The Mark of Jin - Episode I

Episode I: The Hunted Rōnin

         Tenrai waited eagerly with his contingent of bandits on a cliff-side, overlooking the lush Haujutan Forest. The had marched for nearly a day, as they hunted for one man. It wasn't just any man they were hunting for, but a warrior with unprecedented prowess, who claimed to have fought and defeated a great demon.
         Absurd as it was, Tenrai could not help but be intrigued, as he was no mere mortal himself, for he too was a demon – who thrived for violence, cruelty, and challenge. To him, humans were a weak inferior race, who existed as mere fodder for amusement, or to grovel at his feet in servitude. No human was capable of defeating a demon, especially one as strong as himself, but the desire for a good fight compelled him to confront this man.
         At first glance he was able to pass as a human – much as one's imagination could tolerate the unusual, but one stare into his soulless black eyes would betray his supernatural origin. He had a square face, with a wide protruding chin, layered with thick flesh, as if it was chiselled out of stone. He was ridiculously large, standing well over seven feet, with broad shoulders and an elongated abdomen; a towering presence that secured dominance over his subjects, who were as inhuman as he was. He wore iron plates tethered with leather thongs, draped with a long cloak, and an ornamental helmet, appearing as a samurai, but Tenrai was no warrior who was foolishly honourable or noble.
         It had been hours since scouts were sent ahead to stay on the trail, while Tenrai and the rest of his men waited patiently, after reaching the other side of the mountain pass. It was late afternoon, as the sun passed its peak and began its slow descent into the western horizon. He shifted restlessly on his horse; anger steadily rising with his anxiousness. The anticipation was nothing less than excruciating.
         “Those villagers said he was heading north. He must be somewhere here!” He thought out loud in his frustration.
         “Or someone just fitting his description,” interjected Kage – a slender, somehow taller man in black, whose face was wrapped in cloth, like bandages.
         Tenrai clenched his naginata, nearly snapping it in half with his strength. How he would have enjoyed cutting down Kage at that very moment if he could. His presence made the situation all the more irritable.
         “If you feel you are wasting your time, by all means Kage, you are free to leave,” he spoke up, having managed to keep his anger from boiling over. “By the time you return, I will have his head, and Akugou's soul will be mine for the taking!”
         “It is my duty to be by your side,” Kage assured him in a humble tone.
         It was an offence to Tenrai every time Kage spewed words from his mouth; always in some way condescending towards him, because Kage knew he had no choice but to tolerate his behavior. He was desperate for a distraction; he needed someone, or something to kill.
         It had already felt long ago since they pillaged that small village; not that killing petty commoners was really all that satisfying to him, but at that moment of time it would have been better than nothing. That didn't mean he considered giving up however, too much effort had been invested to get as close as they were.
         “He is close. I can smell him,” Tenrai spoke up with conviction. “I will find him, and when that time comes, I don't want you to interfere,” he ordered Kage.
         “As you wish,” Kage obeyed without any sign of objection.
         “My lord!” One of Tenrai's men called him to attention. “All but one of our scouts have reported in. He's long declared overdue.”
         “Where was the scout sent?” Tenrai inquired.
         “Two scouts surveyed the south and eastern parts of the forest; the one that went missing was heading west, towards the river.”
         Tenrai's eyes widened in his excitement. “That's where he is!” He deduced.
         “Have the men move west into the forest,” he ordered. “Find the Rōnin, and force him south. All riders will follow me along the edge of the forest, where we'll ambush him as he tries to escape!”
         The men obediently carried out their orders.
         Tenrai grinned, feeling his heart pumping faster as blood rushed through his veins. He was certain his prey was finally within his grasp; all of his efforts were coming to fruition. The man's life was his for the taking, and he was going to revel in every moment taking it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

         Jin sprinted through the dense forest, his sandals barely touching the terrain as his legs moved in rapid rhythm. His lean physique pierced through the air as he moved at a considerable speed, which sent turbulent vibrations in his ears.
         The Haujutan Forest was an ancient place yet to be tainted by civilization. Its trees stood as tall as mountains, and were just as wide in girth, with thick extensive branches, enormous enough to be trees themselves. Beams of sunlight streaked through the thick canopy of leaves overhead, regulating the temperate climate with its comforting warmth. Birds and insects sung harmoniously among the thriving community of wildlife. It was quite tranquil, but Jin had no time to enjoy it, as he knew he was being hunted.
         Since the day he inherited the power of a demon, beings of malevolent nature had been drawn to him, condemning him to wander the land, relentlessly hunted. Ironically, it also gave him the edge he needed to withstand against such greater beings, gifting him with supernatural abilities that surpassed any human in peak physical condition. But as far as he was really concerned, it was all moot, for he lived with many regrets, and he believed it was only a matter of time until the day he would fall by the hands of those that sought to extract his power.
         So he spent his days as a humble vagabond, dressed in hemp trousers, a thin layered jacket called a kimono, and a conical hat called a jingasa to conceal his face. Strapped on his back was a katana – his only possession other than his clothes, which he used to defend himself when needed.
         He knew how close the enemy was at his heels, having encountered one of their scouts earlier. His final words continued to linger in his mind, gnawing at him, as they repeated over and over:
         “You are going to suffer an agonizing death marked one!” The agent had assured him with sadistic confidence. “Just like the people from the nearby village we burnt to the ground!”
         Stricken with guilt, he slowed his pace to a jog while he reflected on the senseless slaughter he had inadvertently caused. He remembered seeing the black smoke rising from the direction of the village some time ago, but had dismissed it, having convinced himself he had effectively covered his tracks. He feigned ignorance, and because of that more blood was on his hands. Innocent blood.
         It was such violence that followed in his wake – the nature of the demons who hunted him, who relished in terror and destruction. How many more lives was he willing to sacrifice for the sake of his own? It was such vanity that brought him into his current struggle. He decided he was going to stay and fight, to avenge those that needlessly suffered on his behalf.
         He scaled one of the nearby trees, and perched himself on a branch as wide as his body, approximately forty feet from the ground, concealed behind thick foliage. He sat with his legs crossed, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing both his body and mind. Time passed while he waited ever patiently, carefully listening to the sounds of his surrounding environment. Eventually the forest wildlife went unnaturally quiet, alerting him of the enemy long before he heard their approach.
         The density of the air shifted. Twigs snapped. Leaves ruffled. He made peace with the choice he had made. If he was going to die, then so be it, but not before taking as many of them with him.
         They were similar to the scout he had dealt with earlier, appearing to be human, but their brutish features and behavior gave away their true nature. On initial impression, they probably would have been mistaken for brigands or marauders, outfitted in patchwork sets of armor, consisting of leather vests, shoulder pads, leg guards, arm plates, and layered hoods. They also carried an assortment of weapons, which included bows, swords, spears, and throwing daggers called kunai. It was difficult to ascertain how many there exactly were, but Jin estimated at least eight to ten of them.
         He slowly rose to his feet and unsheathed his blade, careful to avoid making any noise as a bowman unwittingly positioned himself beneath him. In a demonstration of superior agility, he leaped off and landed on the bowman's shoulders, then skewered him through the back of the neck. Before the body went limp from the fatal blow, he jumped off, then struck another unsuspecting enemy with a flying kick. He landed on a nearby branch, as the second body crashed into the tree trunk, then plummeted to the ground far below.
         Arrows whizzed passed him, practically grazing him as he vaulted from branch to branch to avoid fire. His element of surprise was lost, as he overheard the enemy warning each other of his presence. He veered back and eliminated another bowman, then avoided an ambush from two swordsmen, who leaped at him from below. They aggressively followed up with a successive string of attacks, slashing at him from multiple angles, almost simultaneously, but he dodged or parried every one. He was just too nimble and quick, despite their coordinated effort.
         They sprung at him again, attempting another pincer attack as they approached him from both front and behind. Using the hazardous terrain to his advantage, Jin applied more of his weight into deflecting the next blow from the first attacker, then followed up with a preemptive back kick to the second, effectively throwing them off balance. Both tumbled back and comically teetered on the branch's rounded surface, while Jin – given the opening he needed – stepped, pivoted, then twirled with his katana, maneuvering over the narrow slippery surface with perfect balance and coordination, like an elegant dancer. Two more bodies fell from the trees, following after a downpour of blood and limbs.
         Jin became confident he was able to defeat them all. Their style of fighting was overly aggressive and reckless; it was clear they hadn't anticipated an opponent that matched them in strength, and surpassed them in speed. But what was he to expect from those that thrived on preying on the weak and helpless? So he repaid in kind. One by one he slayed them without mercy, taking heed to ensure he continued fighting them in small groups at a time – on the off chance he would get overwhelmed by their numbers.
         Adrenaline surged through him, as he moved in increasing momentum, slashing his katana or delivering blows with his fists and legs more times than he was able to count. Limbs flew. Bones crunched. And voices shrieked in agony, as a trail of mutilated bodies were made in the aftermath of his frenzy.
         By the time Jin had descended back to the ground, he spotted one enemy left, who seemed discouraged to attack him. Was it fear that he saw in those eyes? It perplexed him. Never would he have imagined seeing such a familiar expression on a supernatural being. But mystifying as that was, it wasn't going to distract him from what he resolved to do. He flicked his blade, splattering a nearby shrub with blood, then raised it into an attack position. His enemy retreated a step, then reluctantly raised his own sword in defense; he noticed his eyes had glanced at something above him.
         From out of the trees, descending on top of him, had been a wounded enemy holding a grenade, attempting a suicide attack. Given the forewarning he needed, he spun around, grabbed the bomber in midair, then flung him towards his comrade. The bomber screamed as he flew like a projectile before erupting into an explosion of fire and shrapnel. Jin laid low to the ground as it went off, his body shaking with the earth from the resulting shock wave. By good fortune, the inferno had been contained enough to avoid engulfing the entire forest.
         Rising back to his feet unscathed, Jin used the moment of confusion to withdraw deeper into the forest. Sure he was safe from being pursed, he did not look back as he ran at full speed, leaving what was left of the enemy behind him. By his own hand, he had managed to survive to fight another day.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

         Kage witnessed the fight in the forest, and the subsequent slaughter of Tenrai's men. It was apparent that the stories of the Rōnin were not entirely exaggerated. Not only did he defeat them, but he did it quite efficiently, which was no small feat, considering they weren't human. With equivalent strength, as well as considerable fighting skill, he was a dangerous man to underestimate. He had to admit, he was quite impressed.
         But Tenrai had too much of a closed mind to conceive such a concept. He preferred to believe that humans were incapable of being such a threat, which was inconsequential to Kage, as he had no desire to convince him otherwise.
         “I caught this one routing from the battle, attempting to abandon his duty,” he explained as he dropped one of Tenrai's men at his feet. “I'm afraid he represents the last of your forces sent into the forest.”
         Tenrai seemed unconcerned for their loss. “You let him escape?” He accused Kage, referring to the rōnin; his words surged with fury.
         “You wished for him to be left unspoiled,” he reminded him.
         Tenrai shook as anger got the better of him. His misplaced blame came as no surprise to Kage, aware he was incapable of taking responsibility for failure.
         “What happened?” Tenrai interrogated the straggler – the survivor from the forest.
          The straggler's narrow eyes blinked when he realized Tenrai had addressed him. His clothes had been singed, and his face was smudged with blood and soot. He was on his knees, having to look up to meet Tenrai's face, swallowing before he spoke. “We were defeated my lord.”
         “Where is he?” Tenrai barked.
         “North-east,” Kage answered for him. “Diverting back along the Tossuo Mountains.”
          Tenrai's rage boiled over, lunging his naginata at both Kage and the straggler. Having foreseen the attack, Kage dodged at the perfect moment, submerging his form into a nearby shadow, then re-emerged from Tenrai's shadow behind him. The straggler however, wasn't so lucky being agonizingly lifted into the air after being impaled through his gut.
         Such a feat of strength would have been impossible for any average man, but Tenrai's demonic lineage succeeded that of a human, and twice over, as concealed underneath his cloak had been another pair of arms. He held up his subordinate high into the air, then slammed him into the ground, head first, into a patch of pointed rocks.
         “Pathetic.” Tenrai spat in disgust. “Defeated by a human!” He roared as he stomped on the mangled body to pull out his weapon.
         Kage's right eye twitched, then bulged out of its socket as if it was going to pop out of his skull. Its red iris dilated and then pulsated with veins, as if becoming a separate entity that extended from his body. It fixated on Tenrai, probing him, tracking every subtle movement he made, dictating whether he was a sudden threat.
         “Everyone, dismount! We continue on foot into the forest!” Tenrai ordered his few remaining men. “You have anything more to say Kage?”
         “No,” He answered with restraint; his eye having regressed back to normal.
         “Good.” Tenrai threatened.
         More determined than ever, driven by his frustration, Tenrai continued his pursuit. Still confident he would succeed by mere brawn, without consideration of his enemy, who clearly proved to be quite formidable.
         Where demons such as he indulged in things such as sex, torture, and murder, Kage was indifferent to it all. He prided himself in resisting temptation, which bred weakness, and instead found strength in purpose, such as serving a higher power.
         Since the day he was introduced to Tenrai, Kage foresaw his downfall, but never would he have expected under such potential circumstances. Was it going to be at the hand of a human? He was both amused and intrigued. He was more than willing to simply spectate, and resist interfering as he had been instructed, just to see how things developed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

         It was night by the time Jin reached the Kagero waterfalls. He had diverted back east, towards the mountains, hoping the enemy had anticipated him to continue west, as he originally had planned. Fortunately, the journey had been peaceful, with no sign of pursuit. He hoped that their defeat in the forest had persuaded the rest of them to abandon their hunt, but he knew that was just wishful thinking. Demons would never be so easily dispirited.
         While he followed along the river, he had managed to catch a fish swimming upstream with his katana – a meal he was grateful to receive, having not eaten in nearly two days. Within moments he was already down to the minuscule pieces of raw flesh, which he desperately tried to suck and pry away. He could have eaten a dozen more of them. It hadn't mattered that it wasn't cooked or prepared. Such luxuries had been long forgotten to him.
         The river eventually led him to a secluded spot near the base of the falls – an open area walled in with thickets, and a connecting spring. Its surface glittered under the moonlight, while the trees swayed under a soothing breeze. He found it quite comforting, assured the place was adequate enough to provide sanctuary until morning.
         The refreshing taste of the spring water drove him into a frenzy, as he nearly choked in his effort to chug portions bigger than his throat was able to swallow. Afterwards, he had taken a moment to wash his long rugged face, plucking discovered chunks of leftover fish from his beard.
         He recalled a story the nearby villagers had told, explaining how the waterfall had got its name. It was after a woman from a romanticized story, who fell in love and married a man that was conscripted into war. Every day she prayed for him to return home safely, yearning to be reunited with him. Years later her husband managed to return home without even suffering a single wound from his countless battles, only to discover that she had succumbed to a fatal illness that swept over the village sometime earlier. Stricken with grief, he climbed to the top of the falls and plummeted to his death, but not before carving her name in a nearby tree – in honour of the love he was unable to live without.
         Weariness came over him. He wished he hadn't let his thoughts wander so freely, having kindled memories he wished to forget, but was unable to ever let go. He hated how stories preyed on sentimentality, while they embellished and fabricated elements that betrayed reality. Even tragic ones tended to smother harsh truths, as if there was a disinclination to recognize how corrupt and unjust the real world truly was.
         Not too far from the falls, he discovered a small cave along the base of the mountains. Just as he suspected, the amount of water vapor made it quite damp, but he no less appreciated it, having been less accommodated in nights past. Fortunately the temperature had been mild, and the moon did manage to creep in faint light, which managed to keep him comfortable enough.
         There had been countless cold nights before where he had been desperate to feel a fire's warmth, but was unable to afford the risk of exposing himself. Such times he felt the deprivation and paranoia would push him over the edge into insanity. It often led him to question the purpose of prolonging the fate he had brought upon himself.
         He was no tragic figure or noble hero from a romantic story – he was well aware of that. If the events of his life had been presented as a story, it would have been an unpleasant tale of forewarning – demonstrating how humans were just as capable as any other malevolent being to commit great evil.
         There had been a time when glory and honour guided his life. He had been a Samurai, an anointed retainer, serving under his older brother, Hayate, for the Kumazawa clan. He was a renowned warrior who earned many victories in battle, furthering his clan's political position to one day claim the shogunate.
         Despite his own exposure to politics, he never had any ambition for titles or rule, having found his place as a protector for his brother, and his younger sister Meiou. But there was no avoiding its control and influence, as feudal lords bickered and schemed, competing to earn more power and influence over their rivals. Through deception and betrayal his clan was wiped out, while he was left to die on a battlefield among his fallen comrades, having lost what was most dear to him – his family.
         He should have died then. So many times death had eluded him, and still it denied him when he had most desired it. Was it fate, or was it the chaotic nature of causality? Or perhaps, it had been intervention of a higher power?
         Maybe it had been all by design that he had encountered a demon, who preyed on his grief and hate, tempting him with what he was unable to refuse – the opportunity to claim retribution. He was unable to deny that it was quite empowering to be unstoppable and feared. Able to punish everyone that had wronged him, and anyone else who foolishly attempted to stand in his way.
         So many lives he mercilessly had ended; so much blood he had spilled. He remembered the screams of men, women, and even children, while they gasped their final breath. The rotten stench of death that became ever more intoxicating. And his smile, expressing delight from the suffering he had inflicted, driven by his grown addiction for carnage.
         It was always overwhelming to relive the horror and shame of his memories, feeling as if he was about to be crushed under an extraordinary weight, unsure whether he was going to lash out in hysterical laughter or cry. There was no way he was able to atone for the things he had done. Yet, disgusted as he was to admit, part of him wanted to believe otherwise. No matter how much the rational part of him exposed the hopeless truth, he was incapable of accepting it, because it meant giving up.
         By the time he managed to slip into unconsciousness, hours had passed circling through the same troubling thoughts, over and over again. He had been sitting in a cross legged position, and remained erect while he slept.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

         When Jin awoke, he immediately knew he was in danger. Sunlight had replaced the moonlight in the morning's early hours, bathing the Haujutan Forest in a rich orange tinge. It created thick deceptive shadows, which startled him, having believed he had seen an unnatural shape scurry around the entrance of the cave.
         For some time he was too afraid to move, having felt the enemy was right outside, waiting for him. He cursed himself repeatedly for having over slept, aware that such carelessness was reserved for only the most stupid of men.
         The nearby waterfall roared over the quiet surroundings, as he sneaked his way out of the cave, his hand hovering over the handle of his sword. He crept through tall grass, shrubs and trees, as he attempted to spot signs of the enemy, only to be continuously tricked by movement caused by the wind.
         At the right moment, he picked up a disturbance in the air, and withdrew back into cover, just as an arrow flew towards him. It punctured through the brim of his hat, which would have hit his face, had he been only a split second too late.
         The ambush followed with an enemy dropping out from the trees, swinging an axe with a massive crescent shaped head. Jin leaped back, the brim of his hat taking the brunt of the attack once again, as the axe's blade sliced it open, having just barely missed meeting his flesh. The axe then struck the ground with considerable force, creating a small tremor on impact.
         His hat reduced to tatters, he discarded it, revealing his high cheekbones, and his long wavy black hair, which he had tied into a ponytail. His brown narrow eyes flared in his annoyance, feeling exposed without it.
         The enemy was clad in thick leather scaled armor, and a distinct demonic mask with horns that featured a wide sadistic grin. He may have appeared human, but based on how swift and agile he was able to move with such a cumbersome weapon, while wearing armor, probably meant there was something even more gruesome concealed beneath the mask.
         Again, Jin retreated back as his opponent swung a second time, the axe's blade hissed as it cleaved only air. Certain his opponent left himself vulnerable, he rushed in to counterattack, but the enemy used the momentum to follow up their attack with a tackle, which sent him flying backward. He slammed into a nearby tree, while his opponent pressed the momentary advantage, and vaulted into an airborne twirl, then descended on top of him like a deadly windmill.
         Impressive as the display was, its long wind up gave Jin a generous amount of time to recover and dive out of the way. He emerged back to back with his opponent just as their attack finished, offering a split-second opportunity to retaliate. Not sparing any time to turn around, he thrust his katana from behind, and struck his opponent underneath their cuirass, into their spine.
         There was a guttural groan as sharp steel penetrated into flesh. Jin, through the corner of his eye, was able to see the body fall limp as he withdrew his blade. Without having to inspect the inflicted wound, it was obvious that it had been a crippling blow.
         The fight was far from over, however, as two more in the same attire took his place. One was wielding a long, bladed spear called a yari, and the other swung a kusarigama – a weapon consisting of a chain attached to an iron weight and a sickle. Jin had very limited time to react, as the one with the kusarigama whipped its weighted end towards him, forcing him to guard the attack with his katana. The kusarigama's chain wrapped around the blade and ensnared it, rewarding the enemy the opportunity to rip it away from his hands.
         While Jin struggled in a fierce tug of war, he noticed the spearman had sprinted towards him, trapping him in an unfavourable situation. Deciding to give up his sword over being impaled, he released it and performed a maneuver similar to a pirouette, managing to mitigate the incoming damage down to a shallow wound across his lower abdomen.
         His shirt however, wasn't so lucky, having been torn to the point that it was practically shredded in two. So, he threw it off and discarded it. For a brief moment he wondered if he was going to be completely naked by the time the fight was over.
         Ignoring the stinging pain, Jin rushed towards the spearman, and struck him in the face with a punch. The strength of the impact dazed the spearman, as he stumbled backward nearly losing his balance, his mask absorbing the majority of damage causing it to shatter into pieces. Then, in one complete maneuver, Jin grabbed onto his spear, and vaulted into an airborne spin kick, which sent the spearman flying into the air in a corkscrew like motion. Having stolen his weapon from his hands, Jin leaped and impaled him in the chest right as he touched the ground. The spearman's disfigured face – which was black and cracked like burnt wood – contorted into anguish, as the weapon penetrated through his armor and into his flesh.
         But just as Jin finished him off, a large imposing figure charged towards him, and slashed at him in succession with a naginata. His new opponent cackled in a deep, booming voice with each consecutive swing, as if it gave him great pleasure. Jin somersaulted into a series of back flips to avoid the onslaught, having felt the power of his attacks through the force of the shifting air.
         “Finally, I have you Rōnin!” His new opponent bellowed. Jin noticed there was excitement in his voice.
         He was tall, and broad shouldered, wearing heavier, more elaborately decorated iron armor, with a long cloak, appearing as a samurai. But Jin sensed something ominous, ever more so compared to the rest he had encountered up to that point. There was no doubt that he was a greater demon.
         “So this is the one who slayed Akugou?” His thick face twitched in amusement. “And he let himself be disarmed?” He mocked, almost breaking out in laughter. “How shameful.”
         Two more men emerged, and covered opposite sides around Jin. The enemy who had stolen his sword planted it into the ground, then twirled his own weapon in a playful manner.
         “But, you are strong for a human aren't you?” The samurai-looking demon stated, as he walked at a leisurely pace towards the enemy Jin had stabbed in the spine; the metal in his armor clinked with each step. “You avoided my attack,” he reflected as he flipped the body over with his foot, which revealed his subordinate, who still clung to life. “And defeated my men,” he added as he finished him off, stabbing him in the heart, then twisted his weapon inside the wound. He had a malicious grin that enveloped almost the entirety of his face. His eyes fixated on Jin, as if he was entranced.
         “This place will be your grave,” he declared.
         In a sudden motion, he threw away his cloak, and revealed another pair of arms that had been concealed underneath, each withdrawing a katana that was sheathed at each side. Meanwhile, his upper arms twirled the naginata above his head, in an unnatural display, showcasing his prowess of wielding three individual weapons at once.
         Jin retreated a step, and went into a defensive stance, with only his limbs at his disposal to protect himself. The stench of blood polluted his nostrils, while the right side of his body below his ribs felt moist, and continued to sting with pain.
         Perhaps the time had waited for had come. Where karma had caught up to him, to punish him for the sins and dishonour he brought upon himself. He reflected on the choice he had made the day before in the trees, and wondered if he would have made the same decision, given the foreknowledge of events as they were. Despite some hesitation, he assured himself he had taken the right path. Enough regret haunted him as it was.
         The samurai demon wasted no time, as he lunged and swung his weapons in tandem, unleashing a torrent of blades. Jin danced around him, contorting and flinging his body in a fantastic display of acrobatics, just managing to avoid instant death. Throughout the fight he was stuck on the defensive, as his opponent exerted unrelenting aggression, attacking again and again like a frenzied beast. The samurai demon may have been slower, but he however, proved to be perceptive, eventually anticipating Jin's maneuvers, which he then began to counter with well coordinated strikes.
         Jin's blood splattered onto rocks and thick grass, sinking to his knees as it seeped out of multiple deep cuts around his body. Overwhelming pain engulfed him, seizing his muscles and depriving him of all his strength. Much as he struggled to rise back to his feet, his limbs only twitched in response.
         “What a pitiful sight,” the samurai demon mocked again with delight. “But it's no less than what I expected,” he added with annoyance. “That a lowly human was able to defeat Akugou proves how unworthy he was of his reputation – a mockery to our kind. It's an embarrassment that brings shame on us all.”
         One of the samurai demon's henchmen raised their bow and took aim at Jin. Unable to prevent or avoid the incoming shot, he braced for its impact. A sober calmness flowed through him, realizing he was awaiting imminent death. And for a brief moment, he felt at peace, just what he had long sought for.
         “Release that arrow, and I will deprive you of your eyes and hands,” the samurai demon growled through his teeth.
         His subordinate heeded his warning, lowering their bow in silent obedience.
         “The Rōnin's life is mine to take!” He then warned the rest of his men.
         Jin reminisced the time he faced against the demon Akugou. When he sought an end to his self destruction, having conceded his bloody path for revenge was never going to appease his grief. All that had been left to achieve was a glorified death, by defying the very evil that corrupted him.
         Without question, it had been the most grueling fight he had ever experienced. The demon had been incredibly strong, with ferocity to match – an opponent unlike anyone he had ever fought against before. Never had he believed that he stood any chance against the very being who gifted him his superhuman power. Challenging him had been nothing more than an irrational and desperate act, intended to serve as a means to atone, and earn what little honour he was able to reclaim with death. But in an ironic twist, his battered and torn body had somehow persevered against the demon, who stood hunched over before him in defeat, drenched in its blood.
         “I have underestimated you human,” Akugou had remarked with a chuckle. “Your potential exceeds far beyond what I had expected.”
         The demon then roared in maniacal laughter, its powerful voice rumbled like thunder, which rippled throughout the land like a shockwave.
         “My death will not bring you any peace,” it had assured him. “The pact was made, and forever we are bound to one another. My essence swells within your very spirit. Tainting it. Corrupting it. Until it will consume you. And while you cling to your fleeting humanity, other demons will be drawn to its dark power, and will tirelessly hunt you to claim it for themselves.”
         Its sharp protruding teeth had formed a mischievous grin. Its eyes had glowed crimson, somehow gleaming in surrounding darkness.
         “So, struggler,” it beckoned. “Will you continue to fight, despite your inevitable fate?”
         Akugou's death was a genuine shock that left Jin disillusioned, having believed he was deprived of his final chance at redemption. And soon after, when the demon's premonition took fruition, he became reacquainted with fear once again.
         Since then, he lingered on, recounting the demon's final words, yearning for the days past, when he had believed righteousness and duty would lead him to a proud fulfilling life. A living contradiction of a man, who had long betrayed his beliefs and morals, but still valued to uphold them, because they represented the last remnants of his humanity.
         Was he so willing to submit to his fate? He stared into the face of his adversary – the samurai demon – who marched towards him, ready to charge in a final, full out attack. The expression of vanity and hatred were things he was all too familiar with, as if it was a dark reflection of his inner self.
         His right hand clenched the soil beneath him. Then he took a deep, relaxed breath.
         Life or death. Neither meant anything without struggle.
         “I will enjoy breaking your silence with your screams,” the samurai demon mused, so sure victory was his.
         But Jin proved otherwise.
         Prepared for the samurai demon's head-on attack, Jin waited at the very last moment to dive out of the way, but not before he tossed dirt into his opponent's eyes and blinded him. The samurai demon wailed as he lost his balance and tumbled to his knees. Jin procured the axe from the nearby fallen enemy he had defeated earlier and initiated his counterattack, ignoring one of the henchmen that took pursuit. Just as he had anticipated, the samurai demon blindly flailed his weapons in a desperate attempt to thwart his attack, which he avoided by rolling to the side. The henchman however wasn't so lucky, as he was caught within the flurry of blows, and was inadvertently sliced to pieces. Given an opening, Jin swung his weapon, and buried its thick blade into the exposed backside of the samurai demon's right leg, severing the tendons in his ankle.
         While the samurai demon roared in agonizing pain, Jin withdrew and shifted his attention to the remaining threats around him – the bowman, who took unsuccessful potshots, and the enemy armed with the kusarigama, who charged to get into attack range.
         Determined to eliminate them both as quickly as possible, he lifted the axe over his head after winding up into a sprint, and flung it at the kusarigama wielding enemy charging towards him. Despite its hefty weight, the axe spun in the air with considerable momentum, and struck the enemy so hard it knocked him off his feet, while the impact from the blade split his face in two.
         Fed up with having to weave through arrows, Jin then sprinted towards the bowman, who fired quicker shots in succession, stricken with desperation. He feinted and sidestepped through the barrage, retrieved the yari from the enemy's corpse, then charged at the bowman with the weapon pointed forward.
         A calm breeze swept through the forest from the west, which passed through the small battlefield of fallen demons, and one man, who once again had somehow managed to elude death.
         Jin panted, fixated on the skewered body of his enemy, as it keeled over and hung as dead weight against a nearby tree it was pinned to. He released his grip on the spear, as he was reacquainted with his pain, including a fresh wound from an arrow that struck his right shoulder. It took all of his effort to keep himself erect, his stiff body glistening with sweat and blood.
         In a slow, cautious pace, he went to retrieve his sword, watchful of the samurai demon who had regained his sight, but struggled to stand on his crippled leg.
          “Disgraceful coward,” the samurai demon ranted, his face strained with pain and frustration. “Such tactics do not befit a samurai!”
         Jin turned to him, sword in hand, the arrowhead prodding against the tissue in his shoulder. “I am no samurai,” he corrected him, his voice calm and controlled. “I abandoned my virtues when I embraced the dark power offered to me.”
         “Power that is rightfully mine,” the samurai demon snarled. A pool of blood continued to expand beneath him.
         “You?” Jin scoffed. “A demon who was defeated by a lowly human?”
         “I cannot be defeated by a human!” The samurai demon snapped. His body shook, and his eyes widened in agony. “I will not,” he then stated, almost in a whimper.
         It was then, Jin was certain that even demons were capable of feeling fear.
         “You already have,” he assured him.
         The words provoked the samurai demon into a maniacal rage. He screeched at the top of his lungs, twisting and thrashing his body as he tried to lift himself past his knees, but resorted to throwing his naginata like a spear towards Jin. With the samurai demon having played into his hands, Jin, with every ounce of his remaining strength, sidestepped out of the way, then sprinted around to his opponent's right flank. The samurai demon helplessly looked over, and continued to scream.
         There was no way for Jin to have been aware of it at the time, but in those final brief moments of the fight, his eyes gleamed in an unnatural shade of crimson.
         He leaped and slashed his sword at neck height.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

         In the far north-east from the Haujutan Forest, beyond the treacherous landscape of the Tossou Mountains, stood a castle, perched on top of a mountain spine. A slender tower-like structure, with elaborate curved roofs that resembled vertebra, converging to a steep peak, like a jagged spear. It was a structure no human hand could have conceivably built, constructed out of mountain rock, as if it was chiselled by the hands of giants.
         It had taken Kage nearly a week to return to the castle, having been quite eager to return, to report the outcome of Tenrai's hunt for the accursed Rōnin. After a patient journey, he was rewarded with the presence of his master once again, who he served with unyielding loyalty.
         “My empress,” he announced after emerging from the shadows, bowing towards his master with humble respect.
         Her humanoid figure turned to him in silence. She had been standing on a wide balcony near her chambers, thoughtfully gazing out onto the mountainous landscape, with clusters of large black clouds consuming a dark blue sky above.
         She was absolutely magnificent in Kage's eyes – an embodiment of elegance and power. An exoskeletal body that was tall and curvaceous, adorned with a large protruding skull, with thick braids of hair that looked like tendrils. Many who stood before her always felt uneasy by her featureless face and blank white eyes, which were incapable of expressing anything beyond indifference.
         “Tenrai has been defeated,” Kage reported. He pulled out a sack, and dumped its contents onto the floor, which rolled a short distance between them.
         It had been Tenrai's decapitated head.
         “By the hand of the human?” She projected a soothing female voice within Kage's mind.
         “Yes,” Kage answered out loud, as if she actually spoke to him. “It appears he made the unfortunate mistake of underestimating his opponent, and paid for it with his life.”
         “You revel in his death,” she stated, exposing his inner-feelings.
         “Yes,” Kage admitted with shame. “He was unworthy to serve at your side. An epitome of conceit, who dared to even conspire against you.”
         “He was an impetuous fool,” she summarized. “Justly foiled by his own pride.”
         She tapped her foot on the ground, releasing a surge of kinetic force, which erupted as a giant spike that impaled the disembodied head. She then walked over and caressed it, her head tilted to the side, as she studied the frozen agonized expression Tenrai displayed in his final moments.
         “What of the human?” She inquired.
         “He is resilient, remarkably so,” Kage answered. “There was certainly something... familiar I sensed within him, but to what extent your brother's power influences him I could not determine.
         'He may become a threat,” he added, anxious to hear her response.
         “Anyone who defeated my brother should not be taken lightly,” she agreed. “But a man can only endure so much, like a candle that eventually burns out.”
         “So we let time determine his fate?” Kage asked.
         “There is other more important matters to attend to,” she eventually answered. “But keep a watchful eye on him.”
         “Yes, Empress Kurai,” Kage obeyed.
         It remained an ongoing mystery to Kage as to what exactly had compelled Akugou to make a pact with a human, only to be betrayed and murdered. He was only able to speculate, and he suspected even Empress Kurai wasn't entirely certain either. Perhaps Akugou suspected Kurai was close at his heels, to end their fierce rivalry once and for all, and as a final act of defiance, he bonded with a human to deprive her the chance of assimilating his power.
         Regardless of the circumstances that had shaped events as they were, Kage was at least certain that he would encounter the accursed Rōnin again. And he was more intrigued than ever to see how the Rōnin will manage to persevere. Perhaps Empress Kurai had even foresaw a potential role he had yet to play, which history had already demonstrated, that the fates of both human and demon had always been intertwined.

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