Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to anything in the Soul Calibur franchise. Characters in this fanfiction are owned by Namco, with the exception of my own creations.

Author's Note: Well, the next chapter is up! This time, I decided to write more instead of the usual. I will still continue the first person narrative. If anyone has any comments about this style, please review and tell me. I'd appreciate it very much! Thanks. - Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.

Transcending history and the world,

a tale of souls and swords,

eternally retold..

Soul Calibur

Chronicles of the Soul

Chapter II

The Resolute Avenger

And when one have mastered the secrets of this way,

a flower is nothing particular.

-"Fushikaden," Zeami Motokiyo

The cherry blossoms began to fall from their respective trees, each one touching the ground like raindrops from the sky. These beautiful pink petals felt as if a life is taken from the world as they touched the ground, one by one. He was taken away from me. Taken away from my loving hand forever. He had taught me everything he knew. The teachings of the battou style was handed to me for the sole purpose of carrying on his undying legacy.

I had no family in this world. By the time I knew I was alone, I knew I had no one by my side. I was taken to an orphanage and spent a couple of my childhood years there. However, the people often shunned me away from them. I was different from the rest. Looking at the other children around me, I noticed that I was much lighter than them and as I looked at the mirror, I could see that my eyes were a the shade of deep blue. Now I knew.

Eventually, my heart began to close up around me. I didn't care for anyone, none at all. With all the violence and hateful words thrown at me, my loneliness and despair began to grow from the abyss of my heart. I couldn't take it any longer. My suffering would grow and grow unless I did something about it. Eventually, I ran away from the orphanage. I escaped all that torment but thinking to myself, I knew it was a mistake. Where would I go now?

I wandered to cities beyond the lands, looking for shelter to cover myself from the harsh winds of the world. No one took me in. As I thought to myself, my sadness began to grow once more. I was having second thoughts about leaving the orphanage, but what was I to do? I began to ponder my death. A sad and lonely death. I didn't care anymore. Dying would surely relieve me of my pain.

But on that one fateful day, a middle-aged man found me sleeping on the ground, pieces of disgusting garbage and paper on top of me. I didn't know what went through his mind that day. As I woke up, I found myself in a small room, on a small comfy bed wrapped tightly within the embrace of a warm blanket. Where was I? I remembered asking myself. Then my eyes wandered to the door, a shadow figure appeared behind the oil-paper entrance. I hid under the blanket, not knowing who it was. I was terrified. Was he going to kill me?

And as I looked up, I saw a man with a tray of food in-front of me. He had a smile that I had never seen before. It was a heartwarming smile that assured me he was a good person with a kind heart. That's when I knew that I could trust him. Surely enough, he took me in and asked me my name. At that time, I had no name. And so, he gave me the name Setsuka, which meant snow flower. My heart began to untangle the ropes that binded it for such a long time. Finally, I had a place to call home. A person to call family.

He was a bodyguard for the region and was formidable warrior. He used the battou technique, the art of fighting from the draw. It was visually stunning to see him practice everyday. His sword flashed like lightning and the whole style was graceful. I became fond of the style and watched him practice everytime he had the chance. Eventually, he began teaching me the way of the battou and I devoted myself to the training.

One day, he entrusted me a letter. A letter I was to deliver to a martial artist far away. I accepted the favor and took on this journey. I've always wondered if he was testing me by sending me on that long journey. Towards the end of it, it had taken me a couple of months to reach the destination. I finally reached the martial artist. He was an old hermit living in the mountains. He told me he trains himself to become the best in the world. He then offered me a chance to train with him but I politely refused. I had someone at home to get back to.

And so, I continued my long journey once again back home. Upon my return, my eyes couldn't believe what I was seeing in-front of me. My master was lying on the floor, his arm bleeding profusely. I bandaged him up and took it upon myself to take care of him until his arm recovered. I tried asking him how he received those wounds but he always found a way to drag off into a different subject. From that point on, he would never wield a sword again.

However, even if training for him was over, he devoted himself to training me. The training became much more serious, always scolding me on what I was doing wrong. He was longing to perfect the battou style but now he couldn't. He only had me to do it for him. At times, I felt like crying but he was there to comfort me. Finally, I knew what love felt like.

We could never afford anything expensive and I respected that. But he really wanted to give me something I've always wanted ever since he took me in. He had bought me a beautiful long-sleeved kimono with a heart motif. It was then I finally had the chance to wear the beautiful dress I had been longing for. I was deeply in gratitude and knew that he loved me in every single way. My feelings for him began to change. My heart began to open up to him. I was falling in-love.

I loved him as a father. I loved him as my master. But this new love I felt was for the one that took me in with his heart and cared for me all this time. But when my true affections emerged from the depths of my heart, he passed away. But before his death, he told me to live a free life away from hatred or fear. He told me that one who lives by the sword harbors no regret. Then he mentioned his name. The man that had beat him in the duel that cost him his arm, his life as a warrior.

"I did not teach you this art for the purpose of revenge." he said to me, "Live on and carry the legacy of the battou."

My tears were not enough to caress my heart from the sorrow and pain I felt that day. I lost the one person who I called family. Who I called master. Who I finally called lover. But it was too late. He was gone. And I must heal my heart the only way I can. I'm sorry master, this will be the only time I must break your promise.

Heishiro Mitsurugi, I long for your death. Some say revenge is sweet. But to me, it's a resolution I must accomplish. Prepare yourself. The resolute avenger has started the hunt..