Disclaimer: I made these characters. You got a problem with that? You wanna start somethin'?
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| Budoka no Jinsei:
| SIDE STORY 4:
| Ethics
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| The psychotic tendencies in this story brought to you by:
| opaj
| He who edits his own work is:
| opaj
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***Nagoya, Japan. 1924***
A middle-height robed figure walked down the crowded, narrow streets of Nagoya, rudely shoving anyone in his path out of his way. At his side hung an elegant katana, and over his shoulder he held an old, brown nap-sack.
A shout, unintelligible to his ears, beckoned him to turn around. A man, dressed in noble-class attire and with his hand at the hilt of a sword hanging at his waist, was yelling at him. The robed figure could tell by the hairstyle that this man was an old-fashioned samurai. The figure shrugged; he must have shoved the warrior, an offense punishable by death, should this warrior keep to the old ways. It looked like there was going to be a fight.
Tsuyoshi Nagaguchi stared down his opponent. The man was obviously not of noble birth, and the death of a lesser samurai would not be noticed by the authorities. {This one probably isn't even a true samurai,} Nagaguchi thought, {but some wandering ronin. It should be no problem to avenge my honor.}
"Are you deaf?" he yelled at his assailant. He drew his sword. "Maybe this will teach you respect!"
He swung his sword in a lightning-fast upward sweep. The cloak dodged back, but the force of the strike knocked the hood from the stranger.
It was a foreigner!
"This one must die!"
The Russian grinned. The "samurai" was going to try and kill him. This would result in some international chaos, and he always enjoyed chaos.
Tsuyoshi rushed in with a side-sweep of his sword, and the stranger blocked with his own sword's sheath. Tsuyoshi withdrew, and sent a jab right at his opponent's heart. The Russian stepped out of the way, and kicked the sword free from the samurai's hands. He then followed up by sending a bolt of dark energy right into Tsuyoshi's heart...
*****
Kenji Nakamura sat in the abandoned warehouse, accompanied by a black feline about the size of a golden retriever. Nakamura looked to be about eighteen years of age, and sported a buzz-cut and a panther tail. He was dressed in some very dark, ragged clothes and held in his hand a broken ring of gold, about as large as a bracelet, which both he and the cat seemed very intent on studying.
A faint wave of dark energy hit Kenji, and he looked to the east. He perceived without seeing; a fight between a fearless samurai of days gone by and a heartless killer, one with a very familiar scent and aura. In a flash, the room was left unoccupied.
*****
The police arrived just in time to see Tsuyoshi Nagaguchi clutch the wound in his chest, still festering with dark energy. He gasped for breath, but no air would enter his lungs. He looked up into his assailant's eyes, looking for any mercy at all... He had been raised a fierce warrior, but now all he wanted was to live. All he met with was a glare, a glare filled with sadistic mirth.
The head officer tried to figure out what had happened. The obvious assailant here was a frail-looking man of about 40 or 50. He approached the man. "What is going on here?" He demanded.
The Russian looked at the officer, not comprehending the Japanese tongue. He turned to leave.
"STOP!" the man roared, taking up a battle stance. The men under him followed his lead.
The Russian stopped. Not because of the order, however, but because his way was blocked. By Kenji Nakamura.
"You," the man simply stated in his native language.
"You look, feel, smell like the master of something I once knew," came the reply.
"You are the one that my brother trained. You killed him, in your moment of glory. He gave you the power of the lycanthrope, paired it with the dynamics of the Heavy Fist, and you murdered him!"
"You are his brother?" Kenji smiled. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am not the same as what you think I am. But I am willing to give you the pleasure of joining your brother."
"Don't think you can do it! Kenji Nakamura, I have come to put an end both you and Tiger for what you have done to my family! You have destroyed the Mirsky name, so I will destroy you!"
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" A thick, black aura erupted from Kenji, forcing Mirsky to braise himself. "Kenji Nakamura... Tiger... they are dead- No, not dead, but shattered! They still try to live, but they are forever broken! Do you know what it is to be only a part of what you once were, mixed in with another part of something else that you once were... And to not know which you really are, to want to be what you are, and to be painfully separated from yourself?" Kenji rushed forward and clenched Mirsky�s throat. "I let your brother off easy!"
"You... are... KENJI NAKAMURA!" Mirsky exploded, releasing himself from Nakamura�s death-grip. "And I HATE you!"
Mirsky rushed into Kenji, and delivered a punch to his forehead. Kenji didn't so much as flinch. Mirsky delivered a volley of jabs to the stomach, and finished with an uppercut. Kenji didn't move. Kenji swung his arm at Mirsky, and Mirsky flew back into a wall, shattering it.
As Kenji stepped in for the kill, his eyes locked onto Mirsky's. And in those eyes, he saw fear, pain, hatred... All things that Kenji knew too well. The animal part of Kenji wanted to destroy everything that was Mirsky, to wipe that legacy from the face of the earth... But the human part of him felt compassion, saw that the two weren't so different after all.
Kenji drew in his aura, turned his back on his foe. "Go, before I change my mind."
Mirsky stood up shakily, backed up a few feet, and then turned tail and ran.
It was then that Kenji saw the aftermath. It was everyone who had been witness to the fight. Normal humans couldn't survive the heavy energy; their bodies had all shriveled into what looked like ancient corpses. In showing mercy to the one thing he truly hated, he had laid waste to so much of what he once was.
He turned, and he ran. He ran, and ran, and ran.
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