KAZUTO
an excerpt

The city was on fire. Kazuto’s dark eyes scanned the dancing flames impartially. The fires were spreading fast, carried by the wooden roofs of the Infinite Gardens. He was on the steps of the Western Castle, its stacked roofs and balconies over his head. The castle was many stories tall, filled with arrow ports. Alas, the archers were absent. At his back was only the sea.

Smoke plumed into the air.

Kazuto walked down. The front gates were being torn open; he could hear the ram crashing against the heavy oaken doors. Slowly, Kazuto’s men followed him, their swords ready. Kazuto’s own kazakine blade was slung over his shoulder, almost casually. It was a cruel weapon, with serrated teeth on the back and a blade as sharp as the tongue of a jester.

Kazuto’s men were all sorts; duelists from Geraro, axe wielding berserkers from Strensus, and ronin from Haruno. They were all prepared to lay down their lives, to die in a final orgy of killing that would doubtless be sung of for generations.

Kazuto was standing in front of the gate. It was almost ready to fall.

Kazuto looked back at the castle one last time. Go, Kazuto, she had said, as she stroked his black hair, you know what you have to do.

He was of the Red Lotus Raiders. He did not surrender; he died.

The gates fell before his feet with mighty crash. In the street beyond were soldiers of the Coup, carrying muskets and broadswords. Their faces flashed before him for an instant. Kazuto cut down their first charge with barely a thought, or even a feeling.

The enemy was many. Kazuto cut them down coldly, almost without thought. Their blood spilled on the ground, staining the cobblestones themselves. All around him, friend and foe fell alike. Their live felt like nothing more than a lantern flickering in the wind, seconds from darkness.

Kazuto became colder and colder as the massacre became gorier and gorier. The world seemed to be far away; all he could feel was the heat of his body and the sticky grip of sword, drenched in sweat.

The shock of a cut forced him back to reality, if only for a moment.

No more than half of his men could be left. They were tired and wounded, clutching their weapons like their own trueborn children.

Kazuto felled his opponent with one fatal swipe. The kazakine shattered, the fragments tearing into the soldier’s skin as he hit the ground with shriek.

The soldiers of the Coup littered the ground, gloriously disfigured. Kazuto tossed his broken kazakine sword aside and grabbed a broadsword off the ground. It was an elegant, curving weapon, with a yellow cloth attached to hilt. Kazuto tore the cloth off and looked at it.

The sign of the Solosian eagle was emblazoned on it.

Kazuto crushed the cloth under his boot heel.

“I’m going back to the castle,” he told his men, coldly. “I will return shortly.”

She was in the highest room, lying in repose. Her mouth was curved in that wry, mysterious smile she had favored him with so rarely. Her hair was perfect, worn in the long braid she had used for officious occasions. She was in a simple blue kimono, a red lotus embroidered over her heart. Kazuto knelt by her side, head bowed.

Her corpse was still beautiful.

Era was sobbing in the corner. Kazuto ignored her. He touched the corpse’s cheek again, and felt his heart harden. He remained for a few moments, remembering when her heart was warm.

“It was quick. She died with honor,” whispered Era, her silvery eyes filled with tears.

Kazuto was quiet.

“She said… she said ‘Bluewoods’ before she did it,” said Era, quaveringly. “I don’t know what she meant.”

“She met me in the town of Bluewoods,” said Kazuto. He stood up. “I’m leaving.”

“Where?”

Kazuto’s face twisted into a cruel grin. “I don’t feel like a human anymore. I’m a force of nature. I’m the wind that carrying razor-sharp sand. I’m the tempest sending sailors to their deaths.” He whirled around. “I am the worms, tearing through the wastes!”

Era seemed to recoil from him and his murderous smile.

“Kaz- Kazuto, what the hell are you talking about?!”

“I’m going to kill every one of those cultists!” roared Kazuto. “I’m going to make each of them feel what I feel!”

Kazuto whirled towards the door and stormed out, his cloak flaring behind him.

By the time he arrived, another wave of Coup soldiers were approaching. His men were ready to give up. As one turned and ran towards the castle, Kazuto punched him in the face. The coward fell instantly, blood flowing from his nose.

The attackers were passing over the fallen gate, and then Kazuto saw him. The long-limbed westerner, Peter.

“Peter!” yelled Kazuto. Peter looked up just in time to see Kazuto’s knife spinning towards him. He blocked it with his shield and snapped his horse’s reigns. It broke into gallop, charging towards Kazuto at full speed. The lancepoint was getting closer…

Kazuto just grinned at him.

Kazuto jumped aside at the last minute, sword slice out. The horse’s leg left its body. Screaming, the animal fell to the ground, sending Peter sprawling. Kazuto walked towards Peter as the man got to his feet.

“I know what you are,” snarled Kazuto. “And I think you know what I am.”

Peter raised his helm. “You don’t have the slightest conception of what you’re dealing with.”

Kazuto struck.

They struck and countered, dancing on the flaming night. Kazuto leapt over the broad arcs of the blade, striking at the silver armor without pause.

Finally, Kazuto’s blade found a weak spot. Peter screamed as the broadsword cut through his shoulder, adding his blood to the river flowing on the ground. Kazuto grinned and twisted his blade. Peter sank to his knees screaming, desperately trying to free himself.

Kazuto’s boot connected firmly with the man’s chin.

“Well?” asked Kazuto, as he kicked the bastard again and again. “What are you afraid of? Let’s stop this game. You and I, worm versus doppelganger, our swords ringing through time.

Peter snarled like a chained beast. Veins of flesh shot up the blade of the sword. Kazuto jumped back as the tendrils reached the hilt. They waved around, searching for flesh. Peter’s armor began to buckle as his shape began to manifest itself.

Kazuto’s veins began to bulge as the worm in him woke, smelling the blood of a doppelganger nearby.

“And now,” roared Peter, his armor bursting, “You die!”