HANA AND KUNSHU APPROACHED THE HOUSE within which they had grown up. Kunshu stopped outside of the building, this boogeyman of his past, and took everything in. It had grown into a lifeless and bleak excuse for one’s shelter since he’d last been there, emitting a truly depressing aura mixed with a bizarre familiarity. He went with Hana to the screen door entrance. They entered the house and its dull, abandoned nature became even more overwhelming, as if they had found themselves face to face with a frightening beast after hearing so much of its dangers. A sense of near-dizziness found itself in the two of them as they continued into the living room.

From there, Hana directed Kunshu up a flight of stairs, carpeted over with a shade of grayish teal. As Kunshu walked up the stairs, Hana followed closely and silently behind him. Once he reached the top of the stairs, Kunshu went into his father’s room, whereupon he saw Dokusai lying upon his deathbed. Another strange wave of emotions hit Kunshu when he saw this, something he hadn’t felt since the death of his mother. Dokusai’s face had become colorless and the once looming figure of Kunshu’s youth, the man that had forged him into what he is today, seemed to be no stronger than a rose left in a hot desert.

“Thank you for bringing Kunshu here, Hana,” Dokusai wheezed, his voice showing wear from years past. “You may leave now.”

Hana exited the rooms, gently folding her arms against her body as she closed the door behind her. After the sound of her footsteps dissipated, Dokusai began to speak once more.

“So, Kunshu,” he began. “How’s that dead-end job of yours? Having fun without this monkey on your back?”

“As much fun as a man can,” Kunshu answered, an annoyance escaping from his tone. “What do you want, you old geezer?”

“Open your eyes, you fucking dillweed,” Dokusai snapped back. “Clearly I’m not doing so well.”

“What does your sorry state have to do with me?”

“Did you already forget about your destiny?”

“How could I? Take over the world, kill some people, end bloodlines, yadda, yadda, yadda.”

“My God, you’re an ungrateful shit,” Dokusai groaned as he grabbed the Alpha Blade from beside him. “We both know that the corner store isn’t what you want. I’m helping you out of it.”

Kunshu looked at the blade and tried to unsheathe it, to no avail.

“I hate to leave this task to a moron like you, but my time has come. I need to pass the Alpha Blade on to my next of kin. Hana is more useless than a peephole on a door with a window, so you’re the best I’ve got. You need to conquer this dumpster fire.”

“Wowwee,” Kunshu sarcastically remarked, “what an honor! I’m so thrilled that my dad is passing down the family heirloom.”

Dokusai entered a coughing fit. He looked down at his handkerchief to find drops of blood. Kunshu continued to inspect the Alpha Blade.

“You always were a wimp, boy,” Dokusai barely mustered. “Make me proud.” He looked toward the ceiling as the life left his eyes. Dokusai Mujihina, aged only 44, died as he had lived: helping Kunshu in fulfilling his destiny.

“Despite everything,” Kunshu told his father, should his spirit be able to hear, “thank you for teaching me how to survive in this world. I owe you that much, you scumbag.”

As he headed for the door to leave Dokusai’s room, Kunshu felt a slight pain in his left arm. Once it had faded, he noted a skull marking on his left wrist, seeming closer to a tattoo than a brand. He left the room and closed the door behind him without saying a word.

He went back down the stairs and was greeted by Hana, who leaned against the wall.

“Are you doing okay?” she asked Kunshu, with a worried tone.

“Oh, I’m better than okay,” Kunshu responded, continuing to walk toward the kitchen. “That bastard finally kicked the bucket.”

“Wait, what?!” Hana was taken aback not only by this news, but also the nonchalant manner with which her brother had presented it to her. “Shu!”

“Come on, Hana,” he continued, unphased by her pleas. “You were probably waiting for this day too.”

“I was not!”

Kunshu continued into the kitchen, grabbing his matchbox.

“What are you doing now?” Hana protested, continuing after him.

“I’m giving him a proper sendoff,” he said as he opened a drawer to reveal a gasoline canister. “Why wait until he gets to the mortuary to cremate him?”

“Shu!” Hana exclaimed, realizing what Kunshu had been planning to do.

“Leave this house at once, Hana,” Kunshu pleaded as he began pouring gasoline onto the walls. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

After a brief pause, Hana left the kitchen, looking back in worry and anger as he continued to drench the walls in gasoline, the wallpaper beginning to peel from the abrasion after many years of neglect. He continued to pour the gasoline, his mind growing blank as his only thought became retribution for the torment he received after all of those years. The gasoline smacked against the nozzle as Kunshu began a trail outside of the house, through the screen door, stopping just at the front of the concrete deck. He threw the now empty canister into the yard as he took the matchbox out of his mouth. Striking the match against the side of the house, he threw it onto the gasoline trail. The flames spread until the entire area of the kitchen had been lit ablaze. The pyre began slowly spreading throughout the house, engulfing its entire architecture. For the first time in years, Kunshu felt alive.

“What the hell was that for?!” Hana yelled out, struggling to keep herself under control. “Why, Shu?!”

“Father had one wish, Hana,” Kunshu began. “Everything starts today. If you don’t want to get hurt, I’d suggest you stay as far away from me as you can.”

“Are you crazy?! I’m your sister, Shu!”

“That’s why. I can’t have my good conscience holding me back. Goodbye, Hana.”

Seeing that her brother had passed the point of no return, Hana let out a frustrated yell before collapsing to her knees, staring at the inferno before her.

❒︎❒︎❒︎❒︎❒︎❒︎❒︎

Two months passed faster than a car driving a mile on an interstate. Since then, Kunshu had been lurking around Akuni, waiting for the prime moment to strike and claim the Omega Blade for himself. Four days ago, he found that moment. News had reached him that Oji Kenshi, the previous wielder of the Omega Blade, had recently passed away, aged 74 after succumbing to heart failure. On top of that, it was announced that the ceremony for his next of kin to inherit the blade would be held at a park in Engan. Kunshu saw an opportunity in this and began toward the port city.

Once the day had finally arrived, Kunshu looked over at the audience. He saw a young man with black hair and a pair of bifocals. He recognized this man to be Hana’s boyfriend, Oto. There was an undeniable plainness to the man, hardly the type that Kunshu would consider worthy of Hana’s affections. This did not matter to Kunshu at that moment, though. He had bigger fish to fry as the ceremony began.

An older woman walked onto the stage to join a middle-aged man with blonde hair. Kunshu was able to deduce that this woman was Seyun Kenshi, Oji’s widow. Although visibly bereaved by her husband’s passing, she still spoke to the audience, collected as ever.

“Today is a very special day,” she began. “This young man will take a generational vow and have a great honor bestowed upon him.”

“It is a privilege and an honor to be here today,” the blonde-haired man told the spectators. Kunshu identified this man as Oji’s son, Sofu Kenshi. There was something about the way Sofu spoke that irritated Kunshu. Perhaps it was his excited tone at what Kunshu thought to be a solemn and serious event. Perhaps it was that his voice made him sound like a brainless fool with the maturity of a college freshman despite being much older. He could not be certain as to what, and yet, it was still an irritant to Kunshu. Once more, however, this did not matter to Kunshu when all was said and done. All the more reason to silence him.

The cloth placed over a large item on a table in the center of the stage revealed itself to the attendees of this spectacle. It was a greatsword with a guard covered in vines, with karlek roses jutting out from the vines. The blade had a distinct curvature to it, unlike most other swords of its variety and closer to the same curvature of the Alpha Blade. No doubt this was the Omega Blade.

“Do you swear by this blade that you will remain faithful to your comrades?” Seyun inquired.

“I do swear,” Sofu answered back. The lenient nature of this scene, nay, this carnival, felt much less like a true instance of the torch being passed down to the next generation and closer to a child at play crowning himself King of the Universe to give him the power to change the rules of the game and invent new powers so that he would always have the upper hand in their game of make-believe. Kunshu prepared the Alpha Blade and honed in on his target.

“I grant you this blade,” Seyun continued, gesturing to the Omega Blade. “Carry it with great care and awareness. Never falter in the face of an enemy.”

Sofu grabbed the blade and the audience erupted into applause. The attendees all bleated their approval as they rose to their feet. That is, all but one.

Kunshu rushed toward the stage, preparing to test the final of Seyun’s commands to Sofu. He unsheathed the Alpha Blade and leaped onto the platform. He could see the fear in Sofu’s eyes and the shock in the eyes of the spectators as he made a swing at Sofu’s neck. Only a few seconds later, the ceremony and Sofu’s life were both given an abrupt end. Blood began to ooze from what remained of Sofu’s neck.

“You bastard!” Oto yelled out from the audience. “Why would you do this?!”

With nothing else to say, Kunshu replied “I’m simply claiming my destiny.”

Continuing with his strategy, he tried to lift the Omega Blade with his right hand. As he tried to remove it from the stage however, with it being burrowed so deep and the sword not belonging to him, it would not budge. He stopped for a moment, returning the Alpha Blade to its sheath before trying again. The blade still would not move, seeming to weigh an ungainly amount, impossible for any man to lift. Had he not taken care of the last man to be born a Kenshi? If so, then why was Kunshu unable to claim it for himself? If not, then who is Sofu’s next of kin?

He did not have time to ponder these questions as a bullet came toward his head. His reactions honed from his training with Dokusai, he unsheathed the Alpha Blade and blocked the bullets. He watched as the bullets hit the floor, noticing their faint red tint. These bullets were made of pure garnium. Should one bullet hit him, he would certainly die, regardless of the magical properties of the Alpha Blade.

The crowd scattered throughout the venue as a maila charged toward Kunshu, possessing an anger in his eyes that Kunshu had not seen before.

“Well,” Kunshu slyly remarked, “you want a taste of this blade, pretty boy?”

“I’ve come to do what your grandfather asked me to do all those years ago,” the maila growled, uninterested in Kunshu’s banter. “Your treachery ends here, Kunshu.”

From sparse chants in the audience, as well as his father’s instruction, he realized that the maila was Zeronius Kantoku III. As he realized this, Zero gave Kunshu a swift kick to the chest, sending him crashing through the wall on the south side of the stage. Kunshu grinned as he charged back at the maila, only to be kicked in the side and sent sliding back once again. Zero fired three more rounds, with Kunshu only barely dodging them before throwing a chair at him. Zero was too distracted by blocking the chair to defend against a jab to the chin. Zero paused, his flesh unbruised.

“You will regret the day you were born,” he snapped.

“I have no regrets,” Kunshu quipped as he sent Zero through the wall with a kick.

Kunshu chased after the maila into the woods near the park. Finding a moment to breathe, Zero unsheathed his claymore, modified with garnium. He had restructured the weapon as a way of evening the playing field between himself and the Fabled Swords. Each participant placed their full force behind each attack he dealt and braced themselves as much as possible for each attack dealt unto him. After a long bout, Zero managed to break Kunshu’s patterns and land a leg sweep on the eldest Mujihina, sending him tumbling down the hill they stood upon.

Zero watched Kunshu tumble toward the creek, his fall being stopped by a tree. Kunshu wiped his lip before going for a slash on Zero’s face. The maila took the attack full force, knowing that Kunshu could not pierce his tough skin. He fired another bullet at Kunshu, which was once more blocked by the Alpha Blade. The adrenaline in their bodies was the highest it had been in their entire lives. Thinking fast, Zero swiped some dirt from the forest floors and threw it into Kunshu’s eyes, momentarily blinding him. He then rushed in with his claymore and slashed Kunshu’s right cheek. He cried out in agony, holding his face as he lay on his back in the middle of the creek. Zero stood above the motionless Kunshu.

“Judgement shall be passed onto you on this day,” Zero began, returning once more to a verbal conflict. “It is a shame that such a great swordsman as yourself must be put down like this.”

Zero raised his claymore, ready to make a final stab into Kunshu’s skull, when the human’s eyes were filled with a void shade of black. Wings began to emerge, just like those of a raven, throwing Zero backward as Kunshu landed a few inelegant blows against his foe. Zero easily blocked them, but could not return any strikes as Kunshu flew into the canopies, out of Zero’s sight.

Once he was certain of this, he deactivated Suornha and climbed out of the tree he was in. He left the woods on the opposite end of the park and began eastward to Antemouth, his hometown and the capital of Aotoshi, his plans unfulfilled.