Chapter Text
Book 1
It was a sunny day in Japan. Despite the sun glaring down on its citizens, there was a slight cool breeze signaling that the summer days were ending. Already, the temperature was dropping ever so slightly. For some, it was barely noticeable, but others, more susceptible to the chill, wore longer sleeves. It was on such a normal day, the never-ending tragedy and evil began.
This story is not for the faint of heart. It is a story of the flames of ambition, obsession, and a hatred never before seen. It is a story of man’s best and worst. Of their basest instincts and emotions. Horror never before seen was about to unfold. A man. No, a creature of some place none no, nowhere. Despite his appearance, you would be hard pressed to call him human.
The creature walked the busy streets. He looked somewhat out of place. He was tall, almost abnormally so. His clothes were not something one would wear in day to day life either. It was as if he belonged to a different period. He was somewhat thin, his pants being a size too short. He wore no shirt, his naked torso only concealed by a large, dirty trench coat that most would have discarded by now because of the still noticeable heat. He drew curious and cautionary glances from citizens. Some looked put off by his disheveled and dirty appearance.
A few school girls chuckled, murmuring about his imperfections and less-than-desirable appearance. Some cast glances of disgust, perceiving this strange foreigner as some sort of homeless pervert coming to their country for nothing more than to try and shack up with some naive asian woman. A woman with her small child scoffed in disgust, keeping her spawn close to her as they walked past.
The creature continued to stare ahead, not letting anything distract him from his destination. Fighting the temptation to slaughter, to spread terror, he quickened his pace, the ever-present rage making it increasingly difficult to be around humans. His hands twitched in his pockets, wanting nothing more than to rip out the trachea of a saleryman currently walking past him. After an eternity, the creature found his goal. The great wooden gate comes into view. And the creature almost wanted to try smiling.
His worn boots tapped, filling the air around him, even louder than the wind. He didn’t bother trying to be quieter. He wanted his presence to be known. As he got closer, the doors creaked open, and a young teenager walked out. She was blonde and walked with the grace of a ballerina. Her calm, peaceful smile was enough to nearly shatter his control. He bit back a snarl, but his hate was too great to withhold a glare. The girl finally noticed his approach and waved in greeting.
“Oh, good morning, sir. It’s not often we get visitors.”
“I’m not tipping.” He nearly let out an angry snarl. The young woman blinked owlishly at his aggressive statement. She lifted slowly from her bow of greeting, her feet pivoting slightly. She craned her neck to meet his eyes and resisted the urge to flinch back.
“I’m sorry?” “The tall man was tense with anger, glaring at her with such contempt that she wondered if she had done something to offend him. She adjusted the collar of her uniform, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She felt on edge, the unexpected anger of the man in front of her igniting a fire inside, making her muscles tense and her eyes narrow.
“Iv’e no interest in talking to servants. Where are the masters of this dojo?” The creature bit out, his patience for this unwanted conversation reaching its end. The blonde felt her eye twitch, struggling to keep a polite smile. The word repeated in her mind like a broken tape, stuck on loop. Servant. Who the hell did he think he was?
“I am not a servant, sir. I live here with my grandfather. If you want to challenge one of the masters, you should know that there is a fee.” The tall creature, whose eyes had yet to change from a glare, nearly growled like a feral beast. Pushing his anger back, he forced his tone to be less savage.
“I don’t care who you are,” He said with barely restrained fury, his arms twitching to hold himself back. The girl noticed this and subtly removed the straps of her bag from her shoulder and prepared for confrontation. “I am here to meet the masters of martial arts. Where are they?” He repeated his question with a guttural growl.
She was now glaring back with nearly equal heat. “They are here,” She trailed off, wondering what his goal was. “Are you here to challenge them?” She asked, not appreciating his tone or attitude.
“Then move. You’re wasting my time.” He ignored her question, nearly shoving past her to the huge wooden doors. She opened her mouth to warn him, but quickly decided against it, his rudeness making her want to see him struggle. As the creature approached the doors, he placed and began to push. After a moment, he blinked. He pushed harder. They didn’t even budge. His eyes twitched irritably, and he tried to pull the door open. Still, they didn’t even move.
“What the hell?” He growled, pushing and pulling the doors with all the strength he had. His anger was threatening to boil over, and his patience threatened to snap. He heard a small giggle behind him. The young girl was indeed giggling behind a hand, her eyes lit with mirth. He glared back at her with such hate that she stopped to stare with wide eyes in surprise. It was somewhat intimidating.
The look in his eyes. It was something inhuman. It was feral, like a beast, but still possessing the awareness of a human. She would go so far as to say it was…monstrous. He turned away and resumed his efforts to open the gate. He was now snarling, muttering curses, and spitting threats at the inanimate object. It was honestly a sad sight.
The girl almost sighed, her anger giving way to pity. He was upset. Perhaps something happened in his life recently. What could cause this amount of anger? A tragedy? Misfortune? The way he was struggling reminded her of a child, too proud to admit something was beyond their abilities. Her heart bled for him. She released a breath. She had to help him.
“Listen,” she began, walking up to the struggling man, “You won’t be able to open the door with your current level of strength. It was designed that way. Let me open it for” An animalistic growl cut her off, followed by a deep voice.
“I don’t recall asking for your help.” He spat, snarling with such wrath that she almost took a step back. “I’ll fucking snap your neck if you utter another word.” He frotted out the mouth, his face appearing less and less human as rage began to consume him. She looked at him with utter shock and outrage, stunned that he would threaten her so freely. Her glare returned to her, and she crossed her arms under her chest.
She stepped back and just watched him struggle. If he wanted to act like a child, that was his choice. That was how she spent the next couple of minutes. Listening to the man grunt and snarl, watching him push and pull with all his might. It was useless, though. You needed a certain level of strength and training to open that door. Still, though, something was strange about him.
She observed him with a critical eye. His state of dress, his facial features, and even his height. He didn’t come from Japan. That much was clear. The way he spoke was like that of a foreigner whose lived here for years. Someone whose Japanese was fluent, but still noticeably accented. He was pale, almost unhealthily. And his hair was so long and unkempt that she wondered if he washed it. Was he homeless?
He continued to struggle opening the big gate. She closed her eyes at the sight. It was becoming quite sad. And the longer she stood here, the less time she had to get to school. She sighed quietly and opened her mouth to once again offer her help. When she began to speak, the beginning of her sentence turned into a sound of surprise. The man was thoroughly red in the face, rage contorting his already strange-looking face. And with furious growls, he was opening the door little by little.
“What? That’s not possible.” She denied it immediately in her mind. To open that door was impossible for the average man. It takes at least months of training to be strong enough to make the door budge. She can open it effortlessly, but it still took years of training. Part of it was due to her young age. It wasn’t until she was in her teenage years that she was able to open it. But this man. He was opening the door. Through sheer anger and force of will.
His sounds of anger turned to grunts of effort and exertion. His voice sounded muffled. Was he holding his breath? “H-hey…” She trailed, wondering if she should see if he could do it himself. She decided she would wait. If he couldn’t do it, she would open it and start walking to school.
“Ngk…Ghlgh!” He was heaving, doing his absolute best to push on. The door was now almost a quarter of the way open. Soon, he would be able to go in. But could he push on? It sounded like his muscles were close to breaking from strain. She was honestly surprised he hadn’t given up yet. He was truly determined. “Rng…gaaahhh!” With a strained shout, he finally pushed the door open enough for him to enter.
He immediately took the chance and forced his way through the small gap. The girl hissed when he stumbled, and his leg was caught before he could fully enter. She heard him give a demonic roar of irritation. That must hurt. Moving quickly, she opened the door wide enough for him to move his leg. With a yelp, she heard him fall over. His body impacted the dirt, making her wince. “Uh, oh.”
“You filthy…” He once again snarled, trembling with rage. She winced and tried to apologize.
“I’m so sorry, sir. Is there anything I can do?” She asked, feeling unnaturally guilty. He looked over his shoulder, his eye glaring. After a moment, the glare disappeared, and a glint appeared. She felt a shiver and a deep sense of danger go up her spine.
“There is. Stand still, " he said emotionlessly. She blinked, and her instincts flared. Without any hesitation, the creature suddenly struck without warning, his fist lashing out with such speed that it was almost scary. It was untrained and clumsy. She reacted in kind, parrying the wild strike and kicking her leg out, drawing a grunt as her sudden attacker impacted the ground again.
“Okay, that’s it!” she yelled, her patience at an end. “What is your problem? I’m sorry you fell, but you getting your leg stuck was your fault. I was only trying to help!” She placed her now clenched fist on her hips, resembling a disapproving mother scolding her child. The man was glaring at her with seething anger.
“You fucking…whore.” He ground out, his spit spraying out like his rage. She blinked, both from the insult and the difference she finally noticed on his face. His bottom lip was bleeding heavily, staining his chin a dark crimson red. It wasn’t her who did that. She never touched his face. Did he fall that hard? “You will suffer for that.” He promised, his upper teeth were stained with splashes of blood. Then she finally realized that he must have bitten his lip when opening the door. He didn’t appear to even notice.
“H-hey, your lip is.” He cut her off, getting back on his feet.
“Shut your mouth.” He dusted himself off, his bloody mouth now set into a deep, almost cartoonish scowl. “Another word, and I’ll shove my fist down your throat and rip out your-” His threat was cut short when a cough from behind him sounded. He glared behind him, the girl smiling with relief.
“Grampa.” She sighed, fearing what would happen without his arrival.
“Miu,” The old man's deep voice rumbled with power, “I thought you had already left for school. You’re going to be late at this rate.” Miu smiled sheepishly, feeling scolded.
“Sorry. I was on my way to leaving when this guy came and demanded to see you and the others.” She scowled and crossed her arms while glaring at the man, “He was quite rude as well. I don’t know what his problem is.” Her grandfather hummed, now turning his attention to the tall creature.
“What can I help you with, young man?” He asked, keeping his thoughts hidden. He will save his judgment for now. With a hard glare, the creature met his eyes and kept his voice stoic.
“I have come to be trained. To accomplish my goal.” Miu and her grandfather both raised their brows in surprise. Neither had expected this today. To Miu’s knowledge, no one has requested to be trained at Ryozonpaku. Ever. The old man stroked his long beard.
Why do you want to learn martial arts? And here, of all places?”
“I am well aware of the reputation of Ryozonpaku Hayato Furinji. You are said to be the strongest man in this world. I most likely could not find a better martial artist to learn from.” He spoke earnestly, not a hint of deception in his voice. Despite his praise, his glare did not leave his face, and he twitched. Like it was killing him to offer any positive words.
His eyes were bloodshot with pure, unadulterated hatred. Hayato frowned.
“What is your reason for wanting to learn the martial arts?”
“I told you. For my goal.”
“And what is your goal?” His patience was thinning.
“My goal is to achieve perfection.” He declared, nearly snarling. Hayato frowned deeply.
“Why does perfection involve learning martial arts?”
“The perfect being must be strong. Is that so hard to understand?” The man’s voice rose an octave. Miu tensed again. Hayato’s face was now stoic, not giving away any emotion.
“What is your name, young man?”
“I don’t have one. Call me whatever you wish.” His voice was still on the verge of screaming with rage. It was near hysteria. It was also deep and guttural.
“Everyone has a name. There’s no need to be so secretive ab-” The creature cut her off with a furious glare.
“Are you a deaf woman? I said I don’t have a name. I don’t care what you call me, so long as I am taught martial arts.”
“Young man,” Hayato spoke before he could raise his voice. He turned back to the Grandmaster and met his eyes expectedly. Hayato observed him for a moment. His dark, long, and somewhat greasy hair swayed in the slight breeze. It got in his face, but Hayato could tell he was still glaring. His hair was brushed off his face, and Hayato finally saw his eyes.
They were blank. Like a dead fish. But if he looked closely enough, he saw an endless sea. As if it could swallow the whole world and not be satisfied. And they burned with the flames of hatred. A hatred so intense that for one single fleeting moment, Hayato Furinji, the Invincible Superman, felt fear. With that observation, he came to his decision.
“I can not train you.” He finally said. Miu’s eyes widened, while the man’s glare deepened even further. His lips curled back into another snarl.
“Why the hell not?”
“I can see it in your eyes. You want to hurt people. I refuse to train someone who would use my training for such depravity.” The creature snarled out.
“That’s the point of learning how to fight, old man.” Miu was gobsmacked at his disrespect. While Hayato felt a dangerous sense of Dejavu. “That’s what martial arts is. The art of killing!” A silence swept over the dojo. By now, the other masters had come out to see the commotion.
“Who the hell is that? Another scrub who’s come to challenge us?” The scruffy-looking man asked, crossing his arms with an unimpressed frown. The man wearing a kimono scratched his chin, looking concerned.
“That is precisely the reason why I won’t train you. Anyone who thinks of martial arts as a weapon to hurt people and nothing else is not worthy of it.” The creature’s right eye twitched.
“What was that?” He ground out, his arms twitching as his anger rose to unmanageable levels. “I’m…not worthy?!” With a shout of indignant rage, he lashed out. His left fist thrust forward, drawing a gasp from Miu. It collided his his stomach, and the other masters watched with interest on what the old man would do next.
He was silent, and when he didn’t move, the creature drew back. His face now showed shock and a hint of shame. His punch did nothing to the superhuman. “I believe it is time you left, young man. And perhaps seek some help.” His shock quickly faded, his pulsating eyes narrowed.
“Fine.” His voice was subdued. But everyone could tell it was not from humility or regret. “You won’t train me? I hope you’re prepared to suffer for that. There are other ways.” He turned to leave. Miu, not wanting to see him struggle again to avoid the tense atmosphere, quickly held the door open for him. Not a hint of gratitude was found in his eyes. He paused, stopping to glare back at her grandfather.
“I will be back, old man.” He promised. “And once I surpass you, I will kill you and everyone you hold dear. You will suffer.” His eyes bore deep into Hayato’s. Before he could respond, the creature left, mumbling an insult to Miu that made her glare at his retreating figure.
“Jerk…” she grumbled. She turned to her grandfather. “Grampa,” She began before being cut off.
“Don’t worry about that right now, Miu. You’re running late as it is. Go on. Have fun on your first day, you hear?” Hayato smiled, but Miu could tell it was somewhat forced. She was tempted to continue the conversation, but her grandpa was right. She had to leave.
“Alright. Love you, grandpa. I’ll see you later!” She took off running, waving goodbye as she did. The gate to the dojo closed, and Hayato wondered if he should have done something more. That…creature might do something dangerous.
“Hayato…” Someone said behind him, drawing him out of his thoughts. He turned to face him. Akisame Koetsuji is the greatest master of Juijutsu, and perhaps the best doctor in the entire world.
“He reminded you of him, didn’t he?” His face was grave, memories from long ago surfacing. Hayato knew who he was talking about.
“That is why I rejected him. The look in his eyes…” He trailed off before sighing. “I fear if he is trained, he will become a danger surpassing even Ogata.” Akisame’s brows knitted together in a hard glare.
“I saw it too. Those were the eyes of a killer.” He looked hard at the older master, “I believe it was a mistake to just send him off. That wasn’t just a threat. It was a promise.”
“We can’t hold him prisoner. And what he needs is something a prison can’t offer. That young man needs help. Therapy.” Akisame, ever the philosopher, asked why, and then he didn’t try teaching him. To help him of the road to self-discovery.
“Like I said, he would only use it to hurt people. I believe what he needs is something like emotional therapy.” He turned to the other master, “Do you believe you could have helped him, having had a student like him already?” Akisame flinched, briefly looking down. Regret and pain-filled recollection in his eyes.
“No…” He admitted. His voice was softer than usual. “I could never make that mistake again.” Hayato looked at him with sympathy.
“You mustn’t blame yourself, old friend. Ogato made his choice.”
“But I and Kensei ignored your warning. We trained the worst monster in the world.” Kisame sighed, turning to leave the conversation. “I believe I will go shopping. We are running low on produce.” He left, Hayato watching him with sad eyes.
Sighing, he turned back to the gate, where Miu and the creature had left.
“I will be back, old man.” The creature's voice echoed in his mind, his hateful promise repeating on loop. Hayato, for the briefest of moments, considered hunting him down. To end the creature before it truly turned into a threat. But he shook his head.
He would only kill it if it tried to harm him or his loved ones. He headed back inside, ignoring his instincts to end it before it tried anything.