Post by gin on Dec 19, 2021 19:43:05 GMT -5
Song of the Yōkai: Project Underground Arc
Season 1
Episode 2
‘Preparation’
The darkness of the midnight hour stretches over a field in rural Philadelphia. A clear evening allows the dim light of the moon to illuminate the scene, more than it might otherwise.In the midst of a grassy plain, the mysterious Tonegawa stands hunched over a large circle, drawn on the grassy earth with a large calligraphy brush. The thick red color dripping off its tip is replenished - occasionally - from a bucket sitting next to him.
His wide sweeps with the brush trace an elaborate shape, as his student watches from atop a small hill overlooking the field. Shirtless even with the temperatures hovering near 0, he does not seem bothered by the howling wind that whips at his narrow frame.
Multi-coloured, rainbow hair flies back and forth in the harsh breeze, as he stares with calm eyes at the work being carried out by his master.
“Christmas.”
His voice, when he speaks, is almost entirely devoid of emotion. He speaks as if reciting some solemn prayer, more than what one might sound like while carrying on a conversation.
“A foolish holiday, stolen from the Pagans of Europe by the savage, assimilating Christian hordes.”
“A meaningless day, wrapped in saccharine, manufactured concepts such as ‘togetherness’, and driven by the capitalist pyramid scheme known as ‘gift giving’.”
“A lie we all tell ourselves, repeating it year after year, for so long that we have given it a power far beyond any rationality or scale.”
“There is nothing genuine about these foolish celebrations; they are merely an excuse for us to pretend our vices are virtues. Turning materialism into something close to Godliness.”
“Even glorious Nippon is not immune to this cancerous idea, foisted upon us by the Gaijin who have subverted and poisoned my once-great nation.”
“Would you like to know what Christmas has meant to me, as I grew from a boy to a man?”
“Allow me to enlighten you.”
“Christmas Day, 2008. I’m 7 years old, and my grandfather is on his deathbed; a small mercy at last, as he had been growing sicker and sicker, unable to enjoy the little time he was coherent between fever and delirium.”
“My present that year? Knowing my grandfather no longer had to suffer the family curse. He was free to join our ancestors, finally at peace. What did you get that year, Marc?”
“Christmas Day, 2012. I’m 11 years old, and my father’s health has been declining rapidly. He was a good man, pure of heart and accepting of all others; regardless of their worth. This was his weakness, and the curse took full advantage of his decency and soft nature. He could not fight it like his father, and so he faltered sooner than the man who came before him.”
“My present that year? Coming to the realization that - if I wanted any hope of fighting the specter haunting my family - I had to become strong as iron. Unyielding. Emotionless. Cold. A valuable lesson for a young man, don’t you think? What did you get that year, Marc?”
“Christmas Day, 2018. I’m 17 years old, and my father’s time grows short. Rather than sit and accept that I was doomed to be next in line, I left my home with only the clothes on my back. With no money to my name, I was forced to convince a worker to sneak me aboard an outbound freight ship using… other methods. I watched my island of Hokkaido recede into the distance, as I sought a new life in America.”
“My present that year? Hope. That I might outrun my destiny, as much as it pained me to abandon my homeland. And though I did not know what awaited me in this land, I knew - or thought I knew - that it could not be any worse than waiting for my own end, to follow my father’s. What did you get that year, Marc?”
“Christmas Day, 2020. I am 19 years old, and I live on the streets of New York City like a common street urchin. A man approaches me - a man from the land I had left behind - as I sit shivering in the snowy streets. We speak for some time before he extends his hand, and I take it.”
“My present that year? A new beginning; earned not by fleeing, as I was foolish enough to attempt previously. No, this clean slate was gifted to me by accepting what I was, and what that meant. The opportunity to learn what had been plaguing my family for generations, and the knowledge - and training - necessary to conquer it… if I proved worthy of such power. What did you get that year, Marc?”
“And now, I have taken the first step forward in my journey here. Joseph Blaze was a worthy foe; the strength in him - whether his own, or a gift from his master - was no easy thing to overcome.”
“But I never thought my journey would be some simple thing. And for all his power, that misguided follower was merely the first beast I was forced to consume, to feed the burning spirit in my blood.”
“I have taken the lessons he taught me in that ring, and added those teachings to my own.”
“For that, I thank you, Joseph.”
“Perhaps someday, I can repay you.”
“But for now, I must look forward; towards the next peak I must scale in my quest for the heavens.”
“Marc Aaron Newton. A man who - seemingly - has all that a person could hope for.”
“I would wager you have no such sad stories to tell. I understand you are a wealthy man, so I am certain you cannot relate to my tales of poverty and hunger.”
“Christmas must hold a different meaning, for a man fortunate enough to be in a position to celebrate it in excess. And while some might look at you and feel envy, I do no such thing.”
“I pity you.”
“You, who never had to find strength in adversity.”
“You, grown soft and docile off the fat of the land.”
“You, feeling secure in your lofty tower, while the peasants sharpen their pitchforks and sickles in secret, plotting your downfall.”
The red outlines drawn on the earth have been completed by Sensei Tonegawa. From Gin’s perch atop a nearby hill, the full image is visible.
A sketch in thick, viscous red paint: the symbol of a nine-tailed fox.
Perhaps it is the very thing that the young man believes dwells within, using his skin to disguise itself until it has grown to maturity.
Tonegawa’s drawing done, he sets aside the oversized calligraphy brush and begins to walk towards his student’s position some distance away.
“I would call you a creature of greed and avarice; if I were a better man myself.”
“You see, many believe that greed is only a lust for money and material wealth; but they are fools for thinking so.”
“My greed takes the form of an insatiable hunger for power. A drive to strengthen myself for the inevitable battle against the spirit within me.”
“And soon, we shall stand opposite one another.”
“A man raised in the lap of luxury, with nothing left to gain aside from feeding his own ego.”
“Against a man born in poverty, with nothing left to lose aside from his cursed life.”
“Care to take a guess at which one will prove stronger? Hungrier for victory? More driven?”
“You have nowhere else to go in life, Marc. You have reached the pinnacle of your existence, and have only a slow descent into the weakness and senility of old age to look forward to.”
“I have only begun to ascend the mountain which rises in front of me. I do not intend for my path to be blocked by a vulgar man, whose only worth is in his bank account.”
“Your life is not as luxurious as you might believe; it is an ugly thing. Beauty is not in your cars, or women, or jewels and gold.”
“Beauty is something that burns the hand when you touch it. It takes great will and concentration to brave the inferno, and grasp true beauty from that hellish pit.”
“You simply do not have what it takes.”
“Perhaps you can offer an apology in death, for your crimes and avarice in life.”
“It is time for the ceremony, young one.”
The voice of his sensei, spoken is a heavily accented whisper from directly beside his ear. For all his skill and training, Gin truly did not notice the man’s approaching from his rear; a testament to the almost supernatural skill of Tonegawa.
Nodding, Gin offers no more words about his upcoming match, his opponent, or anything else. He has more important things to worry about, now that the sigil of the Kitsune has been completed.
Turning to face his sensei, he begins to follow the man down the hill; only the howling of the wind breaking the silence as they walk.
Each step brings him closer to accomplishing the very thing he was born to do. And though he risks burning in the flames of his own ambition and quest for power, he has no choice but to carry on.
He has a destiny to fulfill.