DATE: 1902
LOCATION: Rural Village, "Aokusa", in Northern Japan
CHOP. CHOP. CHOP.
"Akira!" A teenage girl shouted, running toward the sound.
CHOP. CHOP. CHOP.
"Akira!!"
CHOP. CHOP. CHOP.
The girl slid into a stop. There he was, Akira, who was now sixteen, sweat clinging to his hair as he split logs one after another.
CHOP. CHOP. CHOP.
She tapper his shoulder. Instantly, he whirled around, dropping into a defensive stance before relaxing.
"Oh, it's you, Shirakawa," he muttered.
She puffed her cheeks. "I told you... call me Aiko! We're best friends, aren't we? You even live in the same house as me!"
"Maybe," he said flatly. "Who knows? Do you need something?"
She huffed. "N-no, but my father does. Go see him, or I'll hit you!"
"The village chief? Needs me? For what?"
"I don't know! I just do as I'm told," she shot back in a mocking tone.
Akira chuckled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She kicked the back of his leg. "Get going! I'll take over here, but don't take too long. I'm a princess, so be grateful!"
"Yeah, yeah..."
It had been ten years since the fall of the Tenryu. In that time, Akira wandered the forests alone, surviving with nothing but his clothes and the sword on his back. For two years he lived that way, until the village chief found him sleeping beneath a cedar tree and brought him to Aokusa.
The villagers never guessed who he really was. His features marked him clearly to those in the rather urban regions, but in this quiet, rural place, such things were easily to be overlooked.
Since then, Akira lived under the roof of the chief and his daughter Airo Shirakawa. His days were filled with routine. Practicing sword drills that he learned during his childhood, chopping wood, fishing, hunting in the forest, and standing guard when demons, vampires, or yokai came too close for comfort.
Fortunately, most were weak. Even a well-trained villager could hold them off. For Akira, they were little more than reminders of the world outside Aokusa.
He slung his sword onto his back, leaving the axe resting in the chopped pile of wood. The chief had been waiting near the edge of the village, his expression unreadable.
"Akira," the chief said, voice low but firm. "The northern ridge. Villagers reported strange lights and noises at night. I want you to see what's going on."
Akira's gaze swept the surrounding trees. "Alone?"
"Yes," the chief replied. "The rest of the men are out getting supplies from the city. I know it's dangerous, but I trust you and you're the only one that can protect us at the moment."
Akira nodded slowly. "Understood," he said.
The chief gave a brief nod. "Be cautious. Obviously, whatever it is, it's not human. The hunters found scorch marks on the trees. It's as if lightning had struck them, but no storm had appeared for days."
Akira's eyes narrowed. "Lightning without thunder, huh... what could it be?"
As he left the village, he adjusted the strap on his sword. Aiko stood near the fence, arms crossed, pretending not to watch him leave. He gave a small wave anyway.
"Don't do anything stupid!" she shouted.
He smirked faintly, "That's your job, isn't it?"
With that, he turned toward the woods, his expression becoming neutral. The path to the northern ridge wound through the thick cedar forest, each step muffled by fallen needles.
After a few minutes of walking, he noticed the birds had become silent. The air was rather heavy and static, almost like it was charging something.
He paused once, resting a hand on a tree trunk. The bark was warm, unnaturally so. His expression hardened.
"It's a Yokai, a lightning type... I've never encountered one before."
In the distance, sparks of light began flickering, dancing between the trunks like fireflies. In the center of the clearing, a faint glow pulsed, flickering like a heartbeat.
He removed his katana from the scabbard. A sudden crack split the air, a streak of blue-white lightning, sharp and aimed, skimmed right past his head hitting a tree.
The bark scorched and the tree shook from the force. "Alright..." he muttered under his breath.
The pulse of electricity grew stronger, crackling along the trees, jumping from branch to branch. Akira stepped forward, sword drawn, muscles coiled and eyes sharp. The glow in the center began to shift, condensing into a shape. It was humanoid, but jagged with arcs of lightning across its form.
A soft, high-pitched voice rang out. "Heehee! You came all alone! Are you going to play with me?"
Akira's grip tightened. "I don't play," he said evenly. "I need you to leave this area."
The Yokai tilted its head, sparks flickering like laughter. "Leave? Boring. I don't like boring. You're boring." Its hands crackled, and the ground around it scorched where each step landed.
Akira gulped before lunging, sword slicing toward the creature. Blue lightning flared as the Yokai blocked with a glowing hand, sparks erupting from the impact. The force shoved him back two steps, and he felt a sting along his shoulder where a glancing strike grazed him.
"Not bad," the Yokai giggled. "I take it back, you're fun! But try harder, I need more fun!"
Akira pressed forward, parrying strikes, swinging wide arcs. Each clash made the air scream with sparks. He landed a shallow cut along the Yokai's torso, but in return, an electric surge cracked across his arm, burning skin through the fabric of his sleeve.
"You're strong," the creature said, voice almost playful, eyes flicking with childish mischief. "Can we have fun for real now?"
Akira's jaw tightened. "I-I suppose."
But he was already fighting for his life. Every strike he parried left him bruised and bleeding, his sword feeling heavier with each block. The Yokai's swings were wild but surprisingly precise; however, its attack pattern and behavior were that of a novice. It lacked experience, and was obviously a newly born Yokai, no older than a week or two.
Akira stumbled backward, panting, cuts along his arms, a shallow burn on his neck, sweating blinding his vision as it dripped into his eyes.
The clearing seemed to stretch endlessly, each flash of electricity lighting the night.
"Faster! Harder! You're slow!" the Yokai squealed, hopping forward, spinning in the air as arcs of lightning lashed toward him. Akira barely deflected them with a desperate swing.
He was exhausted. Every muscle screamed. Every breath was heavy and burned. A deep cut along his forearm throbbed, and another nick on his side made his ribs feel like they were on fire.
"I-I can't... keep this up..." he mumbled. "This m-must be a newly born Greater Yokai."
"Correct!" It shouted, as if Akira had just answered correctly on Jeopardy. "This is fun! Come on, don't be scared! I've yet to go all out!" Its childish laugh filled the forest, but Akira felt his knees weaken. He collapsed on one knee, his katana planted in the ground.
"Oh come on, this is no fun! Here, I'll go easier, or we can duel with swords!" the Yokai squealed, hopping forward, sparks dancing along its body like fireworks.
Akira's vision blurred. His sweat stung his eyes, blood dripped down his arms, and the forest around him felt like it was closing in.
The Yokai twirled, almost taunting him. "C'mon! Fight! Or are you too scared and powerless?"
Something snapped inside Akira.
Too scared? Powerless?
The words struck him harder than any of the wounds he had received. He vividly remembered the fall of his clan, the Tenryu. Having to be kicked into a hidden exit, his parents dying, even his older siblings. He had survived, but always felt alone, powerless.
And now... he had strength, he had power. Now he could fight. "So why..." he wondered. "Why do I still feel powerless?"
Anger welled inside him. A strange warmth spread through his chest. It started small, then began expanding, coiling around his heart, lungs, and limbs. His breathing steadied, even as his wounds burned and stung. His vision sharpened. He could see them, the sparks of the Yokai, the tips of its lightning strikes, the ground trembling beneath them.
He stood up before spreading his legs apart in a wide stance. He gripped the katana with both hands in front of him. "I haven't been able to use this in front of the others, but now I can..."
"Ooh, now it's time for the real action then?" The Yokai jolted with excitement.
"Heavenly Style... First Form." A faint glow emanated along his arms, pulsing with a rhythm that matched his heartbeat. "You... will not treat me like a joke." He spoke in a low tone, voice trembling with restrained fury.
The Yokai laughed, sparks flaring. "Oooh, feisty now! I like that! Let's go!"
The battle resumed, but now, Akira moved differently. His strikes were sharper, faster, stronger, almost anticipating the Yokai's childish whims. Each swing of his katana forced the creature back, each parry precise. He wasn't invincible in the slightest, he still felt the burn of electricity and the sting of shallow cuts, but now he could withstand them.
The Yokai pouted, hopping and spinning. "Hey! That's cheating! I'm supposed to win, not fair! Not fair!"
Akira ignored him, continuing with his flurry of attacks.
"You're... too.. strong..." the Yokai admitted, its voice tinged with annoyance. "But, I am really strong too!"
And then it struck. The Yokai's formed its final attack, a chain of lightning strikes, each one connecting to the next, whipping across the clearing at near-impossible speeds.
Trees were shredded, the ground burned where each arc hit, and the air screamed in a high-pitched whine.
Akira's body reacted instinctively. He planted his feet, channeling his energy through every fiber of his being. The glow along his arms flared, a halo of concentrated energy tracing his muscles. Time slowed in his perception as each lightning chain met his blade with a violent clash, sparks exploding like firecrackers. The sound was defeaning, the shockwaves pushing him back again and again.
"Haha, take that! You can't win now, die!" The Yokai laughed sinisterly.
With a final, decisive movement, Akira channeled the energy into his legs, bolting at the Yokai as lightning strike past his ears. The Katana cleaved through the Yokai's center just as the last of the chain lightning flared around him. A burst of electricity scattered in all directions, the clearing erupting in a brilliant blue explosion.
When the smoke cleared, the Yokai lay sprawled with the katana in him, sparks dying, body smoldering but alive. Its high-pitched voice was weak, almost pitiful. "I... didn't... want to be hurt. Ow... it hurts!"
Akira's knees buckled. His vision blurred, his body trembling violently. He slumped to the ground, his hands sliding off his katana as the adrenaline and exhaustion collapsed him into unconsciousness.
The forest had fell silent again. Akira had survived, though barely.
. . .
In the distance, footsteps approached the unconscious Akira. They were soft and quiet despite the shattered forest around them.
A figure emerged from the shadows between the trees. Clad in flowing robes, the figure's presence radiated with authority. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned Akira's battered form.
He crouched beside Akira, placing a single hand on his shoulder. The glow along the boy's arms dimmed as his life force waned.
"You fought well... far beyond your capability as a mere intermediate level swordsman," the man murmured, voice deep. "Even a newly born Greater Yokai could not have expected such a resolve. To think you'd be willing to receive multiple deep cuts simply to finish it off..."
Akira groaned weakly, eyelids fluttering as his body shivered violently.
"Perhaps this is fate, youngin' of the fallen Tenryu clan," The man continued. "I truly regret not assisting, but I had no other choice."
Without warning, he grabbed the katana from the ground and lifted Akira with ease, hosting the limp body into his arms.
"Tenryu blood..." he whispered under his breath. "So much potential, I will ensure you are not lost. The world will know the strength you were born with, the strength they had mistakenly dared to mess with."
Akira murmured something incoherent, perhaps a dream of home, or a fragment of the battle replaying in his mind. "Rest now, you will survive. However, you're home or wherever you come from, will think otherwise. I do hope you forgive me..."
And then, with a single fluid motion, he vanished out of thin air.