”Will there be anything else, sir?”
Shokia waved the servant away, his mind on other matters. Tenken was, unfortunately, doing quite well with himself. While he lacked the teeth, the cruel apathy that the clan embodied, he was more than a capable administrator. He’d increased their income in a way that only Hoshikata had, by improving the lot of others. While it was true that if you gave people money they spent it, most of the clan was firmly of the mind that they had to spend it right back with the clan. But Tenken put an end to that, and in return the employees were showing him loyalty across the world by working harder, producing more, and even buying their products more regularly.
The fresh income of money had endeared some of the younger clan leaders to his side. And to make matters worse, that damned brother of his, Osore, was parading the corpse of their former leader around like a marionette, which was swaying others to them out of some misplaced fear that he wasn’t dead. Shokia would have had the two of them killed long before now, except that Tenken was well protected and he knew firsthand how foolish it was to send an assassin after Osore. The last one had little trouble picking his son out, but ending him was an altogether different matter. Ever since he took on that corpse as a puppet he’d had some knack for detecting threats.
That they were his own children had no impact on his desires. The clan came first, as always. He’d tried to explain that his fool of a brother, but the man’s fondness for his firstborn had been his downfall. Shokia lifts the glass to his lips, letting the wine coat his tongue with a robust flavor before lowering it to the desk and rising. He felt something was off, but he could not place it. Still, he had work to do. Perhaps he should call the servant to have his dinner brought to him.
It was when he turned to do so that he saw the visitor. Young, but still a man grown. He wasn’t quite as tall as most Shokia had dealt with, but he was certainly fit. His hair was black, and cut long with a ponytail hanging at the back of his head. And his eyes, blue and black mixed within another. He was wearing a dark blue shinobi shozoku outfit. And he had a naked blade in his hands. Most of this information became very important as Shokia realized who it was.
Of course he’d kept tabs on the kid. One day he might have needed to raise him up as the true clan heir in order to oust whoever was in charge. Shokia even had, to this day, the snapshot of that ceremony as proof of the child’s legitimacy as an Isaki. But what was he doing here? No one had ever told him the truth of his lineage.
”Welcome. I must admit confusion and alarm. If you would be so kind-“
”Shut up.”
The words were brusque, but it was all Maki could give at the moment. Talking was still somewhat new to the former mute, and while it was coming easier, it was a mental challenge still. Thankfully, the man did as he was told in this instance, though Maki could see that it required great restraint. Pride ran through this one like a river of lava; hot enough to burn and bright enough to light the sky.
Getting in was easy. This building had far fewer guards than the main compound, and its more ornate architecture gave plenty of hiding spots for someone who could go through walls. It was also as if the man were daring someone to try doing so. The half dozen guards were currently out of commission, several permanently. The servants he’d encountered had met a similar fate. The fewer witnesses, the better.
”Very well. If you won’t tell me wh-“ ”I said quiet!” ”-what you want I will simply advise you to get out and we can forget this lapse of judgement on your part, boy.”
Maki’s sword rises, the tip touching against the older man’s throat at the hollow of his neck. With measured pressure at step he forces the man back into his seat and pins him there. ”I come for knowledge. And you are going to give it to me.” Maki waits for the man to give a brief, safe nod before continuing. ”Two decades ago, your brother sold me to my parents. I was damaged goods, according to my dad. My mind was unsound, and I had a spinal deformity. As you can see, surgery and good ninjutsu applications have correct the latter. And the former….well…it’s been handled. In a way. I’m here to find out why, however. Lie and I’ll gut you like a fish.”
He pulls the blade back just enough to let Shokia speak. The man coughs slightly and clears his throat, taking a breath. ”Well, you were born with the one. And your biological father had a mystic do the second in order to try and cure his other child who had a mental defect of similar scope. Apparently it worked. Now go.” Once more the blade presses in at his flesh. ”I swear, that’s the truth.”
”Perhaps. You say I have a brother with a similar condition? Who is he? And this mystic, what kind of ritual was it?” Again he pulls the blade back. Shokia swallows, hard. He didn’t know, the fool. He had no idea who he truly was, only that the former clan head had sold him to distant relatives who had no authority to the name. Perhaps he could use this. ”Your brother? The former clan leader, Isaki Hoshikata. The mystic took a portion of your soul and gave it to him. It worked, too. He began talking and he never shut up, damn his eyes. But with you back, we have a true leader again. Tenken is not a direct heir, and you can usurp it easily and take back your namesake. Drop that despicable peasant surname of the whore and fool who bought you and be a true Isaki!”
Maki steps back, his face contorting into rage as he lifts his blade high and brings it down at this man’s head. Shokia, for his age, proved to honor his past training, however. He kicks out, his foot connecting with the younger man’s stomach and pushing him back. The Isaki jumps to his feet, pulling his sheathed blade from beside his desk and freeing the weapon from its confines. ”Very well. I’ll just take your head and use it to set up my son.” And with those words, the two clash.
It was apparent rather quickly who the victor would be. While Shokia had far more experience, he was also much older. His age had sapped his strength and speed, and his mind could not summon the ferocity of this young man before him. ”Guards! Guards! To me!” No one came, however. And soon enough that length of steel lodged in his ribs, and Shokia fell back into his chair.
”Poor choice of last words. Let me show you what having half a soul has done to me, uncle.” The last word was spit venom, carrying a sense of hatred that Shokia couldn’t comprehend of. Maki’s hand lashes out to grip him by the neck, and to the core of his very being Shokia could feel the agony of something tugging at him in places it should not reach. With a yell, Maki rips his hand away, the body of Shokia going limp before him in death. And writing in his hand was the soul of the man he’d just slain.
”You think there is an afterlife for you? Even hell would be too kind to a man who plots to kill his own child, who takes part in the abhorrent ritual you speak of. No. For you, there is only oblivion. Nothing.” The soul begins to glow before vanishing into his hand, absorbing into his being. Becoming a part of him. Shokia was no more. And Maki, himself, was changed forever.
Looking around at the office, he spins on heel and leaves. So his brother was the former clan leader. The talk he had with Tenken before coming here helped that, then. He knew exactly where that soul was.
(Topic left, S rank 30 minutes)
Shokia waved the servant away, his mind on other matters. Tenken was, unfortunately, doing quite well with himself. While he lacked the teeth, the cruel apathy that the clan embodied, he was more than a capable administrator. He’d increased their income in a way that only Hoshikata had, by improving the lot of others. While it was true that if you gave people money they spent it, most of the clan was firmly of the mind that they had to spend it right back with the clan. But Tenken put an end to that, and in return the employees were showing him loyalty across the world by working harder, producing more, and even buying their products more regularly.
The fresh income of money had endeared some of the younger clan leaders to his side. And to make matters worse, that damned brother of his, Osore, was parading the corpse of their former leader around like a marionette, which was swaying others to them out of some misplaced fear that he wasn’t dead. Shokia would have had the two of them killed long before now, except that Tenken was well protected and he knew firsthand how foolish it was to send an assassin after Osore. The last one had little trouble picking his son out, but ending him was an altogether different matter. Ever since he took on that corpse as a puppet he’d had some knack for detecting threats.
That they were his own children had no impact on his desires. The clan came first, as always. He’d tried to explain that his fool of a brother, but the man’s fondness for his firstborn had been his downfall. Shokia lifts the glass to his lips, letting the wine coat his tongue with a robust flavor before lowering it to the desk and rising. He felt something was off, but he could not place it. Still, he had work to do. Perhaps he should call the servant to have his dinner brought to him.
It was when he turned to do so that he saw the visitor. Young, but still a man grown. He wasn’t quite as tall as most Shokia had dealt with, but he was certainly fit. His hair was black, and cut long with a ponytail hanging at the back of his head. And his eyes, blue and black mixed within another. He was wearing a dark blue shinobi shozoku outfit. And he had a naked blade in his hands. Most of this information became very important as Shokia realized who it was.
Of course he’d kept tabs on the kid. One day he might have needed to raise him up as the true clan heir in order to oust whoever was in charge. Shokia even had, to this day, the snapshot of that ceremony as proof of the child’s legitimacy as an Isaki. But what was he doing here? No one had ever told him the truth of his lineage.
”Welcome. I must admit confusion and alarm. If you would be so kind-“
”Shut up.”
The words were brusque, but it was all Maki could give at the moment. Talking was still somewhat new to the former mute, and while it was coming easier, it was a mental challenge still. Thankfully, the man did as he was told in this instance, though Maki could see that it required great restraint. Pride ran through this one like a river of lava; hot enough to burn and bright enough to light the sky.
Getting in was easy. This building had far fewer guards than the main compound, and its more ornate architecture gave plenty of hiding spots for someone who could go through walls. It was also as if the man were daring someone to try doing so. The half dozen guards were currently out of commission, several permanently. The servants he’d encountered had met a similar fate. The fewer witnesses, the better.
”Very well. If you won’t tell me wh-“ ”I said quiet!” ”-what you want I will simply advise you to get out and we can forget this lapse of judgement on your part, boy.”
Maki’s sword rises, the tip touching against the older man’s throat at the hollow of his neck. With measured pressure at step he forces the man back into his seat and pins him there. ”I come for knowledge. And you are going to give it to me.” Maki waits for the man to give a brief, safe nod before continuing. ”Two decades ago, your brother sold me to my parents. I was damaged goods, according to my dad. My mind was unsound, and I had a spinal deformity. As you can see, surgery and good ninjutsu applications have correct the latter. And the former….well…it’s been handled. In a way. I’m here to find out why, however. Lie and I’ll gut you like a fish.”
He pulls the blade back just enough to let Shokia speak. The man coughs slightly and clears his throat, taking a breath. ”Well, you were born with the one. And your biological father had a mystic do the second in order to try and cure his other child who had a mental defect of similar scope. Apparently it worked. Now go.” Once more the blade presses in at his flesh. ”I swear, that’s the truth.”
”Perhaps. You say I have a brother with a similar condition? Who is he? And this mystic, what kind of ritual was it?” Again he pulls the blade back. Shokia swallows, hard. He didn’t know, the fool. He had no idea who he truly was, only that the former clan head had sold him to distant relatives who had no authority to the name. Perhaps he could use this. ”Your brother? The former clan leader, Isaki Hoshikata. The mystic took a portion of your soul and gave it to him. It worked, too. He began talking and he never shut up, damn his eyes. But with you back, we have a true leader again. Tenken is not a direct heir, and you can usurp it easily and take back your namesake. Drop that despicable peasant surname of the whore and fool who bought you and be a true Isaki!”
Maki steps back, his face contorting into rage as he lifts his blade high and brings it down at this man’s head. Shokia, for his age, proved to honor his past training, however. He kicks out, his foot connecting with the younger man’s stomach and pushing him back. The Isaki jumps to his feet, pulling his sheathed blade from beside his desk and freeing the weapon from its confines. ”Very well. I’ll just take your head and use it to set up my son.” And with those words, the two clash.
It was apparent rather quickly who the victor would be. While Shokia had far more experience, he was also much older. His age had sapped his strength and speed, and his mind could not summon the ferocity of this young man before him. ”Guards! Guards! To me!” No one came, however. And soon enough that length of steel lodged in his ribs, and Shokia fell back into his chair.
”Poor choice of last words. Let me show you what having half a soul has done to me, uncle.” The last word was spit venom, carrying a sense of hatred that Shokia couldn’t comprehend of. Maki’s hand lashes out to grip him by the neck, and to the core of his very being Shokia could feel the agony of something tugging at him in places it should not reach. With a yell, Maki rips his hand away, the body of Shokia going limp before him in death. And writing in his hand was the soul of the man he’d just slain.
”You think there is an afterlife for you? Even hell would be too kind to a man who plots to kill his own child, who takes part in the abhorrent ritual you speak of. No. For you, there is only oblivion. Nothing.” The soul begins to glow before vanishing into his hand, absorbing into his being. Becoming a part of him. Shokia was no more. And Maki, himself, was changed forever.
Looking around at the office, he spins on heel and leaves. So his brother was the former clan leader. The talk he had with Tenken before coming here helped that, then. He knew exactly where that soul was.
(Topic left, S rank 30 minutes)