[月食 名月] Blood Moon, Harvest Moon [Private]

The blood moon.

It was considered rather superstitious to believe that unfortunate events occurred exceedingly during a blood moon. The world of Earthland was boiling with arcane powers that tipped the scale of power forth and back on a constant basis, and anything could happen at a moment’s notice. Humans, non-humans, any sentient and non-sentient organism accepted this as a way of life, for which they managed to live so long. But there were outlines to this secured way of life… such as the sudden, unprovoked slaughter of officials at an ancient Shinto shrine.

Sightings were only from nearby civilians. The officials were almost singled out among the crowds present at the temple dedicated to a divine incarnation of Princess Kaguya. It was a typical exhibition of the temple to the Midijin folk of today, who held the ancient gods in high respect despite the changes in time. Midi loved tradition, after all…

But the moon was greyish white. What occurred after the sudden arrival of it was said to have been so ferocious, so tremendous that it altered the weather itself. A single figure sliced the temple’s roof in half. It all came crashing down, killing a few visitors. The priests present panicked and attempted to call for the guards, the armed Samurai present, to aid – and then, spray flew up in the air. Spraying vapor of blood created a sickening mist – priests and Samurai alike were turned to paste by the grinding sound of a blade colliding with the wind itself. The vapor from their splattered blood was said to have been so much that the air turned crimson, and the view of the moon turned a shade of red that night.

All of this death caused by a singular entity clad in a wide, white haori with a black gi underneath. Long, black hair was associated with the entity as well, albeit the big haori and the hair made it difficult to determine their sex or any other physical characteristics. However, the entity carried a blade red as blood, redder than pepper, a sickening shade of red.

And the blade highly resembled the blade of a certain, other Midijin swordslinger. A rather famous one at that… and rumors began to spread like a wildfire.

…

The sighting of a colossal, blue serpentine dragon was also food for rumors. Cloudy skies revealed its shadow traveling across the heavens, bearing with it heavy downpour as Minazawa was reached. Mura was understandably pissed all the way off – while reception back in Fiore still considered him a hero on all rights, Midijins didn’t know any better… and they were the prime victims of these murders. The rumors told of a person whose description and prowess matched his, so… could it have been Mura all along? Who knew him well enough to say otherwise?

Mura hadn’t managed to leap off Sei-chan’s draconian back and land his feet on the streets of Minazawa before being swarmed by arcane Samurai. “Wait! I’m here to find the real mass murderer! It’s not what you think!” Mura tried to quickly cut the bullshit and make things clear to them, but without tangible evidence, the Samurai couldn’t trust him fully… not quite yet. They were dealing with a God of Ishgar, and no safeties were too much against a threat like him. Midi knew of their representation among the 10 Wizard Saints too well… and yet not quite well enough.

“We have orders to apprehend you as best we can, Kenshō Mura…!”

Mura always felt so nostalgic about his home country, but to think that these feelings of homesickness would be drowning under dread like this was torture in and of itself. Even the way his name was mentioned was a mixture of confusion, pain and memory of old times. “… I don’t get it. Apologies, but your haori…” One of the Samurai would point at Mura’s orange haori – worn and battle-scarred, it was a sign that he wore it often. “Don’t you always wear that one?”

“Narakima! Don’t be fooled by a mere change in his wardrobe – take a glance at the scabbard on his back!”

All the other skeptical Samurai turned to dreaded fury once they glanced over the blood-red scabbard. That sword was notorious for one thing and one thing only – blood. “It… no, you b-b-bastard… after all you’ve done for us…”

“What the hell are you on about, you guys?!”

“YOU DON’T HAVE ANY RIGHT TO TALK! I DON’T CARE HOW POWERFUL YOU’VE BECOME, THERE’S A LIMIT TO THINGS IN LIFE AND YOU’VE BROKEN ONE OF THE MOST HALLOWED OF THEM!!!”

“I thought the Gesshoku was stolen and disappeared with the late Daimyō 10 years ago, b-but if it’s in your hands, then everything makes sense…”

“Y-You succumbed to its whisper, too?! I’m sorry Kenshō-san... but you’re too dangerous to be left ALIVE!!!”

At the end, Mura could never forgive himself if he spilled innocent blood – especially that of Midijin blood. He sought refuge with superhuman speed, escaping the charging eyes of the Samurai, and found himself in hiding near the temple of Tsukuyomi, one of the two big temples of Midi’s capital. Tsukuyomi, the moon, and Amaterasu, the sun. Two siblings, male and female. The dark and the light. These two embodiments meant the world to Midi… and Mura was hiding near one of their temples as if a criminal, despite everything he’d sacrificed for all of Earthland. Midi was synonymous with old wounds, aching scars under his skin, but he had to endure for the better of all.

It was soon to be Tsukimi, the Moon Festival. Mura had an inkling, but it was impending doom that awaited them… and yet, this taste of blood in the air would answer a lot of questions. What was wrong with his sword, Gesshoku? Was it cursed? Was he under its spell without realizing it, or… was he being framed by someone? Was this all a setup?!

Who was behind these killings? Why at temples only? If the pattern was solid, then… Tsukimi would meet a grievous end. Minazawa’s main street was tilting downwards, coated in stairs and raspy stone for foothold. Paper lamps held up in the air, booths raised in high spirits, people tried to live their lives as they always had and celebrate what they always enjoyed. Tsukimi, Tsukimi…

There was a metallic taste of blood in the air. Mura had used the distraction of preparing for the festival to enter Tsukuyomi’s temple, but it was getting dark, and the moon above granted only dim lighting inside the hall. Tsukuyomi loomed around him, as if visibly alerted by the intrusion of an evil force of nature… but Mura was a kind spirit and a valiant hero, albeit his standing around made him come off as timid and confused?

So who?

WC: 1139
TWC: 1139

Soon enough, another figure could be spotted heading towards the temple, her blue eyes seeming to turn anyone that caught her gaze into pillars of ice. There was an aura that surrounded the woman, a menacing and bloodthirsty one that seemed to infect the mortals around her. It was as if all of the joy and happiness drained from them in an instant, replaced by fear and anxiety and the worst part? She was not even doing it deliberately, it was simply her nature to draw out such feelings from her prey. There were many so-called monsters in the universe but the haori wearing creature truly was such a being. The scent of death and blood was her constant companion and ever since she had set upon this world, she had delivered an enormous amount of both. Her time in Earthland had been rather short but she had wasted no time in making herself known to the people of Midi. They might know the monster's name but they knew her trademark form of carnage and the blade that she wielded. A weapon as twisted and evil as she was.

There was something different about those around her, with many seeming to flee before they even caught sight of her. Has her reputation already spread that far? The question somewhat amused her, bringing the smallest of a satisfied smile to her face. They would certainly know of her tonight if they did not already, as her target was near. Ever since she had begun on her bloody red path, the dark haired woman had not once refused to attack a place of worship, seeming to be drawn to them more than any other location. Oh, she had her reasons and her hatred for such places ran incredibly deep. She despised humanity anyway but the fact that they were so pathetic that they found themselves worshipping undeserving creatures. Yes, gods and angels did exist, a fact that the blue haired monster knew better than anyone but were they worthy of such reverence? No. They were as pitifully weak and useless as the humans who worshipped them. They would all be destroyed in time, both mortal and immortal, by the blade of the haori wearing creature.

The guards were giving her unusual looks too and their hands were already starting to move towards their weapons. Clearly, her hypothesis was correct, they had been expecting her and although she could sense a great deal of fear from them, it appeared as though they at least had the fortitude to try and do something about her appearance. Yet, for the time being, she simply continued to walk forwards, awaiting the moment that they would dare approach her. She was taunting them, flaunting her superiority and lack of fear by walking into their backyard, so to speak. She was not afraid of them or anyone else for the creature had already faced the greatest of all fears and come out stronger for it. Bound for what had felt like an eternity, shut away from the universe and left to suffer in the void with only her will keeping her sane. How long had she been there for? Centuries? Millenia? It was impossible to tell but one aspect was clear. She had infinites lifetimes of bloodlust and rage to unleash because of it, a thought that was oh so tantalising. Would this country be enough to satisfy her? She suspected not.

It was only when she was directly in front of the temple that the guards made a move, swiftly forming into a group and blocking her path, swords drawn and pointed directly at her. They all wore the same garb, clearly warriors of Midi and the blue eyes of the woman shifted from guard to guard, almost looking through them, right to their very core. They still did not attack though and it was the woman who took the first step forward, now mere inches away from their outstretched blade. It appeared for a few tantalising moments that the stand off would last forever, before one of the samurai began to speak, his voice rather gruff and firm. He appeared to be the one in charge.

“You dare violate our country, desecrate our temples and walk into our very capital without a care in the world. The foul stench of blood surrounds your form and when I look at you, I see the reaper of death staring back at me. You will not take another step towards this temple and if you do not surrender now, we will end your reign of terror right here and now. Speak.”

His voice was surprisingly steady, considering the situation and for a moment, the eyes of the woman focused exclusively on him, little more than slits for the moment. A look that was almost hungry in appearance, as though she was sizing him up to be her next meal. It would terrify lesser men and even the guard briefly looked uncomfortable.

That was his mistake.

In an attack that was completed with such speed and precision that it appeared as though she had not even moved, the dark being’s sword cut through the male in one stroke, straight through his armour and causing his body to erupt with blood. He collapsed without uttering a single sound, his face not even registering the fact that he had been attacked. It was over in an instant and before the other guards knew what was happening, she was upon them, her foul blade cutting through them like a hot knife through butter. Her attacks were so crisp, her precision so accurate, that they had no real chance of survival. She carved them up like a turkey and within the space of about thirty seconds or so, the fight, if one could call it that, was over. The bodies of the samurai were well and truly unrecognisable, scattered around the evil creature, now little more than dinner for the crows.

The reaction from the locals was swift and loud screaming could soon be heard as they ran for cover, doing whatever possible to escape the demon that had just made mincemeat of their protectors. For a moment, it seemed as though the woman would ignore them and simply enter the temple but instead, she turned around and pointed her free hand towards a group of fleeing people.

“Sokatsui.”

A powerful blast of blue energy would leave her hand, sending the innocents flying and dealing heavy damage to the area around them too.

No one would be safe from her.

No one.

(1098 Words)

Great, there were guards right outside of the temple now. Should he just try and plead his case to them? Given by the previous guards’ reactions, that’d just make him flee to another temple – he didn’t want to be a criminal in his own, damn country! There had to be some sort of impostor running around, killing in his name… or something.

“The guards mentioned Gesshoku… hey, Kyuken, you think there are other swords out there like this one?”

Kyuken had been quiet up until now, but the samurai’s ghost was filled with dread and worry as well. When one’s homeland was in turmoil, jokes could seldom be shared between long-acquainted comrades. “No… not that I’d know. I never came across Gesshoku, believe it or not – I did come across a special, blue katana. A double-edged sword, too, but its wielder broke it himself…”

“So no other swords like this one?”

“Maybe it was forged recently. With the purpose of framing you, the current wielder of Gesshoku,” Kyuken tried to weave inexistent pieces together to the best of his ability, “Or we’re dealing with a foreigner. Either way… you’re wasting your time in here, Mura. Are you sure they’ll show up?”

“Tsukimi, Kyuken. The festival starts tonight, and this is Minazawa’s most revered temple. I just need to figure out how to convince those Samurai…”

And then, the bell rang. A bell the size of the moon itself, its ringing sound traveling through space, shattering the air and his perception of reality for a slight moment, a blur, a blitz, a ringing tone of impending danger arriving here in Minazawa. And he felt it before he could sense the magical presence… someone powerful. Exceptionally powerful… and it was right outside of the temple gate!

He slammed the gates open, damn if the guards would spot him! Damn if his country would continue lynching him for a crime he never committed, that presence felt familiar! Just for a moment, it felt like the presence of a filthy liar who once called herself worthy of worship, a witch disguised as human. And the view of Midijins flying in the air was triggering.

This was his people… his beloved land. His emotions took over completely, with growing vegetation spreading all over the outline of the main street running down from the temple front. Vines and branches stretched in all directions, grabbing hold of people in the air and sending them to the ground in safety. Some were badly injured by the impact of the perpetrator’s spell, and many had died instantly, but some were rescued by Mura’s action.

Should the long-haired swordswoman clad in a wide, white haori turn around, she’d spot him standing by the temple gate, glaring down with intensity as bushes began growing around the outline of the street. From these bushes, red lotus flowers pushed out from the greenery and began to slowly open themselves. But a look at her… she was not who Mura feared for a split second. Nay, this made things worse.

This world… was starting to catch a few too many monsters lately.

An orange haori over a black gi, shinobi leggings, sandals, a katana sheathed on his hip, a katana sheathed on his back, and a red stone dagger tied to the front of his midsection. His left arm was metallic, inorganic but moving. Magic power bubbling in the air around him, but something more than that hiding deep within his skin and bones.

She held a blood-red blade. She was the one. “So you’re the one who’s done all of this,” he simply spoke in a raspy, deep voice, not needing to go into detail as people like her knew what they had done, “A lot of precious people have died untimely because of you… no, who am I talking to? Surely the likes of you won’t listen.”

It was strange. Visions of the old Onmyōryō passed by his face, and blood could be tasted in his mouth. Yet, this time, things would be different. No more, simply, no more. The vines and branches who had saved people a moment before now began coiling closer and closer towards the entity with the bloodied blade.

“… But you will hear this. Bear your claws again-“ Kyuken’s voice, face and anger began merging with Mura’s, like two silhouettes overlapping each other, “-and I’ll slash every cell in your body, turn you to powder, and light you aflame- I dare you. Draw. Your. Blade.”

WC: 748
TWC: 1887

Her gaze most certainly was upon him now, having turned around a few moments after he had begun speaking. There was no sympathy in her blue orbs, no hesitation, no regret over what she had done. Nothing. It was simply what she had desired to do and nothing more. His words did not have the slightest effect on her and if his intention was to cause her to withdraw then he had completely failed. All of his pretty and at the same time pathetic words did nothing but increase her desire for blood. His blood. He was stronger than the peons around them, that much she would give him credit for and there was an aura of power that seemed to radiate from him that caused her hand to shake with anticipation. Her goal had been to destroy the temple but for the moment, that would be tossed aside in favour of carving the male before her into small pieces. He was taunting her, threatening her and for just a few moments, she could have sworn that she heard two voices rather than one. A curious notion but one that she was familiar with.

For she had done precisely that only recently, invading the mind and body of the woman who she now inherited. There had been no talk of a truce of kinsmanship though. No, the being had refused to deal and simply forced the hosts soul out, replacing it in one moment of overwhelming force. Why had she chosen this particular human to take over? The reasoning was not all that complicated. The woman was beautiful, her body was well honed and she had all the knowledge that the beast required in order to understand the world that she was now in. She had been a noble warrior, a master of the blade, a teacher to many, all of which had been destroyed by the creatures interference. Now, the woman was known as a destroyer of towns, an ender of lives and a demon of the blade, all thanks to the monster that was in control. Where had the creature come from? Now that was a long story, one that she was most certainly not going to explain to any of the fools around her. They most likely did not have the intelligence to understand anyway, given how limited they were mentally. What did humans know of gods and monsters, outside of what they read in their pathetic children's books?

She was not going to bother to respond at first and her right hand was already moving towards her blade instinctively, more than eager to fulfil his wish and yet, she could not find herself wishing to rub his face in the carnage that she had already caused and so spoke, her voice being eerily soft, for a creature of darkness. “Death is the fate of all that I encounter. You talk to me as though I should feel regret over doing what comes naturally to me. Well, I hate to break it to you but I do not give the slightest damn about those I have slaughtered or any other human who walks this world. My path is one of blood and chaos, which will take me from one side of the planet to the other and back again, until there is nothing left but darkness. I will not be satisfied until I get my fill and having been starved for so long, I do not know just whether I ever will be.”

Hearing the sound of the vines as they approached her, the woman drew her blade and plunged it into the solid ground, resulting in the area around her to burst with blood. The smell was pungent and foul but to the woman, it was as appealing as flowers or freshly baked bread. It would appear as though the blood did nothing at first but after a few moments, the plants would begin to wither and die, due to the corrosiveness of her blade's crimson liquid. The blood created by her weapon was anything but ordinary and as she watched the plants around her wither, it painted a perfect picture of just how she valued life, other than her own of course.

With little more to say at that point, she would then charge towards the male and leap towards him, her crimson blade baying for his blood. No hesitation, no fear, only the desire to cut his head off and feed it to the first animal she saw.

(754 Words)
(1852 TWC)

Absolutely terrifying eyes, that she had. At first, he saw an image of the witch reflect in this one’s posture, but those eyes couldn’t have been any colder. Not a shred of remorse nor restraint. He could barely see a shred of desire behind them, not a thought dedicated to anyone. It was as if Mura was gazing into the deep, deep ocean trying to pull him deeper and deeper, until the weight of all crushed his bones to dust.

And she made it painfully clear to him that she couldn’t care less about what was right… and what was wrong. And she, too, scoffed at the idea of death and its tolls on human morals. A being who only sought to spread death and destruction… only managed to open old wounds and scars within Mura’s own soul. Scars that reminded him of a terrible fate that he had to escape. Judging by her words… she had starved from killing, eh? Was she locked away somewhere? Was that why she was so unhinged?

Wherever she came from, there she had to return. “I can’t stress enough how tired I am of the likes of you…” he spoke back with a venomous tone, his own grip on Harukami shaking with fury. Her bloody display killed his plants… a sick being through and through, and she didn’t even wait to leap at him with murderous intent. He didn’t even need to see it with his own eyes – her thirst for blood and single-minded determination to sever his head from his shoulders was clear as day.

His form faded away into a mere phantom image once her blade crossed where his neck was a moment ago. Speed was Mura’s forte, after all, and he’d been training way too tediously to not make full use of the skills he’d acquired with his newfound physical strength. Thanks to Vandrad’s training, his physique was ever closer to that of Kyuken in his glorious days as a living legend. Instead, the bloody monster would find… a tranquil sensation. As if the world was darkening.

And a shining thread dangling in the air. A thin but clearly visible thread, waving uncontrollably. An optical illusion to such an absurd degree, causing those who touch the thread to feel the swift cut on the limb they touched it with, as if the thread was made of a million, a trillion, or a quintillion atom-sized chainsaws.

But in reality, Mura was closing up on her with a lowered form, knowing that someone of her caliber could see through the optical illusion in an instant – and yet, he hoped that such an instant would be all he needed.

WC: 446
TWC: 2333