The man whipped the wooden practice sword from his hip and swung it down. His eyes held no emotion, only detached interest. He wasted no time either. The first strike was followed with three others in rapid succession.
------------------------------------------
To his surprise Grayell found a matching wooden sword at his hip, in fact, the clothing he had on might has well been a duplicate of the man in front of him, if somewhat smaller in size. He might have realized then that the reason the man seemed taller, was because he was small, perhaps eleven or twelve years old.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell wasn't sure what he should do. He'd missed his opportunity to defend himself already. He didn't know if his teacher would come on again.
He shuffled back on stride and drew the bokken slowly, held it firmly with both hands. Again, he had to be Kiko. She had learned young... younger than him. His eyes locked on his teacher's and the bokken rested easy, hilt points toward his gut, the angle ready to strike any way needed.
The man in front of him didn’t bother with using the sword. He reversed his direction and jammed a foot into his outside knee dropping him to the ground. The words were quick, and with the same sort of detachment as the look from before.
Do not assume where the attack will come or how. Again.
The lesson continued and if there was any gentleness in the man it did not show here. He constantly keep up the demanding pace, striking from a dozen spots and in a dozen ways. There was no chance any child could have defended them all, or even expected half of them. When he called a halt to it the sky outside the dojo was dark with clouds.
The voice sounded in his ears and it was fading as much as the world around him. The pain in his skull was back, but it wasn’t contained there completely this time. This time it spread out to encompass his body, and his soul. It yanked him out of this world and threw him into the next like the hand of some uncaring god.
Now the beast began to stir. It had a source, something viable. It started with a whisper that led to a quickening, a lure that wanted to remove the pain.
Not so easy.
He shoved it down, he did not need it. Especially not for this. But the pain... gods the pain. How such a young child could endure this pain... this was not right. This was not training, this was cruelty. She was discarded like an animal, treated worse... and he felt every moment. He wanted to be sick. He wanted.... to roll in a ball and cry. He could not. Not now.
First; the rushing sound in his ears. Second; no air. There was no air to be found and his lungs were starved for it. He had to have air to survive. He forced himself to move forward, look harder. It had to be here. Now, the absence of sound. A bottling up of all the noise around him until his ears felt like they might explode alongside his chest. Confusion reigned. Death hovered just inches away. His heartbeat started to slow, he was losing momentum fast. He kicked faster. His head broke the water with a wheezing gasp.
Water streamed off her face. Kiko wiped her eyes clean of the soaked bangs staring across the lake. Arata’s head was above the surface too, but more importantly, his hand was clutched around an opaque green stone twice again as big as his fist.
There was a round of cheers when he held it up for all to see. Her father would send him to the Water Dancers. It was only fair. He had retrieved the jade otter first. All those hours of training, useless now. Her heart broke. She would not bring any honor to her family. Arata had beaten her, again. She was fifteen.
The wind picked up and drove him to his knees in the muddy earth. He reached the edge of the lake eyes blinded by tears and barely holding on to consciousness.
It was worse than all the beatings combined. Kiko survived the pain of those blows. The bruises faded and her body recovered. The ruin of her hopes and dreams would not be mended. It turned inward, festered, and began to rot.
She avoided her family, she evaded the few friends she had, and she trained in the forest alone. She had always been a quiet child, now she was as skittish as a wild pony, too. And sometimes, when she was so far into the trees that the only path to be seen was footprints; Kiko saw a creature walking upright that had no right to be doing so. Three years went by and she grew from a skittish teenager into a solitary adult.
The flash of blinding light filled his vision. He balled up his body on the earth while the stabbing streak of light near took his skull apart. Was there sound? A crack? Something broken inside? The ugly snap returned. He even felt it this time. How could that be? He could not hear or feel inside his head. Folly.
Kiko saw the flash. It did not belong. The murky gloom of evening had fallen, but there was something shining past the mouth of the cave. She moved closer, keeping a vigilant eye on the surroundings. Her knowledge of the forest was more extensive now. There were confusing tracks in the wet earth. Some were; quite obviously, human. Among them, though were smaller prints of a four legged animal. She could identify both of those, beside those two distinct marks, however, were the broader feet of someone or something wearing no shoes, and walking on two very large feet.
Curiosity overpowered caution, she had even forgotten about looking for her brother, she barely knew him these days anyway. This new puzzle was more enthralling. Kiko entered the cave, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She had gone maybe halfway in when she heard horrible sounds that should have been words.
Flee.
Now.
Before it is too late.
Then his eyes gleamed from the space. Katsurou lifted his head up from his palm mouth wet with…
Katsurou?
She stuttered out the word, her eyes were glued to a stack of corpses taller than the brother she knew.
Kiko?
The voice that spoke her name was harsh and halting, as if he could not quite wrap his mouth around it.
No. Don’t think of it. Don’t look. Her eyes slammed shut. They did not stay shut. They adjusted to the darkness, too well, too. Blood. It was all over his mouth and fell from his fist in a steady stream.
Where have you been? Everyone is looking for you.
Keep talking. Kaminari, please keep him talking. What was she going to do? Work her way around him? Leave him here? Her eyes flipped back to the corpses and a shuddering fear took hold. She looked back at him. Why had she ever thought being the beast of legend would help? He was terrifying to look upon, a massive amount of muscle was packed on to a frame she barely recognized, and she hadn’t even gotten to his face. Broad ears sprouted from the top of his head, along with a shock of reddish black fur running down his temples and out into a wide muzzle.
They will not find me. I’m sorry Kiko. I wanted to spare the family. I am not strong enough. I cannot do it.
His voice changed. He dropped the wet hand on her shoulder and shoved the Wolf sword into her fist.
You have to do it. Please.
Do what? What do I have to do?
Kiko shook her head at him. She had been avoiding them all for too long. Surely she would have known otherwise, wouldn’t she? She would have seen the signs, guilt and regret strangled her heart. He was holding her hand cruelly tight.
Cut off my head. Do it now before anyone else dies.
He knelt on the ground before her, head bent and she could see the fur that matched his face running down his back. Tears fell from her eyes to soak it. He wouldn’t make her do this. Would he? But, the sword came down. She could not hesitate, not and save him from shame. Kiko dug his grave with her bare hands and the rest of her sanity was buried in the shallow hole with him.
She fed the rage in a thousand ways and hundred new places. She put her swordwork to anyone that would hire her, hoping each job would be the last. But, the Kaminari winds kept pushing her ever westward, and the Wolf sword kept her alive.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell suffered the beatings, the scorn and the resentment. He ached through the pain of a cruel family, of a father that felt to have a heart of stone. The beast whispered through this, it wanted to be fed, it took the misery and the pain, both physical and emotional and started to churn. Turning harder now.
She had tried her hardest, she had worked as best she could and in that there was no failure. Grayell marvelled at the spirit of the woman he knew, he felt her purity so young and a head and heart full of dreams and aspirations. She only wanted to succeed and all she knew was scorn, the only attention she garnered was a beating. That... angered him. Outside he rolled in the muck, his back lifting and then shuddering as he collapsed once more, hands wound tight beside his face. This was unfair and worse still, cruel. It was not right. Her beast called him, wanted to lash out.
Her soul poured into that lake in the rain, her heart bled her sorrow into it and left nought but an open wound, an empty pit and he felt sick. The rain brought no comfort, not as he had known it, it washed away nothing for Kiko. The harsh treatment continued, she was abused and discarded like so much trash. Her father was a monster to him now and that enraged him, the bastard had no right. His own children were torn from him, to see a man so callous treat her this way.... the beast growled. Outside, Grayell groaned and pulled his knees under him, his hands slamming to the ground. His back heaved, his eyes were unseeing and rolled in his head. He was close. Zaedus would know it.
There was running, much running, a leaving, a refusal to do this any more. It was sombre, but her beast bordered on feral, they were beating it out of her. Vision came to him in heavy swoons, receding again into darkness, another ragged breath and another step onward. This forest was an escape but not a home. He felt the cold night, the freezing winters, the endless struggle to survive as he too had known... and the total emptiness, the resolute decision to be without them all. It shouldn't have come to that, they were alive; they could have done better. This was not a family, this is not how it should be and at their cruel expense was a young woman, dying inside. He groaned, his head pounded and buzzed, the beast was holding it's sway and he could not reason this. There was no reason. It was just wrong. The Beast snapped at his heels now, snarled in anticipation and he could not fight it, he could not so much as feel it. Outside, Grayell lifted from the muck with a scream and slammed down again, sobbing in the dread muck.
Katsurou. A harsh fate. She had loved him. She had thought of him often enough, though thoughts and feelings were splayed about the ground like an upturned game of Mahjong. He had become feral, what she dreaded. This was the face of the beast and still, there was some little hope. He had reason - one last effort and he asked now the impossible. The dread that overcame him, the screaming through his senses; the refusal to acknowledge he'd even asked...
The beast wanted blood. It hungered for it. It said take him, do as he asked and revel in it. Grayell denied it, screamed in his mind, would not let this be. Outside, he fell back, scrambling wildly in the dark, feeling from this... and could not. He collapsed on his back, hyperventilating now; empty eyes cast to the sky.
The blade fell as did his brother's head and the beast laughed, it scorned him. He was broken. Darkness.
In an eternity that swam in his mind, a voice broke the silence. It was his own.
He opened his eyes, tired from sobbing and looked into the dark and something turned on, a light. A hope.
No.
From the ink that pooled about it he rose, a feral, savage embodiment of himself. His eyes glowed red now, his teeth were fierce, his claws stained with blood. This is what he could be.
"Time we talked."
Don't bother. You will not take me now. You have nothing left to show me.
The shadow was thin, wiry, but cunning and savage. White fur stained with red covered it, red eyes studying as it nonchalantly stalked around him. It grinned, snapping at him.
Get up. Miserable whelp. You're a predator. Act like one.
It sat just in front of his face, an amused look in its eyes.
Grayell's mouth soured and his head rolled back to look down his nose at the beast. There was little left in his eyes now, he was cold. Hardened. He'd endured much and at this point, was set in stone. But that was a last defence to stop him crumbling.
He dragged himself to his feet and looked at it, disgusted.
It shook its head, getting up to walk around him again.
No...no, do not kneel. Do not ever kneel. You don't need to show me respect. You are a predator, boy. A killing machine. You need nothing but to sate your hunger....your lust. Any way you can. It paused, looking at him out of the corner of its eye.
Do you deny your urges? Look at me and tell me you don't...like it. The hunt. The blood. The...prey.
This is what the human in you tells you to say. To keep a hold on your humanity. The Wolf isn't noble. The Wolf doesn't thank. That's what humans tell themselves, projecting false emotions and insecurities on an animal that knows nothing but hunger and cold and hardship. It sat again, in front of him.
You are leaving your human side behind. Every day you feel it drop away. Every minute you lose a little more of your sanity. In your soul, deep in the mind of the Wolf...you want her. Want to be with her. All she wants is the Wolf in you, and not your humanity. If you let it drop away, embrace the beast...you won't have to deal with any of it. Simple. Feral. Strong. It grinned.
The mage. The warrior. Both spurned your advances. Your lust was not sated, and they so cruelly teased you. And you took it. For what? Your humanity? You're a weak runt, Grayell. You always were. If you let it fall away, become the Alpha she wants you to be...you'll have at least something to your forgotten, meaningless name.
Grayell trembled. Just a little. His cheeks bulged ever so slightly, muscles writhing over the corner of his jaw. But his eyes did not move. He remained silent for a time. Centred.... no. Not that easy now.
She wants me for murder. I am just a weapon to her. She does not care for me, she cares for power.
No. I won't be that. I will end it first.
The mage, the warrior.... sure. I failed. I was wrong. Maybe I am not worth their love. Maybe I am not worth the love of anyone.
But you're not a wolf. You are not so humble or so pure.
He looked down and breathed deep. This was... stirring his anger. But he held it. He had to.
I had love once. It was perfect, this you also know. My life was whole. I wanted nothing more.
You were a beast long before then. You had the soul of the Wolf and denied yourself, tying yourself down with human emotions, human obligations. Its voice got more severe and taunting, and it seemed to grow a little.
The Wolf doesn't need purity, or humility. It values power. She does love your power, your strength. As much as a Wolf can. But so long ago? She did not. She didn't know. You were fooling yourself, and when I came and freed you, let you run with the Wolves, took away your chains... It laughed.
Kiko had fallen to her knees on the podium. She had almost given up, her head was falling into her chest and her eyes were fogged from bitter fatigue. But her shoulders stiffened her nails dug pulled away from her skull.
The pain was still there, sharp scars on the surface of her heart, but the open wounds were sealing up. Each memory she had given him bolstered her resolve until she had regained her feet.
It was not a strong stance, her knees were weak as a newborn, but the memories were receding. Her voice was soft inside his head.
Wolf. Do not listen. The shadow is wrong. The alpha does not value power. He is powerful because his strength is born from his knowledge of the pack and his surroundings. The wolf cares for family before self. This one is selfishly blind and in the end will not survive.
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
Grayell sneered now and his hands were bunched, trembling at his sides. He wanted to lash out, he wanted to shut it up. He knew that would be to fail, he knew he could not resolve this in that manner. His voice was hoarse, wavering.
NO. I ran with the wolves because I had no other home. I had no family any longer. Oh, I knew it was grand, to feel and hear the heart and breath of nature...
... but it was a lie. YOU are a lie. For all the false purity, for all that wrong belonging, you wanted nothing but death. ALL OF IT. The wolves, the animals, the plants the air - you don't belong. You wanted me to not belong and you got that much. You couldn't destroy it all, you couldn't see it burn. I was ousted.
But you, you got NOTHING FROM ME. You have nothing.
YOU ARE NOTHING.
You are a babe, lost in the dark with not so much as a mother's teat for comfort. No, you feed on fear...
.... because you are afraid. You know this as well.