The Devil On Your Shoulder

Ryou’s admission of defeat saw Kazuo’s blade retreat from its position, sheathed at his belt once again, each of his illusory arms following suit and sheathing their blades. The arms vanished into thin air, leaving Kazuo unarmed once again, save for one blade, in his right hand, held away from the boy. He would extend his hand, offering it to Ryou as he rolled over, and if accepted, he would pull the boy back to his feet.

”You fought well. That curse mark of yours can sure take a beating.” He commented. Granting the boy a moment to brush the snow that was inevitably covering him from getting positively white washed, he felt his own curse mark for a moment, satisfied that it seemed to have receded.

Good. He thought. I finally have some semblance of control over this damned thing. Yomi seemed positively infuriated, from the wave of emotions he was feeling blasted into his mind like a torrent of boiling water. He blinked, and his eyes lost their crimson glow, regaining his focus just as Ryou asked him what he had meant about understanding him.

”I meant that I, too, have a devil on my shoulder, Ryou.” He answered. ”Forgive me for the theatrics, but it might be easier if I were to show you.” He told Ryou, the purple-hilted blade singing in the air as he swung it in a small arc, his blades emitting a song once more, the illusion overtaking Ryou, if he chose not to resist.

”When I was a young man, fate played a cruel trick on me. The treacherous scum that ruled my village turned on my master, Miyamoto, and ordered his death behind closed doors.” Kazuo said, narrating as the scene was created before them both. Miyamoto was tall and proud, standing back to back with a younger Kazuo as assassins surrounded them. ”I came to the aid of my master, and we fought long and hard, but…” He continued, as the scene he created before them showed the two fighting against the assassins. Kazuo was caught in a trap, a mass of shadows held him immobile, helpless as he was knocked out and tossed aside by the advancing assassin, who stabbed Miyamoto in the back.

”I was not strong enough.” He said solemnly.

The scene shifted to an injured Kazuo carrying the corpse of Miyamoto, hobbling into the village, broken and bloodied. ”When I awoke, Miyamoto was dead. Determined to see him get a proper burial, I returned him to our home, but when I arrived…” He trailed off. Guards approached, swords drawn, and on the rooftops of the village, archers held bows drawn, ready to shoot and kill him. ”...I found that I was just a pawn in a sick game.”

”I was arrested. Sentenced to death for the murder of Miyamoto. I had been set up by the leaders of my village.” Kazuo said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion as the scene showed him locked up in a cell, gazing out the window and up to the mountain where they now stood. Behind him, someone stood at the bars of the cell, inserting the key and opening it wide. The two embraced. ”My betrothed, Aika, saved me from the death of a criminal. She gave me clothes to hide my face and the key to a shack atop the Three Wolves Mountain, and instructed me to go there and wait for her.” He narrated as the girl pointed up, through the window of the cell. The scene shifted once more.

”I made it to the mountains. Aika, however, was not so lucky.” He sighed, deciding not to show this particular scene.

Kazuo pointed out to the edge of the mountain, where a figure now stood, amid a mess of trees that had not been there before. A younger Kazuo, barely a man, stood there, his already-greyed hair a wild mess, his eyes the peculiar shade of indigo they had taken on before becoming hosts to the Meigan. The man stood there with his back to the two of them, and it was clear that he was weeping. He watched, helpless from above as an execution was carried out, far down below, in the village at the base of the mountain. His eyes were bloodshot, and he lashed out angrily at nearby trees, leaving massive gashes and leveling the woods, creating the clearing that they now stood in.  

”I watched, helpless, from my place atop the mountain, as they put Aika to death. There wasn’t a thing in the world that I could do to save her. Like that, my life might have been over, devoid of any hope or purpose.” He said solemnly, glancing back at his past self. ”That was when she came to me.” He said.

The illusory Kazo grasped his head in pain and slumped over, and the scene shifted, as if they were being pulled into Kazuo’s mind. Kazuo was sitting at a table, and his surroundings were an endless sea of white, a void where nothing but him, the table, and the person opposite him seemed to exist. The figure at the other side was blonde and petite, a girl no more than a few years younger than him, in a plain plaid dress, offering a cup of tea to the illusory Kazuo, who stared at her, dumbstruck.

”Her name was… Well, she didn’t really have a name, not then. She was something that had laid dormant inside of me my entire life. An entity that subsisted off of my own chakra. She offered me immense power, her own power. All that was needed was to unleash her.” He explained, as the girl poured tea into the glass of the illusory Kazuo. ”I, somewhat naively, accepted her power.” The real Kazuo said as the two shook hands, and suddenly they were back at the clearing where they had stood before.

The old Kazuo’s eyes glowed with dark energy, and he drew a sword, howling a battle cry into the night sky as he leapt from the mountain, a blur of speed. In the distance, the small form of Kazuo was seen, a blur of motion, deflecting blades and arrows, knocking opponents aside as he made a mad dash through the village, unleashing death upon those that stood in his way.

There he stood, at the end of his mad dash, holding a man by the throat, upon the roof of his house. He ran the man through, tossing him from the balcony.

”I got my revenge. That day, I purged my home of the wicked who inhabited it.” The real Kazuo said. The scene shifted once more, to find Kazuo standing over a mass of bodies, a confused look upon his face.


”That was not the end, however. In my quest for revenge, I learned that the being I had come to call Yomi was far stronger than I originally realized, and she had her own plans for me.” He said darkly, the scene shifting again and again to a younger Kazuo, growing older with each image, standing over piles of bodies, a disgruntled look upon his face, sometimes overtaken with rage. ”I learned that this Yomi was a gluttonous demon who feasted on the chakra of the living. Without it, she cannot survive, but without her, nor can I. She is a part of me, something I’ve no choice but to live with.” Kazuo explained, sighing before he spoke again. ”...And she is also a friend who cares for me deeply, and that makes it all the more difficult to starve her of chakra.” Kazuo said, the scene shifting one last time as a much older looking Kazuo battled with Yomi in his mind’s eye, swords clashing and blasts of chakra being emitted by both.

”My curse mark gives me a huge amount of chakra, but it also gives that same chakra to Yomi. If I am not careful to starve her of it, she can overpower me and feed. By keeping her, and the mark, in check, I can keep innocent lives from being extinguished.”

Kazuo sheathed his blade, the story having come to a close, the song coming to an end.

”This is the demon that lives within my heart, the one that haunts my every waking moment and tempts me. If I do not resist, I risk the lives of those around me. I have come to believe you are similar to me.” He finished, waiting to hear what the boy had to say.

(TWC: 3861)

Mid-Thread claiming

+2849 words towards Stage 2 Curse Seal of Heaven
+1012/3750 words towards Yuumei Infusion