Hanzo burst out laughing until he could no longer breathe. He sank to his knees, holding the rest of himself up against his sword. Sobs of laughter shook him until his ribs ached but it would be a while before he could stop.

Some of the wolves gathered around the gaping old man to see if he was okay. They whined and whimpered in concern but the old man wobbled to his feet and threatened to beat the wolves with his staff if they dared to touch him.

“Get away from me, you ugly mutts!!” He croaked, while holding his back like age took another ten years off of him.

The once imposing old master looked like a total fool now.

“What the hell is going on over here?” A fresh voice demanded. Everyone turned their heads to find a shadowy figure approaching the scene.

All of the wolves parted to let a man in his early years through and he emerged from the shadows with a piercing gaze. A long black scarf partially hid a brooding but gifted face. His hair was neatly spiked but slanted backwards as if the wind had blown it so.

He wore a dark gray sleeveless vest built with agile gunmetal armor and he donned gauntlets of the same style. A few leather belts were clasped around his waist where a short banner draped along the right of his thigh with a clan insignia printed onto it.

His pants were black, tough material with hazardous shin guards clasped over leather combat boots.

His wolf eyes flashed like diamonds and struck Hanzo with a level of intensity that he hadn’t felt before.

“Okami!!!”

The old man hobbled forward. “You will address me with respect!!”

“Shut up, old man.” The warrior remarked. In his fists he clenched a violently designed chain and sickle nearly as black as Hanzo’s sword but no less exquisite.

His icy gaze roved over the intruder, holding him ransom for only a moment before he walked off with no further interest.

“Where do you think you are going, Okami?” The old man croaked. “How dare you display such rudeness in front of our guest?!”

Guest?? Hanzo thought.

The old man shook his head disdainfully and called off the band of wolves, then approached the brown skinned boy with his hand extended.

“I am Oshira Rothwolfe, leader of the Rothwolfe clan. You must be Hanzo.”

Hanzo shook the master’s hand eyeing him skeptically. Visually, this guy looked almost terrifying but it was hard to see him the same way after the awful spill he took.

“That child...” he went on, “Is my son, Okami Rothwolfe. He is very disrespectful to his elders but someday he will learn...”

Old man Oshira released the boy’s hand and gestured to the environment around them.

“This... is the wolf realm.” He rasped.

Hanzo had no trouble believing that.

The two began to walk while Oshira began telling the story of how the Rothwolves came to be.

A long time ago, there was a great war in which both nations had ultimately wiped each other out. A powerful warlord fought valiantly on that battlefield against all odds but even he had reached his limit. Legends told that he was the last man standing of his army.

Mortally wounded, he sought refuge in the mountains where he thought for sure death would take him. However, a gorgeous woman of those mountains who learned to speak with wolves found him and brought him back to life with healing abilities.

When asked why he was saved, the woman called forth a wolf that he recognized, one that he had saved in the midst of battle and adopted.

It was because of this deed that she had watched over him and provided unseen strength during such a terrible war.

Eventually, the man fell in love with the enchanting woman and took her as his wife.

In doing so he’d made a pact with the wolves and became the alpha male.

When the woman became with child, an old enemy returned in search of the missing warrior. Upon finding him, a battle of planetary proportions broke out between the two, emanating with such power that the heavens trembled.

Then, the impossible happened.

The warrior Dhamuk wound up crossing swords with his opponent right above his wife Sehra who had given birth to a son.

The sacred oak tree in which she resided along with the rest of the wolves, was suddenly struck by a huge bolt of lightning. The bolt sprang down the great tree, blowing it to smithereens and struck everyone inside.

A great surge of spirit pressure bombed the atmosphere and as a result everyone within and around that oak tree were changed forever.

Dhamuk Rothman and Jinretsu were destroyed and so was Sehra as she tried to protect the little runt. However, their life force poured into the baby along with the beam of lighting that crawled over the surrounding wolves but did not kill them.

In the wake of the catastrophe lie a child with glowing eyes, surrounded by an army of immensely powerful wolves who bowed their heads before the new alpha male.

“What the hell??!” Hanzo exclaimed with a slight cringe.

Oshira laughed as he told this somewhat tragic story.

The two now sat inside of a large cozy tent in the middle of an open, dusty plain decorated with more tents occupied by shy men, women and children who resembled wolves more so than Oshira and Okami.

Coffee and unusual pastries were set before Hanzo on an elegantly carved wooden table that two ladies in maid’s clothing brought to him.

He noticed that they too looked more like wolves. It was a chilling experience and so was that odd story told by old man Oshira.

“So, here we are today.” He rasped proudly.

Hanzo sipped his coffee, unsure of what to say next.

“So, uh...” he tried to come up with something, “What’s the deal between you and uh, Okami?”

Oshira widened his eyes hatefully at the thought of the rogue.

“That child is a bastard!! He wants nothing more than to strip me of my rightful place on the throne and take it for himself!!“

“Oh, okay.” Hanzo replied nonchalantly.

The old man relaxed once more with nothing else to say.

After long bouts of silence, Hanzo decided to head outside for a breath of fresh air. He didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment.

Passing through the layered tent curtains, he stepped out to find that the entire area had gone vacant.

Looking up toward the mountains in the valley, he noticed that one of them was missing a peak. It looked as though half of the damn mountain was cleaved off.

The moon shone across the marble smooth surface. Sheets of smoke floated off the edge as a calm wind carried hints of a burnt smell.

The mountain peak was probably there yesterday by the looks of it. Hanzo could only imagine what had happened.

“So how did you do it?” An emotionless voice startled him out of his daydreaming.

Okami Rothwolfe stood right beside him, beating his height by an inch or two.

“D-Do what?” Hanzo swallowed, about to swing off on the person.

“Walk with me.” Okami turned abruptly. He led the young lad away from the Rothwolfe encampment that suddenly seemed like a temporary establishment when looking at it from a distance.

The two warriors walked through a serene wreath of swaying pine trees and for some time Okami didn’t say a word.

Getting a closer look at this silent assassin, Hanzo observed his suave, dispassionate nature and figured he was a charm with the ladies. A typical hotshot who acted cooler than he really was.

The warrior cut his icy blue eyes at Hanzo and silenced his thoughts as if he’d said them aloud.

“Where did you get that sword?”

He eyed the lavish slayer weapon studiously.

“Uh,” Hanzo scratched his scalp, picturing a man’s head rolling, “Borrowed it from somebody...”

“And that portal...it was yours as well?”

“Uhh...” Hanzo recalled the glowing halo that appeared during his fight with the flinters. “Nah, I don’t know what that was.”

Okami’s brow twitched as if something annoyed him but said nothing else.

“Speaking of portals and all that, where in the hell am I?”

“The Wolf Realm.” The Rothwolfe answered in a sharp tone.

“Yeah. Obviously, but in what part of the world is this wolf realm? It was just daytime where I came from.”

“This is a realm...” Okami chided as he came to a halt in front of a set of sculpted iron doors as tall as the pine trees.

There was no building attached to them whatsoever. They simply stood there without reason.

Hanzo was sure he did not even see them there a moment ago.

“I don’t know what those old men told you but the Wolf Realm is not a tourist attraction.” Okami expressed disdainfully, pushing the outsider closer toward the grandiose obstacle.

“People who come here do not go back out ninety nine percent of the time.

Think about that.”

The young rogue studied the level of detail on the imposing monument but heard the assassin loud and clear.

The doors creaked loudly as they opened, emitting beams of light. A refreshing burst of wind swept inward, upsetting the leaves, branches and particles.

One solid foot to Hanzo’s behind sent him sprawling out of the realm and onto a lake of white sand. All he could see was the sun’s brightness blaring upon every last thing in existence but soon his blindness subsided and found himself on the beach again.

“Well, look what dropped in!!” Said a familiar voice belonging to none other than the porridge man. “It’s our pal, Hanny Hanzo!!”

Hanzo sat up and beat the sand off his clothing, muttering aggressively to himself.

I can’t wait till I see that smug jack again. I’mma clean his clock till it shines.

“Where’d ya go off to, Hanny?”

The old man grinned.

“Shut up.” He stood and shook the rest of the sand and dirt away. “This is unbelievable...”

“What’s wrong, son?” The old coot cocked his head. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I said shut up, you clown!!” The boy balled his fists. “This is all your damn fault in the first place!! —Throwing me through linear dimensions and portals, catching fish that turn into dragons and nearly getting me mauled by an army of wolves!!”

“Oho?” The old man chuckled, “So you’ve met the wolves?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know, punk!! All those bastards there already knew my damn name and treated me like I was some kind of guest! Even the freakin’ master Oshiro—or whatever his name was—started babbling about my coming like it was destined to happen. So why don’t you go ahead and let me in on the joke, huh??”

The old man pulled out an extra chair and another bowl of muddy oats.

“Why don’t you take a seat and have yourself a bowl of piping hot porridge?” He offered amiably.

“Oh, thanks.” Hanzo said, taking the warm bowl. Right afterwards, he launched the whole meal into the ocean.

“Aw, darn...” the old fool shook his scrawny head, “A perfectly good meal wasted.”

Hanzo couldn’t believe this guy. He was a fake. A phony. All of them were. He had no clue what they wanted from him but it was nothing good for sure.

Overcome by anger, he grabbed the old man’s clothes and jerked him violently.

“Listen, you scrub. I don’t have time for this. The only reason I put up with your garbage is because of that oversized ape who still hasn’t shown up after two days. You’d better train me proper right now, or I’ll gladly backpack my way to Baveoma, you little rat!”

“Oh. Well... you see Hanny, you’re gonna have to take a boat back. Ain’t no backpacking around here! Not unless you wanna roll around in circles on this island.”

“What?”

“You’re on an island!”

Hanzo was buzzed, having been oblivious to that fact.

The old man clucked. “Well, old pal!!” He clapped his hands together and stood up, “Time to get started with your training!”

“That’s what you said last time, you moron. And instead of training you had be stabbing at some stupid fish with a damn stick.”

“It’s called the poke maneuver.” Corrected the old man. “I keep telling you young whippersnappers that the maneuver is a fundamental necessity for your training but y’all just don’t wanna listen to your old man.”

Hanzo started to wonder if he would have been better off slaying that old demon Shakabara and bringing the corpse to Grandmaster Varsis Doom to be trained under him instead. Probably would have saved him from this perplexing predicament.

“Listen Hanny, you talk too damn much.” the fool rambled. “I want you to look out into the ocean and tell me what you see.”

Hanzo turned to the ocean and gazed at its obvious brilliance but found nothing of import.

“I don’t see anything.” he rasped.

The old man was puzzled. “You don’t see anything? Are you blind?”

“Shut up, idiot.”

“My name is Uzai.” The old man corrected. “Naomi must have told you my name was Idiot. No idea why she tells people that but then again, I don’t know why that girl does anything these days. She’s a real tough nut to crack, I tell ya!”

Hanzo didn’t give a damn what his name was but at least he knew now so he could recommend everyone he knew to stay the hell away from him.

“Uzai.” he mumbled.

“Yep! Uzai Mevinterach! Pleased to meet ya!” he extended his hand. “And what’s your name young fella?”

Hanzo felt like he could kill the annoying old man with his glare alone but he stood there unscathed, tattered robes, mage staff, goofy grin and all.

Just for the hell of it, he swung off on him. The black sword split the air with a shriek and cut a diagonal line across the old master’s torso.

The blade hit the sand with a metallic whump! and the force of which spawned a gust of wind. Oddly enough, Hanzo looked up to see the old man standing in the same spot picking his nose.

What the— the warrior stiffened.

He felt for certain that he’d chopped the old bastard open but there he remained without even a scratch.

“Well, Hanny.” he clucked, “If you want to practice your sword skills we have a special place for that, but for today I think we should at least start with the water element.”

Hanzo put his sword away and grit his teeth in silent menace. This old man was no joke. Well, beneath the surface at least. Everything on the outside was nothing but tomfoolery.

Just what level is this halfwitted freeloader?