38 Days [Solo Training]

[Zatoshi Kizukara]

38 Days prior

West 53rd District, Datonzai village

Blood dripped from him rhythmically. The smears left by his hands on the glass of the lamp threw shadows against his home. He crept inside as a stranger would. The floorboards groaned with his passing and bore his crimson trail until the washroom door closed behind him, darkness swallowing the house once more. He set the lamp down and lit another, an andon in the corner, before leaning his bloodied face over a basin of water. With a rag he carefully cleaned the wound, wincing at the first touch but none following.

“Zatoshi?” A small voice turned his head. Miku, his younger sibling peered at him, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the cracked door, lingering in the threshold. He paused. “What are you doing awake, Miku?” When she didn’t respond he caught a glimpse of his reflection. “Don’t worry about this, okay? Just go back to sleep, I’ll be fine.”

“What happened?” Her voice remained anxious. He stiffened, and his words took a slight edge. “I said don’t worry about it. Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” It was a relief when the door slid shut and left him in the silence and flickering light. He continued cleaning the wound, and bound it with a roll of bandages, occluding the vision from his right eye. When he finally settled down to sleep in the witching hours his mind was roiling.

Questions about the future flashed before him as well as questions about what answers had died tonight, expelled their last breaths with his adversaries. The idea that he wasn’t bothered by what happened still managed to bother him. He found himself nonplussed entirely by the death dealt. In some way he felt better than before. Like it was a release of some kind, something he’d been waiting for for all of his life.

Was there any turning back? He didn’t know. Tales of man-eating predators that took one taste and were hooked resounded in his mind. How different was he? He didn’t feel any violent urge lurking in his mind, but now that he knew the capacity was there, would he in the future? Perhaps the next time someone annoyed him there would live a voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he could shut them up permanently. Perhaps it would remind him of that feeling; of passion freezing over, and a chill superiority as being the one who lived while they died.

When he managed to quiet his mind he slept better than he ever had in recent memory.

[Zatoshi Kizukara]

37 Days Prior

West 53rd District, Datonzai village

Zatoshi rose when the sun hit his eye through the window next to his bed. There was no exercise today it seemed. His wound felt sore, crusted to his bandages. He dragged himself from bed and got changed. Greeting the day he stepped into the sun. Miku and Miyo were sitting in front of the house already. Usually they would be playing around the house as he came home from training about now. It seemed joy was absent from his home. Miyo, the older sibling of the two, stood but struggled to find words. His older brother could be prickly at times.

“Big bro... Is everything okay?” He asked. Must of not been able to find a better way to ask than to just ask. “Yes.” Zatoshi said with a frown. “You two do your chores and then go play. I have to head to Old Lady Kamato to get this looked at.” He walked down the step across the grass towards the heart of the village. The silence between them made him stop before he could pass. He sighed and planted his hands on his hips. “Stop looking so worried. I just said everything is okay. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, Big bro!” Miyo insisted immediately. “It’s just that... You got that from those two men, didn’t you?”
“They won’t bother you or I again. It’s handled - that’s all you need to know,” Zatoshi said as he placed his hand on Miyo’s head. “Okay?” Miyo digested this for a moment before nodding. “Okay...”
“Attaboy. Now your chores. Keep your sister out of trouble and keep your chin up.” Zatoshi ruffled his hair before walking passed. It was a decent walk to his destination. Their house stood at the village’s very edge; an aging small home nestled into a grove of hemlocks. His walk took him by a dirt path along the edge of the lake. He found his eyes drifting across it, and felt gratitude when he realized the cattails grew tall enough at the water’s edge to occlude their campsite from this side.

The walk took him by the wharfs at which he worked. At this time of morning his fellow fishermen were setting up their boats, preparing their netting and equipment for the day. He knew all of them by name, having lived and worked here for years. He still knew few of them on a personal level. “By the fates, Zatoshi what happened to you?” The question was posed by Tosaka, the senior of his boat as he stepped over ropes and rigging. Zatoshi didn’t slow down, raising a hand. “Nothing. Just an accident. I won’t be heading out with you today, I need to see old lady Kamato.”

“I heard he went out with a bokken to confront the two strangers that were out yesterday. What, they teach you a lesson?” Yachiro, a peer on his boat, called over with a laugh. Zatoshi and him could not be called friends. He stopped on the path, casting a venomous look over at him.
“I wouldn’t call it that.” His voice was flat and cold.
“Oh? And why is that?” Yachiro jeered, standing from stowing a rope under the deck.
“Because they’re dead now.”
Everyone on his boat stopped working. Yachiro’s smile faded. Tosaka made his way over, grabbing Zatoshi’s upper arm. “You can’t be serious, Zatoshi.”

He jerked his arm away from Tosaka’s grip. “Don’t touch me.” He growled through his teeth. “I’ll be back to work tomorrow.” He started walking again before he could be harrowed with questions. He left his team in a stunned silence. Zatoshi was known to be a number of things. Harsh, stand-offish, confrontational, even brave. None imagined him as a killer though. Before last night Zatoshi wouldn’t have imagined it himself.

The rest of the way into town was much the same; few greeted him with more than a nod. Zatoshi held very few friends. He was lucky that he could count Kamato among that number. He stepped into her home off of the street into the smell of burning rapeseed lamps and incense. She sat at a table with a pot of tea steaming and a cup held in her wrinkled hands. “Zatoshi? That looks nasty. Business then?”


“Yes.” Zatoshi sighed, sitting across from her. “I’m afraid I have use of your needle-work.” He invited himself to her tea without asking, pulling a cup from a small stack on the table.
“Mind if I ask how you came by the wound?” She asked in an even tone, holding his eye contact. “I do,” Zatoshi responded as he poured his cup. She didn’t expect him to answer differently. “Well - if I’m not to be paid in conversation, I’ll take my pay in ryo.” She said with admonishment present in her tone as she stood. Across the room she opened a cabinet to retrieve a small wooden case.
“I mean nothing by it, Kamato. People talk and I’m afraid I have already sowed enough gossip today.” She laughed. “Careful Zatoshi - you don’t want to offend your physician. You don’t believe I know how to keep confidence?” She placed the case on the table, removing a curved needle from the stack and threading it. Zatoshi raised an eyebrow as he set his cup down.
“I worry that most days you have nothing better to do than talk. Am I wrong?”

She gave him a leer, biting the thread off at the base of the knot. “I still know what would be appropriate conversation. I’d like to say we have been friends for a very long time, Zatoshi. If I’m just an old rumor mill to you I’d say that we understand each other less than I’d thought. Take off that bandage.” Zatoshi frowned, averting his gaze as he started to unwind them from around his head. As he made his way down to the last wraps they began to stick and pull painfully. He winced and hissed, but continued carefully until he had to rip sharply to bring it away from the wound. She clicked her tongue at the sight of it.

“Not a pretty wound...” She set the needle down in favor of a small curved knife. “I’m going to have to remove some of this scabbing if it’s going to stitch properly.” Zatoshi nodded before holding still. “I’m sorry, Kamato. I didn’t mean it that way. I guess if I were being more honest I’d say that I didn’t want to talk about it because of the shame I feel.” She placed a hand on the side of his head to steady her work, but raised an eyebrow at him once more. “Zatoshi Kizukara - feeling shame? That’s unusual. And with a sword wound to accompany it. You’re lucky you didn’t lose this eye, by the way.” She laughed as she noted the surprise on Zatoshi’s features as she culled the scabbing in the wound. “I’ve been a physician for many years, Zatoshi. So what then? You’re ashamed that you picked a fight poorly? The two strangers that were in town yesterday I presume.”

Zatoshi’s features settled into stone. “If it were just that it wouldn’t trouble me much. I killed them, Kamato. Both of them.” Her hands paused.
“Why?” He started to shrug and she gripped the top of his head firmly. He sighed. “Because they were trying to kill me.”
“So then it couldn’t be avoided.”
“But it could have been. That's part of what bothers me. I sought them out, I picked a fight with them. I just didn’t think things would go that far.” Zatoshi exhaled as though a weight was lifting off his chest with his confession.

“You didn’t hear that they were wearing swords in town?” Kamato asked as she resumed her work. Zatoshi frowned.
“No, Miyo didn’t tell me about that. He said that they stole the money I gave him for sweets.”
“Ah, I see. So it looks to you as though you killed them over money.” Kamato said with a calm understanding in her voice.
“Didn’t I?”
“No. The way I see it you were standing up to protect your younger brother. Something that I would say is much more consistent with the Zatoshi I know. And this was only part of what was bothering you?”

He was silent as she cut away at a deep scab, a wince on his features as the knife would stick and tug in its motions. “Yeah... It felt right, Kamato. Killing them. It felt good. I think I actually slept better last night after I did it... And I don’t know what that makes me.” Kamato set the knife back down with a scowl. “It makes you a man, Zatoshi. Men have their vices be it drinking, gambling, whoring or fighting. What makes a good man is self restraint and seeing their demons rather than pretending they don’t exist.”

“Can it really be conflated with that? Drinking, gambling, whoring -- whatever. A vice is normally self-destructive, can you really normalize killing to that? It seems like I’m a demon, not that I have them.” Zatoshi asked as he looked her in the eye. She picked up her suture, returning the look. “I don’t think a demon cares much for examining the morality of their actions, Zatoshi. You’re being dramatic. You’ve done nothing wrong and you have nothing to be ashamed of.” That got a sharp sigh of frustration from him.

“I just don’t think it’s that simple, Kamato. You don’t know me like I know me. I have to live now knowing that I could kill and enjoy it. I already wish half the people in this village wouldn’t speak to me - what am I going to wish for next time they do?”
“Zatoshi, more than half the village already avoids speaking to you. I think if you’ve gone this long without killing some of the more pratty neighbors here that you’ll manage.” She said with a chuckle. Her words managed to be some comfort to Zatoshi. Even as disturbing as his current state of mind was, a little gallows humor never failed to lighten the mood.

It didn’t take her long to finish her stitching. Practiced hands made for quick work. He stood after she finished. “Thank you, Kamato. For your work and your words.” He went for his coin purse but she raised a hand. “Just keep taking care of yourself for me, Zatoshi. And don’t bother covering that up. It’ll heal faster with some air.” He was reluctant about not paying her, but he knew the routine well enough by now. He bowed his head. “I hope you stay in good health as well.” He wished her before stepping out of the door.

Outside was something he was not expecting to see. A group of strangers were coming into the village. Some were on horseback. All were armed. Zatoshi froze for a moment with his mind reeling. They must have been affiliated with the two men they killed. But how could they know they were dead already? Did they? How long would it be before they found out Zatoshi killed them? Probably not long due to his own actions. His eyes snapped to the lake. The boats were already on the water. It’d be many hours before they came back ashore. So he had time.

He turned and slammed the door to Kamato’s back open, rattling her tea set. “Kamato - I need you to watch Miku and Miyo for a while -- I don’t know how long.” She could hear the urgency in his voice and rose to her feet. “Zatoshi? What is happening?”
“Look, I don’t have long to explain -- there’s more strangers here and I might have put them in danger. I have to leave the village for a while, just tell me if you can do it or not.” He said in a panic.
“Of course I can, Zatoshi. Go. Run.”

He turned to do just that, but a stranger on horseback trotted right up as he did. It was a man clad in O-yoroi, anciently styled armor. His face was hidden by a cloth pulled over his nose. Harsh brown eyes perched with crows feet looked down at him, a spear in his hand on the far side of the horse.
“That’s quite the wound you have there. Fresh, isn’t it?” He said indicating the stitched line that spanned over Zatoshi’s right eye. Zatoshi froze there in place with his hands forming fists by his sides. “Fishing accident.” He replied in a stiff tone. “Must have been one hell of a fish, eh?”

The silence hung at that question. The man turned his horse in the street in a half circle, his spear looming closer to Zatoshi.
“Don’t suppose you’ve seen a couple of men - they’d be strangers here. Carried swords like we do.”
Zatoshi shook his head. “Not at all. Sorry I can’t help you.” The man regarded him silently for a few long moments. His spear hung from his grasp, tip down by his horse’s side. Just a short motion could thrust it Zatoshi’s way. “Very well. Have a good day.”

“You as well.” And with that the horseman kicked his horse into a trot back towards the rest of the men down the street. Zatoshi turned as he left, his blood pounding in his ears. He had to get out of here, and fast. But where would he go? What would be the point? He couldn’t abandon Miku and Miyo forever. He’d have to return some day, but what if they too returned?

He had to get stronger. Had to become capable of protecting Miku and Miyo from these thugs. So long as they were associated with him he was sure they would be in danger. So where then? The Shinigami Academy. He was spiritually active, he knew that much from the hunger pains. To become a soul reaper though? He had never thought it would be something he would pursue. He didn’t exactly play nice with others, and being stuck in a hierarchical organization, beholden to someone just because he was told to be? It didn’t sit right with him, but he didn’t see a whole lot of better options. He had to leave and get stronger, or die. Abandoning his siblings permanently wasn’t an option.

---

The horseman trotted back to his gang, looking over his shoulder as the man he’d spoken to turned to walk down the street. “Hakuman, Ying. Follow him and as soon as he’s alone I want him brought down. Alive if possible.” His voice called across to a pair of men, one of them carrying a spear. They nodded and immediately began to follow their target. “It’s going to rain soon.” The horseman said, turning his eyes to the overcast sky. “If Kimura and Konto were killed and buried, the rain is good for washing away shallow graves.”

Another man on horseback drew close. “You don’t really think that guy could pull that off, do you? Just another peasant serf.” He said and spat to the side. The first looked back down at him, his brow furrowed. “Unfortunately I do. You didn’t get as close as I did. That guy’s spiritual pressure is abnormal. Double, maybe triple what you’d feel from some bumbling idiot who gets hungry from time to time. And that wound? It was definitely from a weapon. If he’s still walking around after Kimura and Konto attacked him it’s pretty safe to say that they aren’t.”

“What?” The second hissed. “What is he then? Some hidden badass wasting his life in a fishing village? You have to be joking.” The first shook his head. “Nothing like that I’m sure. The guy definitely isn’t your average peasant though.”
“So why send only Hakuman and Ying? If he killed two of our guys, he could kill two more.”

“Because the more people follow him the larger the chance is that he’ll spot them and get spooked. Hakuman and Ying are our best scouts, if he sees them coming I’d be surprised. We’ll leave some people here to find out what happened to Kimura and Konto - and retrieve them if they’re still among the living. The rest of us are going to follow at a comfortable distance until Hakuman and Ying make contact. After that, we close in and finish the fight if we need to.” He looked around at the rest of them.

“Everyone get it?”

[Kitai Yoru]

I count 32 paragraphs, but the formatting makes it difficult to count them all. 160 TP awarded

[Zatoshi Kizukara]

Later that day

West 53rd District, Wilderness

Zatoshi’s footfalls came heavy and rapid. He tore through the forest in a run, the downpour of rain already saturating the ground into dangerously slick collections of mud. Some of it was so thick it resembled clay, sticking to his feet and pulling with him in clumps. He was lucky that he’d seen them following him as he took the eastern road out of town. After entering the forest he hadn’t seen them since. In truth he had no way of knowing if they were still following him, or how close they were if they gave chase.

As he came into a clearing his foot slid on a particularly slick patch of mud. He came sliding to the ground, cursing and full of piss and vinegar. As he pushed himself to his feet, he realized that the mud was creating a clear trail for his pursuers to follow. No matter how hard or how far he ran, if they were following him they’d be able to find him when he stopped. He had to find a way to make this work for him.

---

Hakuman had been tracking quarry of all kinds for years now. Man, beast, it didn’t particularly matter. Ying was essentially his apprentice, but there didn’t seem to be any teaching opportunities on this one. Like a frightened prey animal their mark chose to try cutting straight through the forest to evade them. When he saw the tracks left in the mud space apart and get deeper, he knew that either the mark was scared out of his mind from the encounter on the road, or he’d definitely seen them following at some point.

Either way the new structure of the trail meant one thing: the prey was running. He crouched beside the trail, examining it. “Ying. Run as fast as you can alongside the trail.”
“What? In this rain?” Ying scoffs. “You want me to bust my ass?” The look Hakuman gave him made him sigh and shrug. He huffed as he spread his feet apart and took a deep breath. He shuttled himself into a hard sprint for about ten meters before skidding to a stop.

“Shit.” Hakuman growled. Their mark’s trail was significantly deeper dug and farther spaced than the tracks Ying made. “Well, he’s faster than you on your best day, and he’s booking it.” He said as he stood. “He can’t keep that pace for long, but he’s still buying distance.” He frowned. That meant that the only way they were going to catch up was if they abandoned concealment and stuck to a straight line along the trail. Unlike tracking a deer in this manner, a man could be dangerous. He knew that tracking a man in a way that made you predictable could be a health hazard. If the boss was right and he did kill the two vanguards at the village yesterday, then this guy was dangerous indeed.

Still, he was unarmed. Further, if he thought he had a good chance of fighting, why would he be exhausting himself with a desperate escape? It didn’t track with the idea of a hardened killer. He nodded to Ying. “Stick close to the trail. We’ll need to find him before dark.” That was the other thing, tracking by lamp light wasn’t the best idea in this situation either.

They walked for about ten minutes following the trail. Their quarry kept a pretty straight path eastward so far, and Hakuman didn’t have a single idea where he could be trying to run. The next village that direction was at least 20 miles away. Between here and there was nothing but forest and worse, if he kept heading that direction the river would cut him off. He stopped suddenly, spotting a gloomy light through the trees ahead. A clearing. As they drew closer to the edge of the trees he saw what he was waiting to see. There was a large rut in the mud, a scramble of footprints, some of them smeared, and a trail leading onwards that had prints much closer together and shallower than before. “Looks like he fell here, got tired, started walking.” Hakuman said, nodding ahead. “I need you to cut around the clearing and head straight east. Keep off the line we’ve been traveling by at least three hundred meters. When you hit the river, loop back and start walking this direction. I’ll drive him in your direction and we’ll have him on both sides.”

Ying nodded. “Yes, sir.” He said, turning and putting a hand on his sword to run in that direction. Hakuman looked ahead with a steely gaze and began to follow the trail once more. As he made his way through the clearing he realized something was wrong. He was sensing an unfamiliar spiritual presence - no doubt his quarry’s, given his boss’ description of it - getting closer. He was drawing close then? He looked around and saw nothing, but ahead the clearing ended. The trail kept punching forwards into the trees. He could be waiting for him in the treeline then? He set a hand on his sword and considered yelling for Ying, but knew that would give away his counter ambush. He slowly started to edge forwards, drawing his sword and beginning to take a wide angle to look at the far side at the base of each tree.

---

Zatoshi had looped around back on his own trail. He’d thought his way through it and realized if they were following his trail he could know where they’d come from. He could ambush them, and maybe, just maybe if he was lucky, he could deal with his tail and continue his escape. It was the only option he could think of that wouldn’t end with him setting up camp somewhere to have his throat slit while he slept.

So he’d left the clearing, heading some distance into the trees before coming back around from the side of it, finding a puddle of mud and covering himself in it, laying down in the stagnant water with the rain beating down on him... And a jagged rock the size of a man’s head concealed under his chest. He heard their footsteps come and he didn’t dare move a single muscle. His heart thundered as he heard nothing. Then something miraculous happened.

The footsteps slowly began to pass him. He gave them time, trying to steady his heart rate through controlled breathing. After a dozen or more seconds had passed he slowly began to rise from the mud. He got to his knees and pulled the rock to his chest. Covered in mud as he was, he hardly looked like a person anymore. His eyes fixed on the man ahead of him. He had his flank perfectly.

His breath became shallow and constrained. Any effort he made to bestill his heart rate was in vain. This was it. Kill or be killed. He slowly crept forwards, the heavy rain serving to mask his movements. His mark drew his sword and he paused. He kept looking into the trees, starting to circle away from them. Zatoshi moved with him, slowly closing the distance and bringing the rock over his head.

That terrible moment mounted and Zatoshi was almost close enough to make the swing. The man began to turn and Zatoshi leapt into motion like a tiger springing from the underbrush. He shouted with rage and anger, swinging the rock down and catching the man in the side of the head with a horrible crack. He fell to the ground immediately with the blow.

A distressed and dazed groan of pain left his enemy as blood trickled from his temple, stunned, but Zatoshi already fell upon him, planting his knees on the man’s biceps to pin his arms to the ground. That rock came down again and again, sharp cracks becoming muffled thuds and wet, calamitous noises. With each strike the man’s legs jolted - until they didn’t.

Finally, Zatoshi dropped the rock to the side, his chest heaving. Blood, bits of hair and brain sloughed from the edge of the rock. If what was beneath him was once a face, it could no longer be described as such. It was a mash of blood, bone, skin, hair and gray matter, and yet he couldn’t take his eyes away. The sight pulled his mind in like an endless void.

He felt that feeling once more. The numbing chill that set in like an ice on his inflamed mind. He had won, and his prize was the privilege of drawing breath in this world while his enemy ceased to exist. Destroyed, conquered. This is what it felt like to be the victor in the most dire of stakes; A killer of men. This was who he was meant to be.

He pulled himself from his daze of bloodlust, realizing in time that he had seen two of them leaving town. There was still another somewhere out here and he needed to make himself scarce. This time he wouldn’t go unarmed. He pulled the man’s sword, sheathe and all, from his obi and tucked it under his own. He stood and took off towards the trees, stumbling at first as his mind continued to return in bits and pieces.

---

“This is taking too long. How come Hakuman and Ying haven’t made contact with this guy yet?” The second horseman growled. “If he gets away this will have been an entire waste of a day.”
“Exercise some patience, Gakim.” The first said with a scowl, settling his hat atop his head. “If he goes in this direction he’s cornering himself. Hakuman and Ying are probably just letting him do it.” Gakim huffed, still reeking of discontent.

The train of horses and men stopped as a messenger thundered up at a full gallop from behind. “Odai-sama, we’ve found Kimura and Konto. They were dead at their campsite on the far side of the lake. Murdered with one of their own swords, signs of a fight were present.” Thunder cracked overhead. “With their own--?” Odai spoke with bewilderment. He stopped himself. Ahead he could no longer feel Hakuman’s spiritual presence.

“Move ahead! Double time!” He shouted to the party as he spurred his horse into a full gallop. The group quickly followed, with Gakim pulling up hard alongside Odai. “It’s about time something got interesting!” He shouted with glee towards his boss. “I fucking can’t wait to gut this guy!”
Odai was forced to agree with his lieutenant. If this was as bad as it looked, then he would look forward to killing this stranger like the dog he was.

They rode through the forest hard, weaving through trees and undergrowth. A couple of the more unskilled riders found their horses losing traction and crashing to the ground in the heavy mud. The main body of men rode on, leaving them behind. Odai led the charge until they reached a clearing where he saw Ying crouching next to a motionless body in the field. He pulled off to the side to allow the others to ride forwards. Ying was in tears, crouching beside the body that used to be Hakuman.

“What happened?” He called down. Ying looked up, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath through his sobbing. “H-Hakuman had us split up to try and corner him. T-that fucker must have been waiting for him here... He bashed his head in with a rock, Odai-sama. Like a fucking animal!” The pain in his voice didn’t bear description. Odai looked upon the aftermath with a deep frown. He’d know Hakuman for a very long time. “We’ll find him, Ying. None of our men die unavenged. Stay with Hakuman for now. Get one of the men following behind to help you prepare him to be taken back for his funeral rites.”

“Y-yes, sir.” Ying choked out, before his grief overtook him and he bowed his head, sobbing over Hakuman’s corpse once more. Odai rode forwards to catch up to the rest of his men. He had come to a new decision. This stranger, whoever he was, Odai would not stop chasing him. Not until he was made to answer for his actions, and that would involve a great deal of pain.

The stranger's body would be strung up for all to understand what happened when someone crossed him like this. He regretted not gutting the bastard on the street earlier, he should have by all rights. He cursed his inclination towards finding the proof of the stranger’s crime first, cursed himself for not acting upon what he already knew at heart. He would never again display such mercy; Not after it cost the lives of his most loyal and steadfast men.

[Kitai Yoru]

24 paragraphs, 120 TP awarded.