CHAPTER ONE:

He took one last swig of sake before setting the bottle down on the table. He then took a deep breath and squinted as though focusing very intensely, then raised his hand in front of the bottle.

Nothing.

He squinted harder, his eyes now nearly closed. His muscles tensed as though he were trying to utilize every ounce of strength he had on this task.

Still nothing.

He tensed harder and harder, growing rather exhausted. "Come on…" he irritably mumbled through gnashed teeth. He slowly opened his now very tightly closed eyes.

It was finally working. The bottle had now begun to slightly levitate above the table.

"Yes…yes…" he whispered, relieved. He moved his raised hand up higher. "Now, just move up a little more…"

The bottle began to float a bit higher, but then abruptly fell as though gravity had suddenly kicked in once again. It broke apart and sent shards of glass all over the table and floor, along with sake spilling out everywhere.

"No!" he exclaimed in despair, "Not again!"

His despair was swiftly replaced by rage. "Why, why, WHY am I still not powerful enough after all these years!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, leaning over and furiously pounding his fist on the table.

"Master Fukinkou!" a voice called out. "Is something wrong?"

Fukinkou turned towards the sound of the voice. Two human-like spirits were standing on the other side of the room. One had long white hair, green eyes and a white kimono, the other had long black hair, amber eyes and a black kimono. Since they had no true gender, their appearance (especially their facial features) could best be described as a mixture of male and female.

"Yes, something is wrong!" he shouted, angrily pointing to the mess that the broken sake bottle had made.

"Your powers have proved to be weak once again?" asked Shiroimi, the spirit in the white kimono.

"Yes!" Fukinkou exclaimed. "I grow tired of it! Even with you and the Hellhounds on my side, I am still a weak sorcerer!"

"Why not go find some more spirits to assist you, Master Fukinkou?" said Kuroimi, the spirit in the black kimono. "We are not particularly powerful ourselves as far as spirits go, and even though the Hellhounds are a force to be reckoned with, there are far more powerful spirits out there."

"I've tried that! Many times!" Fukinkou roared. "The powerful spirits want nothing to do with me because I'm weak! You two only agreed to join me because you were desperate, and the Hellhounds are little more than mindless killing machines who could care less!"

He turned away from his helpers, still fuming. He glanced over at the broken bottle again, pure evidence of his failed telekinesis attempt and his weakness as a sorcerer in general. He thought back to his visit to Yuko Ichihara's wish-granting shop five years earlier. Thanks to her, he was both immortal and on a par with (some) spirits and supernatural creatures, but lately he felt it was not enough for him. His blood boiled with rampant desire for more. More power. More spirits on his side. More intimidating to any foes. More unstoppable. More.

The problem was getting more.

Why did it always have to be so challenging?

But on this particular night, maybe it wouldn't have to be. As he stood there nearly overwhelmed by his powerful desires, an idea struck him like a fantastic jolt of electricity.

He turned to his two helpers. "Why don't you two go out and seek out some more powerful spirits for me?" he said. "Maybe they'll be a little more accepting of you than they would me."

"Perhaps," said Shiroimi, "Though keep in mind we are only marginally more powerful than you, Master Fukinkou."

"And what if they still refuse because they know you're weak?" added Kuroimi.

Fukinkou's idea had calmed his frustration just moments before, and now the words of his helpers had stirred up his fury again.

"Don't bother me with your talk of the little details!" he shouted, "Just get out there and find more spirits!" He wrathfully pointed towards the door to emphasize his point.

"Very well then," said Shiroimi, sounding somewhat unwilling.

"We will try our best," said Kuroimi with a nod. And with that they both turned and began to exit.

Fukinkou walked over to the lavish armchair nearby and sat down, a satisfied and optimistic grin on his face.