A black castle's debut [Plot

Binsu · 1 A black castle's debut [Plot | Private] Tue Feb 02, 2016 11:56 am

Binsu

D-rank

EP : 7

1734

Character sheet
Chakra:

(250/250)

Chapter 1: Admission

“It’s easy to infiltrate a party you were invited to” – Ni the treacherous.

Tonight was a different kind of night. As if a product of prayer the weather had promised a storm-free evening and Han had the distinct pleasure of spending it alone, sitting uncomfortably loose on a struggling chair in a worn-down pub that was far too isolated from the rest of the village to attract any attention. True to its ghost-like appearance, its interior was as dusty as its exterior was flaky, and its cool, stale atmosphere complimented the bland, brown colour scheme of the ceiling, flooring and furniture. The few people that knew of its existence didn’t think it necessary to expose it to the general public; it just didn’t matter that much. People often showed little interest for old buildings, unless they were too old to ignore or were considered national/historical landmarks, though something had drawn the young Sannin towards this vintage structure. Something as strange as it was inviting, something cryptic in nature, but oozing with pure authenticity. Han had received a scroll from an anonymous messenger that had requested his audience at this very location and at this precise period in time. The swordsman was reluctant at first to follow the unjustified directions of an unknown source, but curiosity lead him to this abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. And besides, they knew his name.

His real name.

Han had picked up the stranger’s scent far before he had heard his heavy footsteps, walking across the scattered pebble stones that blanketed the river’s bed and languidly moving towards his general direction. The figure moved carelessly through the surrounding forest; stepping on fallen twigs, pushing his way past overhanging branches and ploughing his way through tall-growing grass fields. His stride was far from careful, perhaps in testimony of his untrained nature. Han waited patiently for his visitor to arrive at the barren pub, occasionally glancing over the bar’s uncanny interior and battered furniture with an unsuspecting glare. It wasn’t long before he heard the all-too-familiar sound of rotten wood snapping under pressure, probably under the stranger’s step. Han didn’t bother to turn and face the stranger; he could see the reflection of his figure on the glass cabinet ahead of him. The man’s black, woolen attire was covered with grey-leather armour and was patched with various-sized steel plates. A black, traditional samurai helmet covered his head from behind and on top, whilst a Japanese kabuki mask shielded the entirety of his face. An out-spreading leather skirt – built up of multiple, same-sized leather segments with steel plates woven onto their centres - was worn around his waist, extending past his thighs and stopping at the knees. Slung across his left-side hip and outside the skirt were a pair of identical samurai swords – their blades resembled the same shape as that of traditional Japanese katanas, but was far too long to be classified as such. His hostile appearance was far from comforting, but it made whatever he’d say next that much more intriguing.

“Itagaki Han. Or should I say, Genko Binsu?” the figure spoke aloud in a deep and chilling voice, his dark tone consolidating his grim demeanour. He glided into the room and made his way towards the Sannin, before stopping an arm’s-reach-away beside him. His stare fixed on the cabinet before them. “How do you know my name?” Han asked, his attention now glued on the mysterious stranger and all thoughts fixated on his agenda. A small chuckle escaped the stranger’s mask and pierced the Sannin’s ears with a mocking tone attached. Binsu wasn’t fazed at all by the small gesture, but Han’s ego was somewhat disturbed. The figure began to speak once more, again facing the cabinet ahead of him, but directing his message towards the swordsman beside him.“Knowledge is power they say, but what do they know?” Han was disappointed with the figure’s response. “That doesn’t answer my question,” he said accusingly, glaring over the samurai’s helmet and mask, desperately searching for his attention. As always the figure kept his glare on the glass cabinet before him as he said, “What’s in a man’s name but his identity, his history and his legacy? A name is much more than a title given to a person or thing to distinguish them from other people and things, but you knew that. If you didn’t, why else would you be so curious as to know why I know yours?” The air fell silent for a few moments, but Han was beaten to respond by the figure’s booming voice. “I know your name, Genko Binsu, because I know your identity and your history, at the expense of knowing your legacy!” the figure exclaimed, before lowering his voice once more to say, “You killed Binsu because you knew his identity and history would inevitably kill his legacy, so you sold the former two to save the latter. Am I right?”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Only two people should know that truth – the Raikage and I - and you’re neither of them. So, who are you?” The samurai sat still, as if he were sure any subtle movements would have triggered his death. A chilling wind washed into the bar and sat between the two strangers. A tall shadow floated into his peripheral view and stood behind the unsuspecting samurai. It was taller than either of the two men and appeared to be wider too. The Sannin heard the disturbing sounds of women shrieking in the distance, perhaps in agony or horror, though his attention never strayed away from the armoured man beside him. Han felt his heart sink into his chest for the first time that night, though he braved through his imagination and insisted his previous question onto the stranger. “I’m the impartial spectator, the one and the other, the second from the first, but surely the last. I am, I have been and I will always be - in influence. If not in flesh – in spirit. I am Ni the treacherous,” the Samurai spoke in a heavy tone with a much deeper voice than the one he had been using before. It was as if some darker spirit had overridden his body and forced the words out of his throat, though his earlier demeanor hadn’t been compromised. He didn’t move any more than he did before: just the occasional lowering/raising of his glare and the equally-rare cough or grunt.

Han lowered his gaze and - at that moment - quickly caught a glimpse of the gaps between the samurai’s gauntlets and gloves; there was only air between the two. “How do you know who I am? I mean, who I truly am?” Han felt stupid for asking, but the question had been biting on his curiosity ever since he got the samurai’s invite. Much to the swordsman’s surprise, the samurai finally turned his head to glance over in his direction. Han looked over the samurai’s mask and desperately sought for the man’s eyes...but they weren’t there. In-place of the man’s eyes was darkness. “I know a lot of things about you Binsu, like how your brother is an ex-criminal formerly wanted by every nation. Like how you long to see your friend Tenmei again. That special eye of yours...I gave it to your brother, back when he was weak and hungry for power,” the samurai spoke, but the words washed over the Sannin’s puzzled expression. His mind had drifted into the samurai’s eyeless sockets and his curiosity had latched itself onto his hidden face. Who was this man? Just what was he…? What is he?

From his peripheral view Han saw the shadow move from behind the samurai and make it’s way out of the bar. He paid it enough attention to notice that much, but the moment he returned his gaze upon the samurai his armour had collapsed onto the floor - as if his stare had instantly vaporized the man beneath it. The lonely swordsman stole his glare back away from the fallen armour and danced it across the room in search for an answer. A sign. He saw nothing new, everything was as he had seen it when he arrived, but that couldn’t have been the end of that? This mysterious, omniscient figure - this ‘Ni’- surely he couldn’t have hyped his attention up so much to leave him with more questions and no answers? It was at the brink of despair that a familiar voice finally called out to the Sannin. “Your friend, she’s searching for your body. It won’t be long before her search brings her back to your grave,” the voice trailed off, but of what little he had heard, Han was sure the man was alluding to his old friend Tenmei’s return. Somehow he knew of his friend’s latest activities, which was certainly more than what he knew himself. He knew about his brother and about his true identity...what more did he know?

1 A black castle's debut [Plot | Private] Tue Feb 02, 2016 11:56 am

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