Monday October 15th, 2190 ATE (After Tangent Emmergence). Hokkaido Region of The Kumataiyo Isle's. Also known as, The Ashen Sky Quarter…

Our Dojo was a shitstorm.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Even sooner. Everytime I close my eyes… it's today.

It's today.

I'm there.

I'm here. In the moment. Again.

I'm inside. Bare feet on the mat. Sensei Sutoraipu— Stripes, said it helped us connect to the earth. He said if we could learn to feel for the rumble of the volcanoes, we could sense danger from miles away… anywhere in the world. A figure of speech. The saying sounded better in my native tongue.

Either way.

To Orphans of the Kumataiyo Isle's, that sounded like an endless vein of gold.

Riches money couldn't buy.

A shot at safety.

No that was wrong.

Even at the age of ten, I knew safety was a farce.

A shot at being ready. That was it.

That's what we trained for. To be ready. Feet sensing the world. Gi strapped tight to sweaty skin. Pressed down by armor— train how you fight.

But we were poor. Our armor consisted of thrown out and rusty pots, pans and skillets from the Ramen shop across the street.

A local black smith smelted them down into something formidable.

Dozens of little silver sentinels filled the dojo. The crappy dirty dojo that couldn't even keep out the rain.

Like I said, our Dojo was a shitstorm, but that was perfect.

It was a mirror reflection of reality. A reality we could train in without facing imminent death or drawn out starvation in some foreign hellscape.

A place we could learn to be ready.

"ASSUME YOUR STANCE!" Stripes came into the Dojo like always.

Late. Old. Angry. Hard.

I listened all the same. Just as everyone did. I assumed my stance. Left foot forward, right foot behind and taking place as an extension of my back bone. Holding me up. Holding me strong. My assisting foundation that doubled as my first act of offense. Midsection firm. Wrists and forearms tense but the rest of my arms and shoulders relatively loose and ready to angle my blade accordingly. Face neutral. Eyes taking note of every single threat to my life. Speaking to my blade through visions and observations.

Stripes surveyed the cold and dark room framed by waterlogged wood panels and cracked walls.

The shoji doors he'd thrown open to enter the room remained as such. Lightning struck outside, shaking the island earth and highlighting his hulking frame.

His age was impossible to place as he stalked around the dojo, studying— ogling, each young student. His gi was decades old. Instead of being white and emblazoned with a crest of some recognizable clan, it was browned with age and dirt. The arms were torn off, leaving his veiny muscled limbs bare and wet. The hair slicked to his skin like fur. His pants were tattered and rimmed with red at the bottom like he stomped out rats before arriving. He smelled that way too. Like death.

"SEVEN LAWS OF BUSHIDO!" His voice wasn't deep. It was probably soft once in his life. But now it was assertive. Hard. Strained from frequent yelling.

I along with everyone replied in unison the seven laws of the samurai discipline.

"Righteousness….. Loyalty…. Honor ….. Respect ….Honesty …. Courage …. Consistency!"

Stripes' hand flew up to silence everyone. Even his palms were hairy under the dim lights.

"One of you stuttered. If you can't speak clearly how do you think your blade will cut?"

I watched kids begin to feel the ache of anxiety as he walked around the room, sniffing and eyeballing. His ears even twitched when people coughed…. Like an animal hunting.

"Answer me. How do you think your blade will cut if you can't speak clearly?"

I looked up to find him standing over me.

"Your blade will cut as you think. So here, the blade will cut vaguely… inaccurately… untrue, if you can't present your truths clearly."

Stripes smiled and laid his hands on my arms.

My adrenaline surged. Brought me high into a second plain of life above the clouds and with the lightning that welled. And like the lightning, I charged, awaiting a strike that would shake the world as he pushed and prodded my stance for weakness.

His fingers were as thick as Molten-Serpents.

He was so close to me I could smell the sake on his breath. See each individual strand of his long dirty beard. The reflection of the lights on his greasy long hair.

Seemingly satisfied, Stripes removed his hands from me and spoke again.

"Lastly…?"

"The Laws of Bushido give way to the Birth of the System."

"Follow them, find your power. Be Reborn." Stripes said. "So…. Let's continue. Two thousand single strikes!"

***

Sensei was merciful that day. We didn't have to carry logs or lug molten rocks left in the alleyways up forest hills.

We just had to swing our swords. Keep tempo. Keep pace. Maintain consistency. Two thousand times.

By the end of it sweat caked under my arms and made my gi heavy. My hair— which was so different from my peers clung to my forehead and nearly hid my eyes.

Unfortunately I could still see a few of my classmates lying around the Dojo amidst the ranks of standing exhausted students, bleeding and groaning as Sensei walked over them, disappointment and rage twisted his visage into something animalistic. He gritted his teeth in anger— it made his beard look like it was crawling towards his eyes. He drooled and slobbered as he raged. He was feral.

"Where is your pace! WHERE is it!? You think the Akuma will respect your waning strike speeds when they descend from their homes— the volcanoes? They'll eat you alive at your first misstep! Get the fuck up!"

The first child he stood over hesitated, wiping Sensei's spit from his eye before hobbling to his fee—

Sensei's dirty long nailed foot smashed into his chest, sending him through one of the papery thin walls and out into the rain.

"PACE! I've told you to maintain it repeatedly and what are you doing!? Moving slow. Hesitating. Thinking before you act. The rest of you! GO GET HIM! I hope the Akuma are out there right now. Maybe then you'll learn….. or just shit yourselves."

Quiet laughs spread, erupting from the mouths of the bravest students.

Dumbest is actually what I meant to say.

I watched the other students who'd been knocked down for their lackluster performances explode to their feet and dash off into the night.

The distant staccato of thunder hid the sounds of their jingling armor and whatever lurked in the shadows.

If the Akuma was out there as Sensei wished, they were a more patient hunter than I remember because each child returned just as they came.

Sweaty, afraid, embarrassed. But no worse for wear.

"Now." Sensei took position at the core of their ranks again so everyone could see him, "Time is of the essence. Just as much as training is. None of you have been Reborn…. But I smell it on one of you."

His stomach actually grumbled.

All I could smell was the mold, spreading like a disease along the bamboo and cracked wood support beams.

He sniffed the air, looking around at us all. Looking at me.

"One of you stands on the precipice of power. Power spreads like dominoes fall, boys and girls. It only takes one to start many. And many we'll need. Can someone tell me why?" He looked around.

In the distance a volcano gurgled, spitting flickering orange flares into the dark skies. It lit up the night beyond the walls of the Dojo. It made his eyes glow as he side eyed me, outlined by a backdrop of volcanic evil shading.

Did he know?

"You." He pointed at me.

"In the Ashen Sky Quarter, the density of highly active Volcanoes and Samurai conflict causes soot and ash to function like clouds overhead. We're cut off from daylight and moonlight for weeks at a time without Mage… excuse me, Onmyoji, intervention. We haven't had a Full Moon in two months."

"So…"

I cleared my throat, "So, whatever Shape-Shifters live on this Island haven't acted on their impulses in two months. They're off cycle and more dangerous."

"The Akuma are our worst enemy. But the Shape-Shifters are the enemy we never see coming. Which is more dangerous to us right now? That's up to you all to decide after you grow strong enough to make a dent in either faction. We only get there through blood…"

He shivered at the word. "With that being said, who laughed earlier?"

The students suddenly lost their brazen attitudes before one spoke up, followed by the agreement of others.

"Sensei— it was the Obake-boy. He…. He laughed when you kicked out Akio."

Sensei Stripes laughed and clapped his hands, "Is that true?"

I avoided his eyes, "No, Sensei."

"Then retribution will be on your side as you spar our three failures, hm?"

"Correct."

It would stay on my side for more than that…

I kept that in mind as I readied myself to spar.

***

Obake…

Ghost.

That's what they called me. It's been that way so long I forgot my given name by the men and women at the orphanage I once attended.

I'm just Ghost, now. The fair skinned boy with eyes like thunder clouds. Drifting by. Somehow constantly watching over you. Lifeless. Ominous. Symbol of the storm.

What brand of storm? I didn't know.

For now, something that allowed me a lightning fast victory against my opponents. I couldn't afford a broken finger. I couldn't afford to waste excess energy. Not on this night.

"Bow." Sensei Stripes stood between me and the three of them. Osuke, Akio and Yuki.

We all bowed before rising.

I sized them up briefly. Just as I had before. I knew I'd be thrown to the wolves this time around. When you're the odd one out in an orphanage of all places, you get comfortable there.

Among the wolves. The pack of misfortune. Blame. Resentment. Discomfort. Harassment.

That last one died the day I got a sword. Rest in pieces.

Sensei Stripes backed away, eyes zeroed in on us like the most important fight in history was underway.

Osuke was the largest and oldest with sharp spikey hair and dirty fingers. His size did him no favors. Because of it, his armor was stretched to fit his long midsection and broad shoulders. Thin. Breakable. He wasn't quick on his feet enough to make do with his circumstances.

Akio's openings were shown earlier. Even now I could see it in his green eyes as they glossed over and he chewed on his chapped lips. Fear— Hesitation, held him like lost men and women held Akumoid Weaponry. Tightly— unwillingly, but tightly all the same. Tainted by it. He wouldn't attack first. In fact, I could count him out until Osuke went down.

Yuki was the most dangerous. She wasn't awkwardly tall or wracked with fear. She was small and scrappy. She cut her hair with dirty razor blades so people couldn't get one over on her. She sharpened the nails on her off-hand so even without a sword she could make you bleed. She had a black eye from eating one of Sensei's punches and somehow looked no worse for wear.

She didn't slow. She didn't make a mistake. Sensei wanted her to fight me so I could have some challenge.

"He's trying to force my Rebirth…." I realized. I wondered what class would choose me. What my life's experiences drew me toward. Archers seemed powerful. A thought for another time…

I took up my fighting stance. Like Osuke, I was bigger than most. Only I was one of the youngest. I heard it was thanks to my outlander parent. Luckily I'd grown into my size. I still had my speed and coordination.

The others followed suit. The students formed a ring around us, seated on their knees in silence.

There was no signal to fight or some alarm to wait for. That wasn't how fights happened where they mattered.

It was all up to wh—

Yuki shoved past Osuke and Akio. All four and a half feet of unbridled violence and street toughness came barreling after me.

Her footfalls blended with the rainfall that had only just started.

I leaned into her as she neared and took off. My bare feet dug into the mat and forced it to slide across the wood beneath, mashing the bugs and tearing the mold.

My pace was steady just as Sensei warned.

Yuki held her blade at her hip. Core muscles tight. Ready to shatter her blade against my armored midsection.

She swung. I jumped, vaulting over her completely and putting myself face to face with Osuke.

I saw the panic in his eyes. He focused and mirrored Yuki's attack. Sign of his mind going blank.

As soon as I hit the ground I dropped to my knees, leaning back to dodge the swipe of his blade. It caught on my helmet and ripped it off, sending it flying after Yuki as she stumbled forward.

As I continued to slide, I stretched my arm out and mashed it into Osuke's shin's. His shin-guards cracked and I felt skin give way to bone. He flipped forward with a yelp and fell on his face.

Yuki was already spinning on her heels like a bull, ready to ram me truly this time.

But Akio was in front of me— only just beginning to raise his blade. I was on him like rainwater. Forcing him to commit to the heavy strike.

Then I stepped aside. One other important fact about Akio was he was strong. Too strong sometimes. It made his hesitance interesting. Maybe it was born from some hideous mistake. Either way, I used it to my advantage.

His blade came rushing toward the earth like the smiting of Raijin and struck Yuki.

Her reflexes were good. Their blades clashed sending sparks of light into the dark of the Dojo.

"You dumbass!" Yuki snarled as she faltered under Akio's strength.

"Sorr—"

I hammered a blow into Yuki's jaw. She went down like a sack of potatoes. Immediately after, I turned and slashed open Akio's forearm, beneath his gauntlet.

I caught his blade as he dropped it and front kicked him into the surrounding students.

Yuki stood just as I aimed both my blades at her.

They vibrated in my hands.

I could feel every atom of the swords. Every single stroke of the whetstone each blade endured in its inception. The threaded handle. Every single imperfection. I could see them in my minds eye with perfect clarity.

I looked at my reflection in the blades. My eyes flickered. Glowing a haunting shade of blue one moment before returning back to normal. Something warmer than lava rode the currents of my veins in those moments.

"It's me…. I'm being Reb-….." Through the reflective surface of my swords I could see Sensei Stripes in the background. Behind the students. Eyes slitted and glowing like stray cats in the alleys…. His mouth hung open. Slobber ran like a river over his pronounced canines as he watched me.

No.

I shut my eyes and dropped the swords just as Yuki's fist connected with my face.

I played into the blow— which was in part unnecessary, since she truly did catch me and I hit the mat.

Blood leaked from my face. My lip swelled with a spinning heat.

Stripes snarled.

I kept my eyes closed until the burgeoning power faded.

Like a lightning, I needed to strike once. Without knowing. Without readiness. With a godly level of conviction.

And my targets weren't orphans.

"My target is you…"

I opened my eyes and found Sensei Stripes standing over me.

"Trainings over. All of you get somewhere safe for the night. It's a Full Moon afterall…."