Direction (Solo)

After travelling down a long road from Amegakure, Kazuo stood at the edge of a mountain pass, a familiar one indeed, for this was the place that Kazuo stood all those years ago, on the day that Aika had been executed. The day he’d planned his revenge, this was the place where he stood. The day that he’d watched his life fall apart, and the day that he’d planned his revenge. The day that he’d met Yuumei.


”You know, it’s rude to talk about people when they aren’t there.” Rang her voice in the back of his mind. Staring out into the distance, Kazuo didn’t reply. He was too far gone from his own mind to hear her. ”Hey, is this thing on? Can you hear me...? That was a joke, Kazuo, I know you literally can’t NOT hear me. Say something. Come on. Are you still mad about the thing with that Kumogakure kid? I was just looking out for you. Sometimes you and your stupid honor gets you into dangerous situations, and I can’t just sit there and let that happen, now can I? If you die, I die too, after all. Kazuo?” Babbled Yuumei, all while Kazuo stared into the empty space ahead. ”Kazuo?”


”My honor was all I had left, Yuumei.” He said finally. ”Stripped of my title, my rank, and my dignity, the only thing I had to cling onto was my honor. You took that from me, too.” Said Kazuo wistfully.

”I think you’re overreacting, Kazuo. You have me, after all.” Yuumei responded.

”Oh, of course, how could I forget about the voice in my head that tried to control my mind whenever I try to retain my dignity.” Kazuo retorted. Yuumei seemed at a loss for words. ”What purpose do I have to exist, Yuumei? I’m a warrior with no cause. Branded a criminal for actions I didn’t take, actions that were affirmed when you forced me to kill that kid, Johan.” He snapped, forcibly drawing his blade. Constructed from his own Yuumei, this blade was effectively the physical embodiment of Yuumei.


”Kazuo, what are you doing?” Yuumei shrieked, exerting every ounce of control she had over him in an attempt to stop him. Wincing from the added weight, Kazuo willed his blade out ahead of him, turning it slowly, until it faced his chest.


”The only thing left for me to do. It’s been fun, Yuumei, but I don’t think I can bear the shame any longer.” Kazuo smiled, inching the blade slowly towards his heart. His hands were visibly shaking against the force of will exerted on him by Yuumei, but gradually, his hands managed to pull the wickedly sharp blade ever closer, as the seconds ticked away, leading closer and closer to his own death.


A blast of Yuumei emitted from the blade, sending Kazuo flying backwards, and his blade falling over the edge of the cliff face, into the woods below. Kazuo felt himself pulled into the mindscape of Yuumei, a place he had not been in years, now. Everything went white, and Kazuo was blinded.


It all went white for a while, and then dark. Slowly, Kazuo’s vision returned. He was sitting at a familiar, large, ornate table, with a white tablecloth covering it. On the other side of the table was a young girl, about his age. Her hair was blonde, her skin was fair, and she looked oddly perfect to be a normal person. Kazuo tried to look around, but the area around him was completely white, it was impossible to see anything. It was as if nothing but the table and the two chairs existed. He rubbed his head, looking to the girl.


”Wow, you’ve really done a lot with the place since I’ve visited.” Kazuo muttered sarcastically. The blonde across the table seemed annoyed.

”What the hell is wrong with you?” She snapped. Kazuo stared at her, stone cold. ”I let you keep your stupid honor, I spared that stupid kid, I let you risk your life for no reason whatsoever, I get you your revenge, I give you time to mourn, and then I save your ass before you can get both of us killed, and now you want to just off yourself? By the abyss, you might just be the dumbest fucking Shinkou I’ve ever seen! You disregard your gifts and decide to stick to your swords, which would be fine, I guess, if you didn’t insist on running into fights with Shinobi at every opportunity!” She raved, unhinged.


”You act really high and mighty for somebody who has done nothing but made my situation worse.” Kazuo retorted, standing up from the table and forcing himself from the mindscape. He stood atop the mountain once more, alone. ”But I’ll humor you, since I don’t have anything left. What do you suggest I do?” Kazuo asked. Yuumei was silent for a while.


”You need to return to the abyss.” She said. Kazuo scoffed.

”As helpful as that is, I have no fucking clue what this “Abyss” is, or how I get there, or why. You need to stop being so damn cryptic.” He snapped.

”Go to your mother, Kazuo. She can tell you more.” Said Yuumei, quite somber.

”What are you talking about? If I go down there, you know exactly what will happen.” Kazuo argued, confused now. ”Why don’t you just tell me what you’re playing at?” He demanded. Yuumei said nothing. For once, she was silent.


It was just Kazuo, now. Alone to his thoughts. He stared out at his former home. He wondered how she expected him to slip in there, the place where he was no doubt public enemy #1. He wondered if she was trying to kill him for the briefest of moments, but dismissed the thought from his mind. She’d just saved him from taking his own life, it made very little sense to undo that now. He thought about continuing on as he had, but he knew he no longer had the will to end it all, at least not that way. And besides, it had been years now since he’d seen his mother.


Sliding down the side of the mountain, as he had many years ago, on this same path, he ventured out, this time not for revenge, but for clarity, for closure. He didn’t know why he chose to listen to his Yuumei now, but he couldn’t rest until this quest was put to a finish. Life or death, at least he might get to see his mother.


At the bottom of the cliff face, he retrieved his blade, which had embedded itself into a nearby rock. Pulling the blade from the stone, he returned it to its home within its sheathe, catching his reflection in the flat of the blade as he did so. He stared at himself for a moment, how old he’d grown, how long it had been since he’d returned. Kazuo was 25 years old, and he had now spent the majority of his adult life as a criminal, exiled from home for a crime he did not commit. How ironic it was that the wrongs the elders had committed upon him had driven him to carry out the very misdeeds he’d been accused of.


At the edge of the forest, Kazuo made a few hand seals, his body changing into a blonde girl, exactly as Yuumei herself appeared to him. It was ironic, but he felt that it was fitting.


As he, or now, she, walked through the clearing towards the small village, a familiar feeling washed over him as he crossed the site of his last battle here, and he felt himself growing dizzy. He held his head and stood still to steady himself, but he heard the clashes of blades and clangs of metal, the screams of dying opponents as his memory seemed to spin a tale that he’d heard too many times before.


“...What was that?” Came a voice. Shit. He’d been heard. Three men waded through the grass to get to him. Kazuo… He knew those men. He couldn’t kill them. Sheathing his sword, he crawled through the grass, keeping absolutely silent. One of the men walked close to him, and Kazuo grabbed the man’s ankle, pulling him to the ground, and striking the back of his head, knocking him out. He tossed a stone to his right, disappearing under the grass again, moving quickly through the grass to the next guy.

“The hell was that?” Said one of them, just as Kazuo emerged from the grass, smashing their heads together, and knocking them out. He disappeared in the grass once more, heading towards the village. He scaled the wall quickly, hiding in an alley as a patrol passed by. He slipped through the streets, avoiding the patrols, until he was at the window of his target’s house. He stepped silently into the room, moving towards the bed, where his target lay, sleeping. He drew his sword quietly, advancing slowly towards the bed.

“Stop!” Someone shouted. Kazuo turned. Three men stood in the doorway, swords drawn.

“Assassin!” One of them shouted. Kazuo backed towards his target. The men advanced in the room. He was hosed… shit. He put his sword to his target’s neck, threatening to kill him if they got close. They stopped, but this was a bad bluff. He was killing him anyway. He pulled the blade across his neck, ending his life, before charging the men down. The first rose his blade for a stab, which Kazuo deflected, pushing his own blade through his chest, and spinning around, throwing the body into another opponent, knocking him over. He clashed swords with the one remaining man, forcing his weight on the blade, before leaning back as far as he could, pulling his blade away, dropping his back to the floor, and kicking him in the chest. He jumped back up to his feet as the man crashed through the wall, unable to react in time to Kazuo, who leaped through a window, grabbing a record book off the desk as he went. Crashing through the glass, he made it to street level, rolling across the ground. He turned hard to the right, sprinting through the streets, taking random turns to confuse his adversaries. As he neared the gates, he felt an arrow pierce his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Slowly getting to his feet, he noticed he was beginning to be surrounded, and felt another arrow pierce his thigh, knocking him over again. He gritted his teeth and pulled himself to his feet, trying to make it through the gates. Another arrow hit him, but he kept running. Another arrow hit his back, this one with a rope attached, intended for pulling him. He grabbed the rope, yanking the archer off the roof. How annoying. He turned to face the army of swordsmen that had chased him down, drawing his blade quickly. From the mass of swordsmen, one man advanced ahead, as the others blocked his path...



Kazuo, in Yuumei’s body, snapped back to his senses, shaking his head. This battle was one that never stopped playing in his head. He could never take back what he’d done, the childhood friends he’d mercilessly slaughtered for his revenge. Strangely, he didn’t feel like he cared. It didn’t bother him anymore, especially with the death of Neku.


He was at the gates now, and nobody seemed to notice him. They all had better things to do. A few steps down the cobbled streets, and he’d turn the corner, as he always had so many years ago. He thought about his time here, his time with Miyamoto and with Aika.


When he became a Samurai, he was considered the “Off brand” kid, the one nobody wanted in their group, but loved watching, because as funny as he was, as good at entertaining people he was, he was not good at the whole “Teamwork” thing. He was deemed an ineffective warrior, and discharged from the training for not being able to work with others…. Pah. Luckily, Miyamoto saw something in the kid, and took him under his wing as his apprentice. Kazuo did not now what he did to attract the man’s attention, and Miyamoto would never tell him. Now he was gone, and he would never know. He’d sell his soul to know that simple answer, but now he’d never know. What quality did he have that stuck out to the wise old man? What was special about him?



Over time, Miyamoto worked miracles on Kazuo, turning him into a man in less then a year. The man was a genius, and for every exercise of the body, there were two of the mind. That kind of training tends to rub off on your personality, though the attention-hog in Kazuo still showed itself quite a lot. Not so much that he was irritating or unable to share the spotlight, but enough to make him still interesting. He had transformed as a person. Everyone was amazed by the transformation. A girl he met at one of Miyamoto’s formal parties, which he was required to attend, basically as his squire, to do menial tasks for him when requested. Aika had been there with her parents, standing in the corner of the room, mingling with people she was clearly uncomfortable with. She noticed him, from across the room that night, as he had evolved into a young man, compared to what he was in school. It was miraculous. It was impressive. She fought through the crowd, trying all night to talk to him. He, sadly, was forced to follow Miyamoto all night, as Miyamoto was a very social person, and everyone else thought Aika SHOULD be a social person, so took it upon themselves to keep her away from Kazuo by holding long, pointless conversations with her, with no hope of escape.

She was so impressed, in fact, that she found she was quickly falling in love with him. After catching on rather quickly (Being watched training by the same girl every day will do that to you.) Kazuo soon developed the same feelings, and after a few more months, and substantial pushing on the part of Miyamoto, who turned out to be quite the love doctor, working together with the girl’s friends to put them in situations where they’d be required to acknowledge each other’s feelings, the two finally confessed to each other and began dating…


As waves of nostalgia rushed through him, he hardly noticed that his feet were now resting upon the doorway to his old house. Here he was. The old Kemuri residence. This was the place that his mother and father had lived. This was the place that he lived. This was home.


A nervous knock yielded no response. He waited a few minutes, then knocked again.


”You won’t find anyone in there, young lady.” Came a voice. ”The people that used to live there turned tail years ago, left the place abandoned.” It continued. Kazuo turned to face an old man. Miyamoto’s brother, in fact. The sight of his face, so similar to that of his master, gave Kazuo pause. He was speechless for a moment. He tried his best not to give himself away.


”O-oh, is that so?” Asked Kazuo, nodding politely. ”I had no idea. Do you know where I might find them?” He asked. The old man shook his head solemnly.

”Sorry, no luck. There’s some sort of seal over the door, we haven’t been able to pry it open.” He said, gesturing to the black swirl over the front. ”What’s got you so curious? Did you know them?” He asked. Kazuo shook his… Or… Her… Yes, her head. ”Oh, no, I was just visiting the neighborhood.” Kazuo lied. The man smiled and bid him farewell, leaving Kazuo there, at the door to his old home. He knew this seal. His mother was quite fond of Fuinjutsu. Slipping a blade from his belt, slightly parting it from the sheathe, he pricked his finger on the blade until it drew blood (Which wasn’t hard, as Darksong was insanely sharp.)


Placing his bloodied hand against the seal a satisfying click of the door unlocking greeted Kazuo. Nervously, he twisted the doorknob, pushing the old thing open. His house was almost just as he remembered it, though it was darkened and dusty, from years of disuse. Stepping inside, he trailed his hand along the walls of his home. On the table, a purple, leather bound book lay sealed. He recognized it. His mother’s journal.


He picked it up and slipped it open, staring expectantly into the pages. He flipped through, and took in each word. She’d fled the village after his father had been killed under suspicion of aiding in his escape. She’d left this here and sealed it away should Kazuo return and find it. Enclosed were directions to a village known as the Abyss....


”Come to the Abyss. Your Yuumei will guide you.” Said the pages, and Kazuo felt as if the map upon them was inscribed into his mind. He knew the way now. He’d always known the way. Tucking the book into his coat, he stepped out of the old house, shutting the door quietly behind him. Making his way outside the small village where he’d grown up, he didn’t look back.


For the first time, he never looked back.


”Yuumei, are you there?” He asked.

”I never left.” She said. ”Just fell asleep.”

”Good. We’re going home. To our real home. To the Abyss.”


(TWC: 3,048)
(Exit)

Using the 25% reduction so

3,048/3750 words to Meigan Satori (The rest will be done in the Abyss)

If you could link what you're training I can slap an approval on this.

Done

Approved.