blade. He seemed genuinely surprised. I could see it in his eyes. His mind racing, guessing, speculating what trickery I was about to pull out. I closed in.
"I suggest you don't," I paused. "I have no idea who or what you are running from but, I can assure you, I will completely outclass it...and you by the looks of things." I nudged the pommel of my monster as well. It took a while for my words to register. But when they did, he seemed to awaken from his drunken stupor. He looked down and saw himself for the first time since the elapse of events that transpired. He took a long hard look at his bloody callused hands. As he did so the blade slipped from his hands. The Hands made no attempt to retrieve it. However, they grasped each other as if they were praying. And for split second those cynical eyes gave way to reveal the child that I thought to be dead. In a blink he was gone, into the darkness.