• Chapter One: Oblivion

    It was the middle of the night when young Oshiro began his patrol around the borders of his camp. Tonight there was a new moon, which meant that all the light that he and his fellow soldiers had would come from oil lamps alone. After walking into the woods for about thirty minutes, Oshiro finally decided to sit down, bracing his back against the large trunk of a tree and setting his lantern down beside his knee. The years had been good to Oshiro, never sustaining more than a few bruises and scratches from the sporadic battles that he and his men were occasionally forced into. Japan was very restless, and had been for the past two or three years. Family fought family and didn’t know it until someone was dead on one side or the other. Still, everyone across Japan agreed on one thing, no matter what side they were on. This three way war between the three feudal lords had lasted long enough and soon, someone was going to end it. With Shogun Tougai to the North and East, Shogun Versimo to the South, and Shogun Tuskomi to the West, Japan was divided into factions, each equally as strong as the other, regardless of the land that the faction possessed. Everyone expected Shogun Tougai to put an end to the civil unrest that had plagued the country for some time, but now few believed that he had the ability to do so. Many frowned upon his cowardly tactics of attack and run repeatedly all over Japan, but none would oppose him save for the other two shoguns.

    The faint sound of something rustling in the leaves of the brush behind Oshiro broke him out of his trance and made him leap to his feet, unsheathing his katana as he did so. He was alert and focused, seemingly ready for anything, at least, that was what appeared to be situation until the wind began to blow. A strong gust whipped around Oshiro’s legs, extinguishing the flame of his oil lamp and plunging him into pure and utter darkness. Again, the brush rustled, but now off to Oshiro’s left, then his right, each time growing closer and closer. His grip was firm as he glanced around nervously, straining his eyes to see in the dark. Suddenly, the rustling stopped and all was silent. Oshiro had no warning as something long and metallic bit deep into the flesh of his throat, severing his jugular veins and windpipe in a seemingly effortless, single slice. As he fell to his knees, the flame of his lamp returned, casting light on the dark figure before him. The man was around six feet tall with black hair down to his waist. He was clothed in black, almost skin tight, pants and shirt with a black cloak that stopped just above his shoes. His shoes were simple black boots, turned down at the tops with his pants tucked inside. Laying horizontal across the back of his waist was the now empty black sheath that housed his seven foot katana. Along the sides of the sheath were the engraved shapes of two dragons winding towards each other, starting from the ends. His katana was basically traditional, made in the same special fashion from stainless steel. However, the hilt was different. It was completely black gold and had the head of a dragon on the tip of it, the dragon’s eyes being black diamonds. The once shinning silver blade now shined crimson in the light from the lamp as Oshiro tried to speak, only producing sickening gurgles. The man standing in front of Oshiro looked down at Oshiro, his icy blue eyes full of disgust and hatred and seeming to glow in the light from the lamp. As if understanding Oshiro’s gurgling, the standing man spoke.

    “My name is Akane Hikari, and tonight…..your men meet oblivion.”

    Oshiro’s eyes grew wide with shock as six other people stepped out from the shadows, all wearing the same clothing as Akane, brandishing the same katanas, and peering at Oshiro with the same piercing eyes. There were four men and two women standing behind Akane now. As his vision began to blur, Oshiro fell forward onto his chest and face, letting the blood now pool on the ground around his shoulders. In a matter of seconds, Oshiro was dead and the lamp extinguished again. Still, seven pairs of icy blue eyes peered into the darkness, seeming to glow brilliantly for a few moments before, one by one, they simply disappeared. Only the eyes of Akane remained visible as he turned to face Oshiro’s camp, a camp belonging to one of Shogun Versimo’s small regiments. Akane cleaned his blade on the clothing on Oshiro’s back and sheathed his katana once more as he began to walk forward. His steps made no sound and neither did anything else he did. After taking a few steps, his eyes too disappeared, leaving the woods to appear, once again, lifeless.