'I didn't want to talk to anyone in a friendly way. Since everything happened, I'm forcing myself to not get too attached to anyone. But here I am talking to the sad puppet thing…whatever the hell it is. Why? Am I a hypocrite to myself? I was so used to not being so lonely, that once everything happened, I felt lonely. Is that why I decided to talk to everyone? To fill that void of loneliness? When I told myself I wouldn't get attached? This is just talking to these people, just talking. If I'm gonna fight with them, I need to know about them. Since this is the first group to not try and kill me since hell broke loose.'
Kenshiro sat quietly across from the wooden puppet who introduced itself with a melancholic droop in its carved features. "My name is Nori," the puppet intoned sadly, "Would you like to join me and my family for dinner?" It gestured towards a small, crudely made table surrounded by other wooden puppets.
Kenshiro's gaze swept over the group. The figures were situated as if frozen mid-meal, perched around wooden plates filled with meticulously carved mock food. "Those are puppets," Kenshiro stated, an edge of bewilderment tinting his voice.
Nori's carved eyes, though static, seemed to flicker with a semblance of sorrow. "To the world, perhaps, but to me, they are very much alive. This is how I keep them around," the puppet explained. "The rot took them from me physically, but here, in this form, they remain."
Kenshiro's eyes narrowed as he processed the eerie tableau. "But they aren't real," he insisted, his voice firm yet not unkind.
Nori seemed to sag, if such a thing were possible for wood. "It's the only way I can see them again. Out there, there's no cure for the rot, no hope of return. Here, I've trapped their essence, in a world where the decay can't reach, but also where they cannot leave."
"What's that mean?" Kenshiro asked.
Pausing, the puppet's shoulders hunched slightly. "Hope," it began again, its tone dipping into deeper despair, "is a dangerous thing. In these times, what is it but a breeding ground for disappointment? There's no true hope, only temporary solace from the inevitable."
Kenshiro sat in silence, unsure of how to navigate such depth of despair.
'He's right. Hope is lost here. But..'
At that moment, Nori pushed forward a piece of worn parchment and an ink-dipped feather. "Would you draw those who are close to you?" it asked. "I can recreate them, keep them at your table, preserve them from the rot. It will take time, but I can give you this comfort."
'I don't need it. Hell no. Why would I take it? What do I look like playing with wooden dolls? Why would I want to be reminded of everyone in my village?'
Reluctantly, Kenshiro took up the quill and began to sketch, the scratch of the feather against paper filling the somber silence. Methodically, he drew the faces of his companions taking shape under his hand.
'I took it. I'm contradicting myself every second. Am I really looking for a coping mechanism subconsciously? And I don't even know it? I'm feeding the emptiness inside, even though hope does not exist…only redemption in my eyes.'
Nori continued with a sad tone, "This should be an ongoing activity for you and me, right?"
"Eh…"
"It's okay..you don't have to if you don't want to. I feel that as a warrior, you should at least be able to fill in the emptiness that clouds you."
"Tch. I'm fine."
'I'm not fine.'
Just as he finished, the soft sound of footsteps approached. Mei appeared at the doorway, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "Kenshiro," she called softly, her presence a stark contrast to the heavy, suffocating air of the room filled with wooden simulacra.
Kenshiro laid down the quill, looking from the sketches back to Nori, then up at Mei.
Nori said to Mei, "Mei..h-how are you doing today?"
"Fine. You?"
"I'm working…nothing too crazy I guess."
"I can come in later and help you make more things if you want."
"That'll be great..thank you Mei."
As Kenshiro turned to follow Mei, something pulled at his heart, urging him to understand more of the tragic puppet keeper's plight. He paused, casting a glance back at Nori, who seemed even more desolate under the dim cave light.
"How…" Kenshiro said.
Nori replied, "How what?"
"….How did this happen to you?" Kenshiro asked, his voice resonating with curiosity.
'Why am I asking him this..? I don't care.'
Nori's wooden form creaked slightly as it adjusted to face Kenshiro more directly. The sadness in its drawn on eyes deepened, becoming almost tangible in the still air of the cave.
"When the rot began to spread," Nori began slowly, his voice like the distant rumble of earth, "I took drastic measures to save myself. You see, I was a craftsman, once beloved for making toys and carvings for children. I decided to encase my own soul within the wood that I used to carve those very toys, believing it would shield me from the corruption. My body, susceptible to the disease, was left behind. But by then, it was too late for my family and my village. The rot had claimed them."
He paused, sorrow palpable in each syllable. "In desperation, I devised a way to preserve their essence. I used a unique technique, a Battle Art I've developed called Tamashī no Keishō (Soul Inheritance). This technique allows me to transfer souls into models or objects that echo any semblance of life—akin to these puppets."
Nori gestured weakly towards the wooden figures surrounding the table. "I transferred their souls into these carvings, hoping to keep the rot from devouring their essence too. My plan was to find a cure, one day, and restore them to their bodies, free from disease."
"The technique, though powerful, has a grave cost," Nori's voice dropped to a whisper, burdened with unbearable regret. "Each day, the souls wither slightly. They decay, gradually losing their strength and vitality. If not transferred back into their original bodies—bodies that are clean and free from the rot—they will eventually decompose completely and be lost to the ether."
Nori looked down, the weight of his choices bearing down upon his wooden shoulders. "Every day I search, hoping for salvation, a cure, clinging to a sliver of hope that perhaps I might reverse this tragedy. But every sunrise brings with it the painful reminder of my failure, the lingering fear that I might be forever too late."
Kenshiro listened. What he saw in Nori was not just a figure of despair but a symbol of love so fierce it defied the natural cycle of life and death, albeit caught in a tragic dance with fate.
'So that means…Nori will die soon.'
Kenshiro clenched his fists, but then stopped himself.
'Am I taking all of this for granted..? Forcing myself to not care about people because I'm scared something bad will happen to them? How selfish can I get? Can anyone blame me? My village believed violence brought in violence, so they never trained with weapons of fighting. But I did because I wanted to be the one to protect them all, I didn't want them to die. I still blame myself for what happened, and that right there..is what's causing me to try not to care about people or they're backstory. I was surrounded by so much positivity, I was positive, I can't just change. No matter what happened. I feel darkness within me, a dark rage, I fight against it every time I have fought so far. It's hard. But what if it's true? What if I start to care about everyone and then they die…? Like the people in my village, am I protecting the ones that deserve it? My father was the one who always told me to be strong for the weak, but never mentioned violence. I chose violence on my own. That's..that's just who the hell I am.'
Nori then said, "I don't look it..but I'm strong. If you need my help in combat, don't be afraid to invite me."
Kenshiro nodded, "Yeah, I won't forget."
As Kenshiro followed Mei away from the somber puppet chamber, he was shaken from his reflections by her sudden, peculiar question. "Do you… like big holes or small holes?"
Startled, Kenshiro faltered, his eyes widening. "W-What?! W-What are you talking about—?"
'What the hell kind of question is that-?! Asking me, do I like big holes or small holes?!' Kenshiro thought as he was flustered.
Without clarifying, Mei murmured something under her breath, a phrase that sounded, "Battle Art: Flower Petal." Before Kenshiro could process the words, Mei pulled a long scythe from her chest. The weapon, enshrouded in a reddish-yellow aura, seemed to materialize seamlessly, adorned with roses and dandelions that fluttered to the ground, untouched by the darkness of the cave.
"A Battle Art…" Kenshiro said in curious awe.
With deliberate grace, Mei tapped the cave wall with the butt of her floral-covered scythe. In an instant, the wall exploded outward, leaving a large, gaping hole. Dust settled around them as Mei turned, a small smile playing at her lips. "I made you a room."
Kenshiro, still reeling from the sudden display of power and the transformation of the cave wall, managed only a hesitant, "Thanks."
'She made me a room…'
Mei stepped into the new space, her movements as fluid as the flowers adorning her weapon. "Nori will create some furnishings for you," she explained, her voice echoing softly in the hollowed-out room. She then pulled out a single dandelion.
Kenshiro watched as the fragile yellow flower twirled between her fingers. "The flower will die if it's not rooted or in water," he remarked, the practical side of him surfacing despite the mysticism surrounding them.
'It's that same dandelion from earlier..'
"The flower has always been out of its roots," Mei replied, her gaze fixed on the delicate bloom. She extended her hand, offering the dandelion to Kenshiro. "I ask that you watch over it and protect it while you go out to hunt the Nine Tail Chimera Fox."
"Always been out of its roots? Is it magic?"
"I don't know. But we'll know once it finally does rain."
Hesitation flickered across Kenshiro's features. His path was one of vengeance, his sights set on confronting Takeda, and this request seemed a fragile burden. Yet, as he looked into Mei's earnest eyes, something compelled him to accept. Grudgingly, he took the dandelion, its petals trembling slightly in his robust grip.
'Fuck. '
Mei placed a gentle hand on Kenshiro's chest, her touch light yet imbued with meaning. "Thank you," she said softly, her eyes holding his for a moment longer before she turned and walked away, her figure gradually swallowed by the shadows of the cave.
"Mei." He called out.
Mei stopped, not turning around.
Kenshiro continued, "What does the rain mean to you? How come you've never been in it? Why do you care if I've ever been in the rain?"
Mei's neck flustered, and she replied, "…No one cared about what the rain meant to me. No one ever asked. Thought I was strange. Said I was too quiet. Too fragile. Too stiff. But you..you care. You're the only one who's ever asked. If you survive and come back to me, I'll explain the rain to you."
Kenshiro's grip tightened on the dandelion, saying, "Alright. I'll come back."
Kenshiro stood alone in the newly-formed room, the weight of the dandelion in his hand paradoxically heavy. As the sound of Mei's departure echoed down the cave, he looked down at the fragile flower, its survival now intertwined with his own, a silent vow forming between the petal and the blade.
'Babysit a dandelion? A dandelion that's kind of immortal. Strange. When she touched my chest, her pulse was rapid. I could feel it. Has she ever touched anyone before?'
Kenshiro looked around, leaning his head on the cave wall, saying to himself, "Commander Takeda shares a body with the deity of rot, Shikorin. That makes this all the more hard now. Paradise is also his domain, where tree hell could that possibly be? The Temple of Assassins are close to it it seems, and with their help, we could break through and kill Takeda. I hope everything that happens here leads me to them. It's still hard for me to trust anyone based on what I've been through so far. That old man Kanbei knows a lot, his master definitely. Maybe if I kill the Nine Tail Chimera Fox, and I get Kanbei's masters Battle Art, I could probably find more information in there. I wanna know more about everything. He won't tell me why we need to raid one of the Akatsukigahara strongholds, the same one that is looked over by the one who killed Kanbei's master, a literal samurai named Asura…but whatever. I could beat information out of that old geezer if I wanted to, but I don't know how strong he is. I'll sleep on it, and move out to hunt the Nine Tails in the morning."
…
(Morning time)
As the first glimmers of dawn cast a blood-red hue across the sky, Kenshiro found himself standing at the edge of the Aokigahara Estate, a once-majestic compound now swallowed by the rot and decay that had tormented the land. The estate, renowned for its sprawling gardens and magnificent architecture, lay in ruins, its beauty marred by the corruption that seeded within.
'The Aokigahara Estate…'
With katana in hand, Kenshiro made his entrance, dashing through the gates with a swift silence that only a seasoned warrior could attain. The air was thick with decay, the rot clinging to the damaged walls and overgrown foliage, giving off a stench that could turn even the most hardened stomach.
'To hunt the Nine Tails, I'll need Battle Art. A few techniques to have. I can't just rely on Runes Of Vigor and Shinsei Giri. I could definitely find tons of Battle Art in provinces, villages, temples, strongholds, palaces, etc. The Nine Tails Chimera Fox is a spiritual being who can materialize into physical form, and I guess it got caught by the rot in this physical form. Throughout the woods, it was the guardian of all the creatures within it, governing issues between races and beings, and made sure nature took its course with each being according to their own lore. Back in the times when Ryujin wandered this world, so did the Nine Tail's, created under the guidance of Yami, the head of Darkness. In examining the origins of the Nine Tails Chimera Fox, a guardian spirit within the forest realms, one must consider the influence of Yami, the dragon head representing darkness and mystery in the mythos of Ryujin. Yami, among the seven fundamental aspects, governs the realms of the unknown and the hidden layers of existence. The Nine Tails Chimera Fox, revered as a mystical guardian of the woods, embodies characteristics that align closely with those represented by Yami. The head of darkness does not merely symbolize fear and obscurity; it encapsulates the vital, unseen forces that govern natural cycles and transitions. By influencing the Nine Tails, Yami bestowed upon it an aura of enigma and authority, allowing it to administer its duties with subtlety and discretion. This influence is evident in the Nine Tails' role within the forest. Operating from a veil of shadows, the creature expertly manages the delicate balance of the woodland ecosystem. It seamlessly navigates the intricacies of life and death, ensuring that nature's laws are respected and the sanctuary of the forest is maintained. Yami's endowment thus transforms the Nine Tails Chimera Fox into more than a mere woodland entity. It is rendered a symbol of the profound and indispensable forces that operate beneath the visible surface, mirroring the essential nature of darkness—deep, indispensable, and inherently intertwined with the very fabric of existence. This conceptual depth highlights the creature's significance as a pivotal guardian spirit shaped by the mysterious power of Yami.'
As he navigated through the broken paths, the remnants of opulent life stood as hollow witnesses. Half-destroyed buildings, temples; their structures defying gravity, held traces of the grandeur that once was. Sculptures, now disfigured and moss-covered, depicted the warriors and deities once revered here.
Suddenly, grotesque humanoid beings, their skin blistered and bodies twisted by the rot, ambled towards him. Kenshiro's reactions were immediate, his blade moving in graceful yet deadly arcs, slicing through the creatures with a bloody finesse. Each kill was a silent dance, the katana's edge painting red swaths through the air, severing limbs and heads in clean, brutal cuts.
Further into the estate, more twisted beings emerged. Some bore semblances of what might once have been humans, others were unnameable creatures birthed from the dark heart of the rot itself. Their forms were nightmarish, eyes too many or too few, mouths gaping with jagged teeth. Kenshiro met each with the same swift end, his movements a blur of refined lethality, his katana ripping through their being, blood spraying in the air.
'There's creatures I've never even seen before now. They're ugly, disfigured, just gross. Where did they come from?'
As he kept dashing through the estate, from rooftop to rooftop, he looked down at his side, seeing the flower Mei gave him was still there. He remembered when she put his hand on his chest, and Kenshiro said to himself, "She's trusting someone she just met with something that seems precious to her…"
The ground was littered with bodies, the rot having claimed as many lives as the lingering survivors. Blood pooled and mixed with the black ichor that seeped from the festering wounds of the fallen, painting a grim tapestry on the cracked stones of the estate. Kenshiro found his way through a courtyard, where the remnants of a shattered fountain lay spewing dark water. Here too, defenders rose, malformed guards draped in the rotted remnants of their armor, wielding rusted blades that sang a desperate, clanging tune against Kenshiro's sharper steel.
'Old guards of the estate.
As he dispatched these foes, his path took him past a once-lavish hall, its walls scorched by fire and art torn to shreds. Here, dark action unfolded as creatures, half hidden in shadows, leaped at him with ferocious speed. But Kenshiro's agility turned each assault into a deadly counter, his katana finding the chinks in their malformed armor or flesh, each contact leaving behind a corpse.
Finally, Kenshiro emerged into a large open area at the heart of the estate, the key stronghold where the estate's masters once oversaw their domain. The morning light cast long shadows over the overgrown grass, and there in the center, a figure knelt—a shadow amidst the devastation.
As Kenshiro approached, the figure rose. It was a man covered in open wounds, his body marked by countless battles. Clad only in traditional samurai pants and simple shoes, his bald head shone under the rising sun, tattoos swirling over his scarred, bloody face. In his hands, he wielded a long spear, its tip gleaming with a deadly promise.
"Loyalty is power," the warrior began, his voice gruff, echoing through the open space as he slowly advanced towards Kenshiro. "No one shall claim the Master's Battle Art. It is sacred, bound by blood and oath. I almost…had it.."
Suddenly, a gruesome sight unfolded. The warrior's body convulsed as if struggling against an internal force. With horrifying brutality, a figure started to emerge from within him. First a hand, then another, followed by legs and finally, an entire body—a female shinobi, her appearance as eerie as it was lethal.
With long, braided black hair and pitch-black eyes, including a spiraling red third eye on her forehead, and red antler horns on her head, she stood adorned with four arms, each starting to craft an ax from pure blood. "Battle Art: Blood of Creation," she declared, her voice chilling as the temperature around them dropped, She was completely naked as well, her figure covered in burn marks and scars.
She looked at Kenshiro, her multiple arms moving with deadly precision. "The shadow you see was the keeper, the final guardian of the Aokigahara Estate. A lineage as old as the province itself, known for their strength and valor. Only those worthy of the Master's Battle Art should survive. Prove your worth in a fight to the death."
As Kenshiro readied himself, the air thick with tension and the imminent scent of blood and metal, the real battle was about to begin. The estate, wrapped in its history of valor and corruption, stood as the silent witness to what would either be Kenshiro's greatest victory or his final stand.
Kenshiro asked, "What's your name..?"
The woman replied, "Nozomi Shiranui. A valiant shinobi of the estate and Katsuhiro Shiranui. We value a warrior's death over murder. I will give you a warrior's death. I hope you come to acquire the Battle Art of Katsuhiro."
"Damn right I am."
"It will not be easy. You will have to get rid of me for it."
"You're not conflicted with rot, and yet why won't you claim the Battle Art? Those with rot can't take Battle Art from shadows.."
"I will not succumb to loneliness. I have to keep even his shadow company. That's what I was made for. To serve the clan with power, like the Twin Monkeys of Fire, I was a guardian. I can't let anyone who isn't worthy to take it. Once I go, and the Battle Art is taken, me and him will leave together, no more loneliness for any of us."
"….If this is your attempt to make me feel bad for you—."
"It is not. Do not fret, for I will kill you. Those battle scars on your face and body, the rot on your body…you have seen peril and you have killed many. And you claim to take the Battle Art with rot, what are you exactly..?"
"I don't know either…I just know I'm taking that Battle Art. I have to..for me to kill the Nine Tails Chimera Fox, I need all the Battle Art I can get. I have to be strong enough."
"Haha…haha…hahaha! You aim to hunt down the Nine Tails? A being created by one of the heads of Ryujin? You're only a young warrior, your experience is not enough. But since you seem determined to survive this encounter, I will show you devastation."
As the tension between Kenshiro and the freshly emerged Nozomi thickened like the rot-infused air of the Aokigahara Estate, an eerie silence momentarily enveloped the battleground. Despite the chaos that had preceded this moment, nature itself seemed to pause, acknowledging the imminent clash of formidable powers.
Nozomi, standing resolute with her unholy axes of blood clasped firmly in her four arms, began a chilling transformation. Her third eye, nestled unsettlingly on her forehead, ignited with a sinister glow that seemed to pulse with ancient, forbidden knowledge. The air around her palpated, charged with a dark energy emanating from her very essence.
Slowly, as if commanded by some otherworldly force, spiraling red aura began swirling around her. The aura coiled and twisted, tracing an ominous dance in the air, before converging towards the deer antler horns that crowned her head. These horns, which until now had seemed like mere bone, thrummed with the newly infused aura, glowing fiercely with a deep crimson light that cast an unsettling pall over Nozomi's already eerie countenance.
Amidst this spectral display of power, a singular, almost beautiful yet terrifying phenomenon began taking shape behind her. From Nozomi's back, where spine met spirit, a large blood rose unfurled. Its petals, dripping with a vivid essence of life and death intermingled, blossomed slowly in a spectacle of grotesque naturalism. The rose, enormous and overpowering, pulsed like a heart, each beat glowing with ash that spread outwards, dispersing into the surrounding air like ethereal embers.
As the rose expanded, its glow intensified, radiating a haunting light that painted everything in a bloody hue. The rose's presence seemed to feed and strengthen Nozomi, its petals fluttering with every breath she took, synchronizing eerily with her own life force.
The transformation completed, Nozomi stood a transformed entity, not merely a shinobi but a manifestation of battle and bloom, death and growth entwined indistinguishably. Her figure, framed by the monstrous rose and spiraled horns, cast a long, ominous shadow over the ground, foretelling the grave battle that awaited.
Kenshiro, witnessing this alarming metamorphosis, gripped his katana with a mixture of reverence and resolve.
'…My legs won't stop shaking…is it fear? No…I can't be scared now. I have to kill her..I have to.'
The atmosphere around them was supercharged now, the clash of their spirits as inevitable as the rise and fall of the sun. The battleground set at the heart of the Aokigahara Estate, imbued with the legacy of countless battles and the silent screams of those fallen, awaited the first move in what promised to be a fierce encounter between two warriors bound by fate and ferocity.