Chapter 1: A Storm’s Grace

Mud covers the ground, the smell of blood lingers in the air, swords lie discarded, tools that will never be retrieved by their owners, useless, untouched for hours.

Only the quiet aftermath of a battle remains, powerful people fighting against one another as Onmitsu. Many of those have spent their whole lives training only to meet an early demise to the brutality of the world, shrouded in darkness.

Men, women, children, adults, all are sent to the battlefield. If you are an Onmitsu, your duty is to die protecting your nation.

Everyone desires to become an Onmitsu, whether it be for money, power, fame, or fortune.

What they don’t tell you is that being an Onmitsu means merciless fighting, blood-covered hands, and death that hovers, waiting to embrace even the boldest warriors.

Wars have been fought since the formation of the first clans, battles between conflicting Onmitsu. Factions are created, and dangerous missions are undertaken to ensure the survival and protection of one's nation.

The very system set up to preserve and protect has become a wasteland of battles, with piles of corpses that dwarf the mountains themselves.

The Onmitsu are not the only type of fighter, there are rare occasions of people who fall outside these classifications.

Ronin are powerful Onmitsu that have deserted their home country, they serve no nation, follow no laws, and act completely independently.

One of these warriors rests atop the body of a fallen Onmitsu, cleaning the blood from his blade in the aftermath of the wreckage.

“You waste your time with these pests…Lord Gerizo.” A tall man with long dark hair scoffs, his gaze traveling to all the fallen Onmitsu littering the ground around the man cleaning his blade.

Gerizo remains silent for a long moment, tension building as distant squawking rises from birds gorging on corpses.

“Do not mistake Kaito, this is not retribution. Let this be a message to the great nations.” Gerizo proclaims, slowly rising to his feet, his blade raised as he drops the cloth he stole from the person he was sitting on.

He shifts the blade in his hand, turning it down slowly, pushing it into the sheath placed on his hip. His short, dirty-blond, almost brown hair blows slightly in the wind, the sword clicks quietly into place as he turns to face Kaito, his dark green eyes sharp with silent command.

“That Izumi will be their battleground…no longer.”

***

The afternoon is calm and peaceful in Kusabue, the capital city placed in the heart of Izumi. The streets hum with the soft chatter of merchants bartering goods.

Parents walk their children home, stray dogs bark at passersby, and the smell of fresh desserts wafts through the air. The sun sinks from high noon, clouds slowly roll in, and the smell of earth and dampness fills the air.

Kusabue is still recuperating from the damage inflicted on it during the Third Onmitsu Crusade. Unfortunately, the smaller city was caught in between three of the great powers.

Each great nation waged wars in pursuit of power, land, and money, destroying anything that stood against their ambitions.

The small land finds itself stuck in the heart of the conflict, a proxy for devastating battles shrouded in blood, death, and despair.

After the conflict, Kusabue was left in ruins, with only small compensation for the damage. The land burned to ash, cities left in rubble, and the innocents forgotten, left to rebuild the wreckage left behind by those that profited on their destruction.

The main street is clean, meant for those who travel through the city and those who are not met with the truth. The sections of the city that do not bring profit to the poor nation are neglected.

Diseases run rampant, squalor is gathered in mud and trash, and children orphaned by the war are discarded.

Left to rot in filth, clawing for scraps of food, fighting every day just to see what devastation tomorrow holds.

Along the main street rests a daycare, one that offers access to child care at an affordable price for parents in need.

Currently, a young boy sits on the old wooden porch of that very daycare, its planks creaking slightly under his weight.

His frame is small compared to the sign hung just above the building's entrance. “Bright Beginnings Preschool,” the paper reads, along with a child drawn that is almost as big as the boy.

His hair, black like his mother's, is blowing slightly in the gathering wind, dark spikes twisting unnaturally. He refuses to take his eyes off the main road leading up to the small building.

All the other kids have already been gathered and herded away by parents eager to return home before the storm takes hold.

"Yakubo. Your mother must be running late today. Why don’t you come inside? Before it gets too windy outside.” Hana, the daycare owner, asks the young boy politely, seeing the building clouds, smelling the dampness in the air.

Hana is a woman with soft hazel eyes, a warm smile capable of breaking the coldest stares, and a profound compassion for those less fortunate.

Yakobu, the small child, turns his dark violet eyes onto Hana at the sound of her soft question. He is no normal child, at least not in the way he seems to digest everything in front of him.

Even the small things most older kids would miss in their own childish ignorance of the world around them

“Mama is never late. What if Kenji got worse?” Yakubo’s voice is small in its worry, young and high-pitched in a way only someone of his stature could achieve.

Yakubo’s older brother, Kenji, had stayed home from the academy due to a sudden illness, the eight-year-old had begun throwing up inexplicably this morning.

Akio Kageyama is never late to pick up her son Yakubo, the mother of four is always on time, ready for her youngest to be released from daycare.

The schedule is set, Akio picks up Yakubo from daycare, followed by retrieving Kenji from the academy.

“I’m sure your mother is fine, Yakubo. If Miss Akio isn't here yet, she must have a good reason. Come inside, Yakubo, before the rain starts and you ruin your clothes. You can help me clean up, I know you like to pick up trash during clean-up time.” Hana whispers to Yakubo as if it is a secret to be kept, and he agrees, willing to help with tasks most children would despise unless forced to.

Unlike many other kids, Yakubo takes joy in cleaning messes, in leaving things better than he found them.

His mother instilled this in all her children from a young age, hoping to make them better people in a world that is already so cruel.

There is a strange feeling the young boy gets when assisting in such tasks, like butterflies fluttering in his stomach the moment someone smiles at the work he accomplished all by himself.

“Okay,” Yakubo mumbles quietly as he finally rises to his feet, standing just below Hana’s waist. The five-year-old boy is small enough that he still has to tilt his head up when speaking to anyone older.

Though Yakubo is still worried about his older brother Kenji, he knows Hana is right. If his mother is late, then there is a very good reason, she never misses picking him up.

“Can I have a popsicle for helping? Please.” Yakubo twists his foot slightly on the creaky wooden porch, he is shy when asking for things. Yakubo’s manners are that of a saint, but he struggles with voicing his desires.

Earlier that day, Hana had given out fruit-flavored popsicles to the children, those who had won the drawing contests, and those who helped pick up trash the best.

Yakubo did not win the art drawing, though it was a cute piece about a fox eating berries he saw on the way to daycare this morning.

He got a popsicle for helping clean up afterward, picking up crayons and markers, and for the subtle fact that Hana may or may not favor the little gentleman.

“Hmm, only if you promise to keep it a secret from the others.” Hana hums out playfully, looking down at the small, shy boy who has the manners, even at this young an age, to say please when asking.

“Thank you, Miss Hana!” Yakubo chirps happily, nodding enthusiastically. His earlier worry for his older brother Kenji and his nervousness about asking for a popsicle were forgotten in the face of the tiny frozen dessert.

The pair make their way inside the small daycare, Hana having successfully gotten the young boy to follow her inside before it starts to storm badly.

The space inside is small, but full of many things. At most, Hana and her two employees may see up to fifty kids in this space.

The room is spread out with plastic chairs and tables sectioned into groups, with a small area designated for the youngest of children.

A toy box rests with most of the toys returned to it already, the majority of the markers used earlier put away, and the timeout corner, a place Yakubo has never seen a second in.

As Hana walks toward the tiny lunch room in the back of the room, Yakubo pads silently after her. Hana opens the fridge freezer and peers into the almost empty popsicle box.

Hana noticed earlier, when handing out the fruit-flavored popsicles, that Yakubo looked disappointed when he got strawberry.

She also saw how he had looked at one of the other kids who got the banana flavor, so this time, when she reached into the box, she grabbed the right one.

“Banana for you, good sir,” Hana says to the little boy, who eagerly grabs the popsicle. He mumbles his pleasantries, distracted in the face of his favorite flavor.

The storm outside has started to take hold, and rain begins to fall. The wind picks up, and the clouds block out the sun, making the light darken through the windows.

Hana glances outside at the worsening conditions. Dark clouds that will begin to pour down rain soon, merchants hastily closing up shop for the day.

Hana glances down at Yakubo eating the popsicle, blissfully unaware of the massive storm building fast. It may not last long, but for now, if Akio doesn't show up soon, she will not make it through the storm.

With nothing left to do, Hana starts stacking the red plastic chairs along the wall, pushing the tables aside to prepare to sweep.

Yakubo finishes his popsicle, mumbling to himself about dinner, before moving towards the trash bin, lifting the lid, and gently placing the stick and wrapper on top of the growing pile of trash.

“Was the popsicle good?” Hana questions Yakubo while pushing a table that squeaks on its old wheels, the young boy has inhaled the small popsicle in less than two minutes.

“Very good! Thank you, Miss Hana!” Yakubo proclaims, his earlier blues forgotten about, he may be a smart, intelligent child, but he is still a child.

Children can easily be distracted by the simplest of pleasures, and a banana popsicle might as well be a shining diamond to a small child.

“Why don’t you grab the broom? You can sweep up alllll the trash.” Hana exaggerates her words in a way that makes Yakubo giggle as he shuffles his way towards the broom hanging on the wall.

As time passed by at a leisurely pace, Hana cleaned the windows while staying on the lookout for Akio. She put the rest of the toys away, beginning to make her activity plans for the following day.

Yakubo had been less productive, but still insisted on helping, he always enjoyed it, and he spent most of his time sweeping the floor.

Small tasks Hana gave him included sweeping, putting each small toy bin in their respective cubby, and grabbing markers for her to color in her new activity chart.

By the time everything that needed to be done was completed, the storm outside had passed over, it had left as quickly as it had come.

Dark clouds were rolling away from the city, the wind slowly halting its consistent gust. The only remnants that the storm had even passed through is the road covered in puddles and the smell of petrichor.

The sun is lowering, now visible through the parting clouds. It is late afternoon, less than an hour from sunset.

Hana, looking from her spot sitting at her desk covered in papers for her program and daycare, glances out the window to peer at the setting sun.

Still, there is no sign of Akio. If she hasn't come yet, something serious may have happened, it is not like her to be this late. Now that the storm has passed, Hana expects her to be here.

With nothing left for her to do at the daycare, and knowing she must also return home to her family, she plans to walk Yakubo home.

It is not safe for a child as young as him to walk home alone before dusk, Yakubo may be unaware, but Hana is. She knows that ever since the war ended almost seven years ago, Kasabue has been a cesspool.

Even now, it has only recovered in certain parts. Fortunately for Hana, Yakubo’s home is not far from her own, where she lives with her husband and daughter, nothing more than a ten-minute walk past her home.

“Alright, Yakubo. Grab your bag.” Hana mumbles, letting out a reluctant sigh. She had assumed Akio would make it, but if she wasn't here, something must have happened with Kenji’s sudden illness.

“What-why? Mama isn’t here yet.” Yakubo squeaks out in protest. To him, his mother has never missed a day. For this reason, he doesn't understand walking home without her.

“Miss Akio must have had something big come up if she has not come yet. I’ll walk you home to make sure you're safe. Okay?” Hana asks softly, all too familiar with preschoolers' tendency to overreact emotionally to things that have never happened in their short lives.

“But mama!” Yakubo starts, ready to insist on waiting for Akio to pick him up. However, when he sees Hana’s tired eyes and the sun setting, casting orange hues across the partly cloudy skies, he hesitates.

“Okay,” Yakubo murmurs, his voice slightly downcast. He understands the situation. At least he is observant enough to comprehend Hana’s soft-worded statement in the context of the situation.

“You're too smart, Yakubo.” Hana mumbles, her hand landing on his head in a gentle guide towards the cubbies where his tiny backpack remains untouched in the past hours.

It is true, Yakubo is too smart for such a young child.

Hana had expected a meltdown, a child’s refusal to bend away from the status quo. Yet Yakubo drags his feet toward his backpack, pulling it on with little enthusiasm that suits his usual self.

Yakubo understands, if not reluctantly, that his mother has not arrived yet. It is getting late, and he knows this is the most responsible thing to do.

“You ready?” Hana asks Yakubo, looking down as he straightens his backpack straps. He is a very structured child in everything he does.

“Yeah,” Yakubo states, his voice filled with something almost melancholy. The new feeling of his mother not showing up to pick him up from daycare is unfamiliar, and he doesn't like it.

Hana watches Yakubo stare at his feet as he shuffles outside, she wants to say something but can't find the right words.

The daycare door shuts behind them with a soft click as Hana locks it. The air outside is brisk and cold, left behind by the rain and a small gust of wind.

With nothing left to say to the young boy, the pair begin their trek home.

***

They walk quietly down the old dirt path, the sun setting in the distance, the soft call of birds finding a resting place for the night.

The walk is peaceful at first, Yakubo stares at his feet, his awareness of his surroundings nonexistent. He doesn't yet feel that paranoia as he walks the street near dusk.

Hana, however, is the opposite, her head is on a swivel, not only for herself, but for the tiny child walking next to her.

She knows that his age demographic in this city is the most vulnerable to being victims of terrible crimes.

Seeing the disappointment on Yakubo's face, Hana’s eyes soften, she understands that this is the first time Akio has let her son down. His older brother's sudden illness is only adding to his worries.

“How is Saki doing? I heard she might be getting a promotion soon.” Hana questions Yakubo with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. The tension at the corner of her mouth shows her forcing it to distract him.

“Big sis. Yeah, she’s the coolest, she's going to bring me to training tomorrow.” Yakubo's voice picks up slightly when he speaks.

To him, his oldest sister is the coolest and strongest person in the world. Hana has known Saki since she first started the daycare, not long after the war, when Akio and her family moved in.

The reason is unknown to Hana. All she has been able to deduce is that their family had moved here shortly after the war's end, and their father had passed while Akio was pregnant with Yakubo.

Saki was a bright, talented little girl, just like Kenji and Yakubo. Hana has had all three of the Kageyama siblings move through her daycare, Saki, the shortest, only for a few months.

“From what I heard. Saki was the best Ashinin of her class.” Hana teasingly states to Yakubo, her chest slowly untwisting as his face brightens at the thought of his older sister. He adores his older sister, more than anything in the world.

“Mama says that if she keeps going, she will be able to become a Gochinin.” Yakubo happily proclaims. He doesn't seem to care that he's mispronounced the title his sister may become in the near future.

“Goshinin. And if Miss Akio truly believes that, then your sister must be really strong.” Hana corrects him lightly, he had butchered it.

The rank is a serious deal, considering Saki’s age. Most Onmitsu don't reach the rank of Goshi that young.

While simultaneously having graduated from the academy only a few months ago, this is no easy feat. Akio is a mystery to the few who know her.

She was once an Onmitsu, but what exactly is unknown, so her telling her daughter that is telling.

“Big sis told me she wants to be a Kachinin by fifteen!” Yakubo chirps up at Hana, still mispronouncing the ranks. Hana just sighs slightly. Yakubo is too cute to correct, so instead she turns what he said over in her head.

Saki wants to become a Kashinin at fifteen, it is ambition. Saki is only thirteen, yes, she may already be a Goshinin soon, which most Onmitsu do reach.

“A Kashinin, well, she better start working hard. Her birthday is in a month, then she only has a year left.” Hana thoughtfully adds more to herself than to Yakubo. Not many become a Kashinin, it is a tall task. But if anyone would manage it, it would be Saki.

“Big sis is the strongest! One day she will be the Shinshu of the whole country!” Yakubo stops in his tracks for a second as he dramatically announces his sister's future as the Shinshu of Izumi, the one who will lead Kusabue into a better, safer age.

“I’m sure she will.” Hana chuckles to herself, relieved that Yakubo's earlier melancholy and disappointment are forgotten the moment his big sister is brought up in the conversation.

Hana does not doubt that one day Saki may very well take over this place. She is a stern young girl, runs a tight schedule, and would no doubt make a perfect leader in the future.

***

The walk continues, Yakubo lighter than he was when they left the daycare, his feet no longer shuffling, his strides longer, his back straightened.

Hana knows Yakubo loves his older siblings, to him, they are the coolest people in the world. The sun is now fully set, the streetlights cast soft hues on the ground.

It has been peaceful, the rain remains on the ground, the only sign it had ever stormed in the first place. A few people passed on their walk home, but nothing interrupted them.

Yakubo chatted happily for the last few minutes before the pair approached his family's neighborhood.

The moment Hana and Yakubo reached the front lawn of Yakubo’s home, the feeling in the air was off, like the twist one gets when their instincts take control.

The garden leading to the house is perfect, Akio always made sure her flowers were perfect, yet now they sit unnaturally still in the windless night.

The roses twist, tulips drooping, orchids have been slightly moved, and the blue tourniquets are dry, Akio always waters them before dusk.

Jarring compared to the massive gust that had threatened to blow away anything not rooted in the ground, now just unwatered plants, and a stillness that fills the tension.

Hana was going to let Yakubo walk himself in, but Akio was not here to greet them, something she does whenever a person who isn’t her own daughter returns only after training.

Usually, Akio lights a lantern on the front porch at dusk. She only dims it once all her children are home, but Yakubo wasn't home yet.

The door is slightly open, not enough to truly notice if you don't look close enough, but Hana sees it, and that is more than enough reason for her to go with Yakubo.

Hana gently pushes Yakubo behind her, he doesn’t protest. The intelligent young boy senses the shift in the air. The very life that had filled the street has suddenly vanished.

Walking up to the front door, Hana slowly pushes it open. She does not know what to expect yet, but the first thing that hits her is small but telling.

Saki’s boots, covered in mud, are left half-tossed on the ground by the shoe rack.

Saki has military precision, so dirty boots haphazardly discarded on the ground isn’t right for Saki.

“Stay behind me, Yakubo.” Hana whispers, voice tense. Yakubo gives a single tiny nod while hiding behind Hana, glued to her leg, afraid of what they may stumble upon.

The hallway is dark, almost pitch black, nothing can be seen, not a single light present. Something has happened, a struggle has taken place.

As they pass the main living area, the oven light casts shadows that reveal a broken table, marks along the wall, glass littering the floor.

Scorch marks line the hallway walls, curling the paint, the roof is slightly caved in at the back edge, and Onmitsu tools lie discarded on the floor.

The far end of the hallway has a dim light coming from the doorway, Akio’s room has a tiny spark of light illuminating the darkness in an ominous glow.

The sound of dripping comes from the room, steady and consistent, like a leaky faucet. Hana keeps pushing herself forward despite every instinct telling her not to.

She isn’t doing this for herself. Hana is doing this for Yakubo, the small boy behind her, terrified of what waits at the end of this hallway.

The first thing to hit Hana is the rancid smell of iron that fills her nostrils, its blood, thick, heavy in the air. She wants to run away but can't bring herself to.

Behind her, Yakubo had silently peeled away when they passed the living area, he had seen his stuffed fox.

Seeing the fox lying on the ground right there had made him overcome his fear, or act out of fear. The fox, named Mr. Fluffy by Yakubo, is the only thing that seems real in this horror of a house.

Hana had not realized the little boy had wandered away, so when she made it to the end of the hallway, her hand slowly landed on the half-open door.

Pushing it open, what she saw makes her gasp loudly, her hands flying to her mouth, her legs beginning to shake violently as tears welled in her eyes.

There, lying on the ground in a pool of blood, was Akio, her body on top of her middle son's body, she had tried to shield Kenji from an attack that did not spare either of them.

A few feet away lies Saki, she is face down on the floor, drowning in her own blood.

Akio’s hand had reached out for her daughter but fell short, limp on the ground a few inches away from her daughter’s motionless body.

The scene is brutal, limbs tangled together, blood spilled from all three victims into the same pool gathering.

The only sound that remains from the three is the very same dripping coming from Akio’s outstretched hand.

Blood curling where her arm had been slashed open, the deafening sound of each drip filling the air.

A mother's love, a mother's protection, wasn’t enough. Akio couldn't shield her son, couldn't defend her daughter. Now the three lay crumpled on the floor like lifeless puppets.

Hana doesn’t understand who would do this, why would anyone attack such a kind, peaceful family?

That is something she can’t wrap her head around, physically swaying at the sight in front of her.

Hana knows the only reason Yakubo is alive right now is the storm. The same storm that suddenly appeared, that kept Akio from getting Yakubo, that kept Yakubo safe from this.

In the other room, Yakubo hears the loud gasp, his whole tiny body tensing, his knuckles turning white as he grips onto Mr. Fluffy with everything he has.

Yakubo moves as fast as his little body can move, bumping into the hallway wall in the dark as he rounds the corner.

Yakubo thinks something might have happened to Hana. He doesn’t know that what he's about to see will change everything forever.

Nothing would ever be the same after this.

Pushing forward toward the dim light blocked by Hana, he sees she is frozen in fear, so he moves until he stands next to her.

Peeking out from around her leg to look at whatever had frozen her in fear, in that moment Yakubo came face to face with the scene that will haunt him for life

…his family dead.