The Weeping Swordsman

Children dashed through the vibrant green fields, where delicate ice crystals adorned the ground. The air carried a refreshing coolness, and the cloudless sky stretched out like an expansive, empty blue canvas, inviting their vivid imaginations to fill the rest.

With her eyes covered and a tail hooked behind her, she moved aimlessly while she swung a stick in the wind. The others prevented her and made animal noises to lure her in.

“Gotcha!”

She took off her mask and held a boy with fair skin and long hair that lent him a more feminine appearance. He was about the same age as them, around thirteen, but his well-built body didn’t seem like that of a child.

“Sorry, I’m not interested in your game,” he said.

“You’re always a killjoy, won’t you loosen up a bit?”

“He’s right, you do always think like that,” another boy chimed in. “No wonder the others don’t like you.”

“I don’t mind if they don’t like me”

“Let’s go have fun somewhere else then,” she said.

The girl shoved him and laughed, tugging at both boys’ shirts as she sprinted across the fields, leaving the others behind. They entered the forest and arrived at the exit, where a massive dojo greeted them. Excitedly, she pulled her friends inside, grabbing the attention of the other children and mentors, and causing the boys to blush a bit. She came to a halt, followed by the two boys. The atmosphere shifted, and their senses heightened to where they could even hear the individual rustling of leaves amidst the bustling dojo. They were being summoned.

She released their hands and retraced her steps. The boys did the same, their heads bowed low. They arrived at the shoji door, guarded by two vigilant swordsmen. The door opened to welcome them in. They knelt on the mat and bowed to the figure before them. As they raised their heads, the air shifted once again. The old man had long, flowing gray hair that obscured his face. He wore a white garment and a black belt. He crossed his legs, sitting on the floor also, sighed, and savored the taste of tea before setting down his cup. His gaze fell upon the three children, and he sighed once more, as if struggling to find the right words.

“What do you believe defines a person’s identity, children?” the old man asked, shifting his seating position to a more comfortable one.

They eyed the old man. The sudden question was quite a shock to them. Both boys remained silent, racking their brains to come up with an appropriate answer. No answer would do. They're keeping their sensei waiting was a crime that only attracted death.

“One’s character, experiences, mentality, and, above all, aura,” the girl responded confidently.

“Good,” the old man acknowledged with a nod. “We often try to escape our true selves, hoping for a better life than what we currently have. Trials, hardships, peace, and companionship all shape who we are. Yet, we continue to run, and we will keep running.” He took another sip of his tea and let out a sigh.

The boys were still silent, their hearts ravaged with joy. The answer was so easy; they thought. Now they could leave. Being around him was overwhelming, and staying too long was rumored by the other children to bring either disease or blessings. Their sensei dropped his empty cup at his side and sighed.

“You must leave now, as training is about to commence. That’s all for today,” he said, turning his attention to the boys. “However, both of you should stay.”

*

The street was crowded, all enjoying their traditional fire dance performed by an obvious group of rookies. Though they made their mistakes here and there. One could see the passion in their steps, and the joy on each of their faces.

Mr. Swordsman observed them. They dressed as animals and twirled a long stick engulfed in flames at both ends. They moved with grace, preventing themselves from getting burned while chanting their anthem.

“Hey, Mr. Swordsman, what’s wrong?” Hudson asked.

“Nothing, Hudson”

“Are you sure? You’ve been silent for a while. I never knew you found interest in these things”

“I don’t. Now let’s move”

Mr. Swordsman nodded, and they continued walking through the bustling market, with Hudson hiding his face with one of Mr. Swordsman’s cloaks. The crowd grew more chaotic, which made searching for Pasta more challenging. Mr. Swordsman wondered why he had that dream and why it was happening now. He remembered seeing a vision in the forest while searching for food and the unbearable feeling he had, which he ignored. His head throbbed and his body temperature began to rise. His vision blurred as he slowly made his way through the sea of people. Not this again, he thought, sinking to his knees.

“Sir, are you alright? You seem sick,” Hudson asked, helping Mr. Swordsman up and guiding him to the shade of an abandoned store.

“Leave me, Hudson. I’ll be fine”

“You need medical help. I’ll go find a doctor”

Hudson continued walking, but Mr. Swordsman abruptly grabbed his arm, his eyes filled with unease and fear. Hudson had never seen him like this. He wondered if it was more than just a sickness.

“I’m fine,” Mr. Swordsman reassured him, his body gradually returning to its normal temperature after taking a few deep breaths.

“Let’s ask the locals about Pasta’s whereabouts. I’m confident they won’t fail to notice an obnoxious and loud boy around here.”

Hudson nodded in agreement, but the situation still perplexed him. Mr. Swordsman’s body had been overheating, and he had appeared to be on the brink of death just moments ago. How could he have been healed in an instant? As they resumed their stroll, Hudson followed Mr. Swordsman. Their path led them to a talented musician nestled within a quaint, regal purple canopy.

The canopy was beautifully decorated with dazzling jewels and the most exquisite fabrics. Surrounding the canopy were several hats overflowing with coins. The musician donned a vibrant purple outfit, embellished with hints of red and green fabric, creating a colorful and eye-catching ensemble. His long, dark purple hair was adorned with multiple decorative pins, adding to his unique and striking appearance. Mr. Swordsman dropped a coin into the musician’s hat.

“Excuse me, mister.” Mr. Swordsman said, eyeing the musician.

The musician simply continued polishing his flute, paying no attention. Mr. Swordsman let out a sigh and dropped a small pouch of coins into the musician’s hat.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, dropping his flute.

“Have you seen a boy who is about ye tall, with dark hair, deafening, and also annoying as a toothache?”

The man shook his head and replied, “I’m sorry, but in this bustling town, there are plenty of folks who fit that description. It’s hard to keep track.”

“Ok then, thank you for your time”

Mr. Swordsman and Hudson prepared to leave but were stopped by the musician’s voice.

“But one person did catch my attention,” the musician said eagerly, “a fast one who kept on yelling ‘meat’ as he ran through the streets, exuding a powerful aura. I hope this helps a bit.”

“Where can we find him?”

The musician pointed toward the famous meat shack, just a few meters away. They prepared to make their way there but were stopped by the musician’s voice again.

“I suggest you don’t go there.”

“And why is that?”

“The one who fell from the skies is causing havoc.” He said, “So it’s your choice if you wish for death.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Mr. Swordsman gave a quick bow and went towards the shack. Hudson trailed him from behind.

*

Tori took a large bite, tearing the flesh from the bones. She continued to devour the meat, not pausing for a moment.

“Tori?”

“Yes”

Emilia couldn’t help but worry as she watched a young, beautiful woman devour her meal with no regard for proper table manners. With a sigh, Emilia ordered chicken wings and orange juice. They had been at the food cart for over twenty minutes now. Mr. Swordsman had gone to find Pasta, while Grand Pappy had gone off with Cumbleton for protection, she thinks. Emilia had been observing the city. The town was still under construction, as were some of the houses and establishments. Entertainers were present on every corner, and their black skin indicated that they were not from the seventh, but rather from the northern parts of the third or fourth. The statues intrigued her even more. Although the town seemed new, these statues showed signs of old age. Statues were scattered everywhere, each holding a torch in one hand and either an instrument, weapon, or some other item in the other. Emilia was left alone with Tori to investigate these things until the mission commenced. The best way to get information was to talk to the residents, ask questions, and follow clues till you revealed the secrets, all said in her trusty guidebook, but there was a slight problem with that plan...

She couldn’t speak. There was no way she could ask a stranger questions. If the person is someone she knows or has spoken to at least once, she will have no problem asking them.

“Are you going to eat that?” Tori asked, pointing at Emilia’s food.

Emilia nodded and began eating her meal. After settling the bill with the chef, Tori decided to remain at the food cart for a little while longer. She was feeling quite stuffed and found it difficult to move after indulging in such a feast.

“Preposterous,” a man said. “Here in Pyrovile?”

“It’s all around. How did you not hear?” another replied.

“What are y’all talking about?” Tory chimed in.

“Foreigner, you probably haven’t heard of him, so you should be careful.”

“Heard of who exactly?” Tori asked.

“A notorious swordsman in these parts, who goes around and commits atrocious crimes,” the man said.

“Some myth the adventurers probably made up.”

“He’s here, you dimwit,” the other replied.

“He’s here?” Tori asked.

Emilia noticed the frustration growing on Tori’s face, and she immediately grasped the gravity of the situation. Dealing with a dangerous swordsman like that could seriously disrupt their plans. And on top of that, Tori had a troubling history with him.

“We need to inform Mr. Swordsman and the others,” Emilia said, pulling Tori. “He should be aware of these changes before he causes a scene or something.”

Tori didn’t expect it to come this soon. Her original plan was to go meet up with her comrades and fight this swordsman together, but now that’s all changed. Gritting her teeth, she was deep in contemplation as Emilia tugged her along the bustling streets of Pyrovile. This was the man who had attacked her friends, inflicting unimaginable pain. A murderer, an evildoer, and he’ll meet his end here, regardless of who he is.

*

Matthew remembered his last encounter with the swordsman at the bar in Kanto. The swordsman easily killed the people who tried to provoke him, causing chaos in the once lively bar. When he unleashed a powerful burst of aura, it knocked out Matthew and some of his comrades. By the time he regained consciousness, his friends were dead. He, along with the other survivors, were labeled as criminals. To seek revenge someday, he joined forces with Lester.

Matthew watched the crowd scatter from the market square as people ran in all directions. Traders and buyers hastily fled from the chaotic scene. The guards, resembling airborne pigs, crashed into carriages and barrels. Amidst the commotion, The Weeping swordsman loomed large, his straw hat clutched in one hand as his dark cloak and hair billowed in the wind. His presence knocked out the remaining guards, his aura crackling with power. Matthew couldn’t contain his laughter, clutching his stomach as he fell to his knees. Even the guards restraining Pasta joined in, their laughter devoid of understanding why.

“So, you’ve finally revealed yourself,” Matthew said, brandishing his sword and assuming a stance. “I will have my revenge for what you did in Kanto, you brute!”

Matthew charged towards the swordsman, swinging his blade in a forceful arc aimed at his face. However, the swordsman swiftly bent over, contorting his body to land a straight kick to Matthew’s stomach. Sent soaring through the air, Matthew maintained a smile as he wore a glove, complete with advanced machinery, and propelled himself downward with a powerful sonic blast.

“It won’t happen again,” Matthew said, preparing for another swing.

Once again, the swordsman evaded the attack, but this time, Matthew managed to land a punch to his face.

The Swordsman leapt back to maintain his stance and charged towards Matthew

Taking a deep breath, Matthew focused on his aura, feeling his entire body heat up as his speed increased. With newfound swiftness, he dashed towards the swordsman, swinging his sword. However, the swordsman swiftly struck him on the neck with his palm, launching him away.

“Why so silent? You won’t kill me that easily.” Matthew said, coughing out blood.

Rubbing his gloved hands together, he conjured sparks as a powerful force of energy surrounded him. He unleashed the blast towards the swordsman. To his astonishment, the swordsman effortlessly dissipated it with just his bare hands, the blast not even affecting his clothes.

Matthew fell to his knees, feeling utterly exhausted and furious. Despite acquiring new gear, he was still no match for this spawn of hell.

“We will support you, sir,” the other guards pledged, abandoning Pasta. However, the swordsman swiftly cut them off, striking both the guards and Matthew in one swoop. Though they were not dead or unconscious, their injuries were severe. The streets now lay empty, and reinforcements were on their way. The swordsman approached Pasta, his gaze fixed on the sleeping boy. Slowly unsheathing his blade. The atmosphere shifted, the air crackled with ominous energy, and the once already tensed frequency changed into one heavier than the former. Heavy clouds loomed overhead, casting a sense of foreboding over the landscape. As he turned, the swordsman locked eyes with a figure approaching from afar. Clad in the same attire and wielding an identical black blade, but there was no clear distinction between them.