nevin

how 'bout if I play for a while? ^-^

Isamu had been on a long journey. His village, tucked deep within the mountains, was known for their brutal warriors, but even the strongest hadn’t been able to fight off a bitter disease that attacked from within. Isamu had been visiting a forest tribe when the disease hit, and a feeble elder had managed to meet and warn him on the trail home before he entered the village.

“Isamu, honorable warrior, our home has been attacked; our people have fallen—there is nothing you can do to save them,” she added, noticing how he gripped his spear tighter. “You must avenge our people. Go south.” This was all she could manage before she too fell to weakness.

Alone, he turned around to the forest village and sought support, but none would help. More isolated than ever, he went back to his village, climbed the highest peak that overlooked the rooftops. He stared, for days, at the home he could never return to. And he prayed, meditating for hours, until finally he felt ready to go south and find the people responsible.

That was how Isamu found the Combat Plains. He wasn’t there for revenge—this was just training along the way. It had been a lot time since he’d had to fight anything larger or smarter than a leopard. And make no mistake, a leopard was large enough and smart enough to be trouble. But for a dark-haired man with scar-striped skin, “trouble” wasn’t training so much as a bit of fun.

He’d been on an elevated ledge as Matrue fought the three rouges. ‘Pathetic,’ Isamu thought to himself. Being on his own for so long had made him cynical about groups, and here was a perfect example of their weakness. He smiled to himself—this guy looked like good practice.

“Heh, that was pretty good, Mikio. Think you can pull off those tricks again?”
Matrue smiled back and looked ready for a fight.
Channeling all his determination, and grief, and anger, Isamu tightened his hold on his spear, and jumped at the youth.