Rurouni Kenshin: Djinn Moon
12th year of the Meiji
Location: Unknown
The sun had long since disappeared over the horizon, bathing the beautiful forest clearing in obscurity. The stars began to form within the endless sky, officially marking nightfall on this particular side of the globe. Within the skies, shining its beautiful angelic luminance was a full moon. The forest seemed to sparkle within the moons light, as the wind blew its everlasting, unknown course. The forest suddenly came to life, Owls awakened, beginning the long hunts for edibles, the kind which ran on all fours. Wild Elk began their silent trots through the woods; Squirrels hid and slept snuggly within there deeply dug domiciles, secure and resonant from the dangers of above. Several other creatures began their nightly duties, duties not taught by ones progenitor, duties which were inbred into their minds from birth. They went about their duties uncaring, completely ignorant to the darkness, which swept through. A darkness darker that the darkest dark, a living shadow of power, overflowing with violent crimson light. No, these creatures have seen many wonders, and were no longer afraid, for within the forest clearing lived a potter, a silent wandering potter who went to and fro, yet always returned. They have seen his incredible dance by the waterfalls, with the sharp stick that he carries within his long white fur. They have seen his battles, and witnessed the crimson liquids, which have unleashed themselves into their forest from his hands. So no, the demonic shadow did not startle them from there nightly rituals.
A trail of chaos was left in its wake, as it floated negligently across the earth, leaving a charred trail as it went upon its abstract journey.
Above, the ever-constant moon began to reverberate a hideous moan, as the man in the moon suddenly came to being. It began to twist, and intertwine upon itself like a magnificent moving painting, it rose, and fell, twisted, turned. As if Leonardo Da Vinci was working his exquisite magic, the moon his palette. The moons angelic light dimmed, as though a sheet were being placed over it too subdue the luminous light from bothering the sensitive eye. A dark radiance was slowly being replaced, as the pictures in the moon began to alternate gradually into restless spirits, ceaselessly floating in their endless struggle to escape the pits of Hades. The angelic luminescence faded away completely, the moon was nothing more than a deep shape of darkness, outlined within the sky, the spirits, nothing more than disturbingly noticeable grayish haunting figures to the eyes, whom flowed perpetually through the moon. Faintly, cries could be heard, disturbing cries of the spirits, spirits of this hellish moon.
***
Seijurou Hiko sat silently, his eyes shut in thought, a small cup of Sake in his right hand. Before him, a fire burned, sending a trail of smoke into the air. At his side lay the white, red trimmed over coat/cape, which marked him as the successor of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. He sat aphasic, letting his long black bangs hang over his handsome face, a blue Gi, opened down the front revealing his muscular chest, short sleeves where he let his defined swordsman arms rest upon his lap. The cup of Sake held to his lips, yet he took no sip.
The forest was washed in darkness, save that of the clearing; the fire provided all the light this swordsman needed. The fire provided everything a man ever needed; it was light, light that ruled over the darkness. Light/ Dark, yin and yang, Fire/Shadow, This man knew it all too well, for his master before him spoke to him of this day, and his before he, and so on. The day when the darkness would began its revolt against the light, when the darkness would prove that it is the superior. For in darkness, death can be silent, swift, uncaring. In light, death was public, there was no hiding, no escape, and the light was a hindrance. Though the darkness, the shadow, you could be free, you could commit acts in seclusion, you could make love with a eloquently horrid faced woman/man, without looking upon the deformities. The light hindered this, the light was a nuisance, darkness was obsolete, and the day had come once again, for the darkness to prove its worth.
An arrogant smirk formed upon his thin lips, his eyes suddenly opened, maple pools peered towards the sky, towards the full moon.
"I see… well it had too happen sometime, heh, never thought I'd live to see the day." He grinned and took a sip of Sake, never letting his eyes waver from the moon," The Djinn Moon of the Sengoku era has arisen, I never actually thought I'd see the day, and they call me egotistical."
Hiko stood, a towering man over many, the long black ponytail fell down his back as he gulped the remaining drops of sake, and let his left hand brush over the hilt of his Nihontou.
"Well my Stupid Apprentice, it had too happen sometime, I knew one day that Sakabatou-Shinuchi of yours would become utterly useless." Hiko's face became hard, expressionless as he spoke, yet he spoke merely too air," I knew one day your vow would be put too the ultimate test, a test you shall lose, a test which shall turn your life around utterly. And I apologize my young ward, for I told you that this day would pass your time and those you care for, I guess even I, 13thSeijurou Hiko of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu can be wrong, for once…"
Hiko stood silently, his hand still brushing lightly against the hilt of his blade; he stood silent, as if awaiting something, someone… He could sense the presence, and a shiver ran down his spine.
"Perhaps old friend…" the voice was deep, void of emotion, void of anything," perhaps so…" A shadowed presence lingered, floating on air, pulsating with hellish light. The darkness seemed to engulf his very being, obscuring his features within the Djinn moons light. He floated haphazardly, like a wraith, shadowed locks waved violently within the harsh winds. Where his right hand would be, replaced was a dark structure, emanating in fiendish energy, a crimson opaque eye peered out from the structure, it rolled around within, blinking on and off.
Hiko smiled, kneeling to receive a small pot, he poured a cup of Sake, and drank it silently. The voice had emerged from his flank, and he knew the voice all too well. Hiko was afraid of nothing, never has been, never will, but it was always a mere ploy, hiding the true fear that bathed his heart. A fear, which haunted his dreams for the past 33 years, nightmares that wouldn't go away. Everyday for 33 years he has awoken in cold sweats, but his training, and stout mind have allowed him to keep his sanity all these years, hiding behind the guise of a sarcastic, arrogant potter. Now his nightmares have caught up with him, and there was no waking up. No more cold sweats, no more escapes into the sunlight. He knew that his skills were nothing compared to this dark nightmare, but within he knew that there was always a light to dark. Soon that light would emerge, and drive the darkness back into the pit of hell where it belonged.
"You know he will come…" Hiko spoke with the determination of his lineage, of the 12 Seijuurou Hiko's before him," he fears you not, and holds far greater power than you shall ever wield, the power of mind, the power of focus, the power of self… It's a pity I wont be there when he rips you a new one." Hiko grinned, his speed quickened, his hand seemed to materialize upon the hilt of his blade. He was air born in under a second; the grin had not wavered from his face.
"A pity indeed." The darkness merely lingered as the 13thmaster of Hiten Mitsurugi leaped forward with his sword drawn. His body became a blur, utterly imperceptible to the human eye.
~Hiten Mitsurugi Style- Amakakeruryunohirameki~
A flash of violent white light, clashed through darkness, igniting the entire forest in a display of heavenly demonic fire, the speed was undetectable, godlike. In what seemed like a fraction of a second, it was all over.
Hiko knelt, his blade sheathed, an arrogant grin across his face, his black locks plastered too his sweating face. Thoughts filled his head, as if in rewind, than fast forward, the time he trained young Himura Shinta, how he felt when the 14 year old ventured off on his own, the hidden joy in his heart when he returned years later, pleading to learn the final secrets. He would have made a fine Seijuurou.
"I want him to come… now rest young Niitsu Kakunoshin, go into the eternal light of hell, and rest… and wait… for you shall have a great deal of company." The Darkness imploded upon itself, and dispersed into nothingness; the ground in which it dwelled was burnt and rotten, red smoke arose in demonic skeletal forms, fading into the air.
Hiko held the wavering grin upon his handsome features, and for the first time in many years, tears leaked from the maple pools of his eyes. As darkness began to overtake him, his knees weakened.
"I… am sorry… Kenshin…" Blood pooled from his lips as he spoke his final peace," Let it be known… I… Niitsu Kakunoshin… 13th Hiko Seijuurou… loved you… I thought of you… as a son…" His eyes widened, and he violently arched back, as if lifted by an invisible force, crimson shot from his body, like a geyser of sanguine fluids. He landed harshly upon the earth, and lay motionless. Blood pooled around his silent body, his eyes lie open, as if dead to the world.
Suddenly a squirrel walked slowly towards the motionless figure, he peeped over a rock, and then scurried closer. Each time he hid behind a rock, or some other obscurity that would hide him. When he saw that it was safe, he scurried forward, perching himself upon the motionless chest of the man he knew as a friend. He nibbled at his motionless lips, and pulled at his stiff cold hands. Its eyes watered, and it let out a barely noticeable shriek through the forest. A minute or two passed, before assorted creatures of the wood emerged. Rabbits, birds, bears, deer, and many others emerged from within the wood, and made their way towards their sleeping friend. They knew something was wrong, yet couldn't comprehend, they knew only that they should watch over their friend until he awakened, and that they would.
***
Location: Sin
The night air was engulfed by a howling modulation, a reverberating sound of anger inching on the border of insanity. The howl seemed too suspend the night, bathing the cursed swamped grounds in a blanket of ice. All creatures refrained from there normal discourse of activity, exiting towards refuge from the atrocious aroma of death in the air. Another howl punctured the skies, ostensibly strengthening the winds resolve. The skies began to darken in a grotesque luminance of black, pulses of white light ignited the clouds, then came thunder; revolving through the skies, creating the sounds of a thousand stampeding steeds,... The howl still pierced the night, utterly in unison with the ongoing storm. Once the rain began too descend, in ample, hail like chunks, the howling ceased.
The storm raged on...
***
A full moon...
Black, grotesque, and horrifying in its darkness, crimson veins seemed to pulsate within the black moon. A moon in which shadows of the past crawled and scurried, a moon which would haunt many night to come.
A Djinn Moon..
A violent storm in the middle of a secluded Swamped island forest...
Morning changed to afternoon, afternoon changed to night, yet they searched on. The possibility of anyone escaping the damned swamped grounds were inconceivable. No mere human has ever made it too the swamped domains of the Guilty Swamp, simple cover for the true hell which floated miles above, a netherworld prison for the soulless scum of Gaia. A monolithic black skyscraper of cursed steel walls and diseased stone stairways, spiraling through the darkness which seemed to engulf its entirety. Black knights riding upon demonic winged steeds made there immortal rounds, lifeless slaves of the power that was Sin. There were fewer knights now, for an event occurred which was sure too stain the reputation and mystery that was Sin. A first in the history books... An escape.
No mere human had ever escaped Sin, like marrow from bone, their souls were sucked dry, their conscious-less idle bodies left too rot and fester in the eternal dark. Yet could you call a man whom spent a year within Sin, within the darkness, a man whom destroyed a plethora of black knight soldiers, stole a flying black steed, and fled to the dank sanctuary of Guilty Swamp,... Could you truly call him human?
The howl touched the souls of the Guilty Swamps patrolmen, mortal men. Chosen from their soiled backgrounds and demented, uncaring, soulless personalities. These were men whom would torture their own mothers to death if given the right price, fearless men whom feared death not. Perhaps their outlook on life was changing at this very moment; the man... beast whom escaped the unescapable Sin prison, a man given a lupin title for reasons obvious too their ears, was in the swamped forest... a domain, a sanctuary that he was all too familiar with.
Adorn in steel silver armor, grayed due too denile, age and decay, hard leather boots drenched in swamp water. Crimson tattoos of loyalty to Sin, burning brands of slavery, burned into their left arms. They trekked through the thick swamp, slowly, the swamp waters seemed to consume there boots, pulling down with each step. The hard chunks of rain did nothing too help there decent into the forest dark domicile, at one time the guards thought they were the masters of this territory. They were wrong, for the Wolf and taken over, this was his forest now, his sacred ground.
And they were trespassing...
"Thought I heard something over there..." The nervousness, perchance a mask of fear escaped the words of the patrolman with blue eyes. He carried a crossbow, the arrow was doused in Baal, a deadly poison which did not give you the pleasure of death, but invaded and took refuge in your body, releasing toxins of pain and torture which would eventually lead too suicide.
"Well then check it out you big puss, damn dude couldn't have gotten far, those chains weigh a frikkin ton." The big bald patrolman with the serpent tattoo on his neck spoke, scratching his head with the massive machete at his disposal.
Another howl... Close...
They soldiers became silent, another soldier, sporting a goatee and decayed teeth spotted a small light several feet away. No, not a light, its was a small infinitesimal circular orb, which seemed to dilate wider, then back again, a silverish orb, an eye. Suddenly it was gone...
The other soldiers began their decent into the forest once again, but the rotten mouthed soldier chose too investigate the orb of light. He moved with steady, cautious grace, his hand fondling the hilt of his blade. The walk to the area was a fight all its own, the thickness of the swamped, coupled with the blinding storm, hindered his decent. The area showed no sign of light, he relaxed and chuckled, he seriously thought he caught the Wolf in a trap, apparently it was not so. He turned to catch up with the other soldiers, the last thing he saw was the massive chain bursting from the swamp, it crushed, and took his head off all in the same motion, under a second. A massive mound of swamp seemed to come too life, pale grayish skin shown forth for a split second, a hand burst forth from the swamp, strong, scarred, grayish, it grabbed the beheaded soldiers body; then jerked it under with immense strength. The mound of swamp began to move, resembling a gopher traveling through soft soil.
Elsewhere..., but close, the remaining three soldiers followed what they assumed was hunter instinct, little did they know, or maybe they were too arrogant to admit, they were the hunted. The trek through the swamp didn't get any easier, and with the rain blinding their path, they were (though they would never admit, and never have the chance to had they wanted) skeptical too their own hunting talents.
"THERE" The big bald serpent necked soldier screamed, tightening the grip on his machete. His eyes widened, and had it not been for the rain, he would surely be showing the signs of a fearful sweat. The other two soldiers stopped their decent and looked ahead, their hearts stopped in their chest. Though the rain obscured the sight before them, they could clearly make out the silhouette. He stood over a broken, decapitated body, hungrily tearing at the flesh which was now naked of armor, tearing into it like a deranged beast. If the soldiers had been able too see in the night, they would have spotted the perk of the massive beast-like mans ears. The way he, in strange, animal like grace, turned his head their way.
A flash of lightning...
It was a man... or was it, from his mouth dripped the flesh of their companion, whom he held by the shoulders like a rag-doll. His body, his grayish strong body, built like a lion, immersed with strange scars. Long dirty ashen hair, reaching the small of his back, lay matted over his body, over his blood covered face. One dilating wolf-like gray eye, stared from the eft side of his face. No light shown from the right, only a faint crimson symbol seemed to float unthinking. The soldiers were frozen in place by this event, their hearts were amp to jump from their chest at the way the man, the wolf's, head shot towards the sky and let loose a blindingly horrible howl. Then he was gone, leaving the corpse, which began to sink under the swamp with each hammer of the rain.
"Tha... hell..." The big bald one was the first too speak, his voice shaky, and silenced too his companions by the thundering.
The soldier at flank became a fidgeting mess, as the chain burst from behind, over his head, and jerked back with beastly speed, literally splitting him in two through the waist.
The big bald soldier turned towards his remaining companion, the last thing he remembered from this life was a the massive swamp covered silhouette towering over his unexpecting comrade, then their was a quick gush of pain, then nothingness, as a scarred hand covered his companions head, and brought it into his. Crushing their heads in a display that was certainly not romantic.
The Gray Wolf stood, naked, dirty, wet. His left eye, a glowing silver like orb now, deep gray hair covered the massive scar that was once his right eye. The scar set out from his forehead, ending below his neck, where another long scar completely encircled. The scar was nearly 2 inches in width, an eerie red symbol hung were once the eye was bore. His head looked to the skies above, as mud and swamp crept down his massive body.
"The Djinn Moon... so it begins..."
The Gray Wolf vanished in a conflagration of shadow.