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The Devil's Offspring by Quzor

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The name Mitsurugi Heishiro is property of Namco. The design is property of Falcon Zero. Both the name and design are used without permission. The story is the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

----

“Has anyone seen the captain lately?”

A young member of the group of samurai removed his hood, and questioned the crowd around him. The men who had heard the question, shrugged, or responded with unsure grunts, then turned away and continued their training.

“This isn’t like him at all,” the young man thought to himself. “He’s been personally responsible for supervising our training for the past three years. Why would he suddenly disappear now?”

The young man strode, with haste, toward the far edge of the plateau, the same direction he had seen the captain disappear many times. Mitsurugi made his camp at great distance from the rest of the men, which was not uncommon for military commanders. Still, it brought an uncomfortable tension to this young man’s mind, that his leader would be nowhere in sight during midday, their primary time for training. As he jogged toward the edge of the plateau, a small lodging began to come into view.

Mitsurugi sat, cross-legged, inside his abode with his eyes closed. His relaxed breathing and body position were clear signs that he was deep in meditation. Next to him, underneath a small bundle of coverings, lay his ninja captive, consumed by sleep. Over the course of three years, the two had become friends, and Mitsurugi had appointed this unknown ninja to be his right hand. Mitsurugi slipped deeper into his meditation, as the past slipped into his mind.

----

“My techniques are a result of the mixture and control of the energies that dwell within.” The young boy, terrified, tried to tell his story quickly, so as to avoid being cut by the katana that rested upon his neck. “You have two energies that constantly move through your body; your spiritual energy, and the energy of experience. By combining these energies, you create what we call chakra. By manipulating this chakra in various ways, you can infuse it into different items, or into nature, and create different effects.”

Mitsurugi’s eyes grew wider and glowed brighter. He became increasingly excited at the information this young man was giving to him. “Continue,” he commented as he licked his lips.

“It’s called ‘molding chakra,’” the young man continued. “You focus internally and mix together the two energies within your body. Then, using different hand seals, you can extract the chakra to create different effects.” The boy gulped as he finished speaking.

“Effects like creating fire, or tornadoes, like your men did to mine?” Mitsurugi was asking questions the boy thought dangerous, and he stuttered before finally answering “Yes.”

Mitsurugi pressed the blade into the boy’s neck. “There’s something you’re not telling me…I can hear it in your voice. If you value your life, I suggest you spit it out.” The murderous intent in Mitsurugi’s eyes was plain now. At the risk of being disgraced through assassination, the boy retorted, “Well, those techniques work on a slightly different level. You see, while everyone has both spiritual and experiential energies within them, they also house what we call an ‘elemental affinity.’ By harnessing the power of your element, you can do the things you mentioned, and more.

“What more? You toy with nature as if it is your puppet. What more could you possibly want to do?!” Mitsurugi was visibly drooling now. The thought of this new power filled him with a level of excitement he had never felt before. He glared at the prisoner below him, eagerly anticipating an answer. The boy hesitated to respond, but the words were forced out of him as the pressure from Mitsurugi’s foot, on his chest, increased.

“You can affect your weapons with your element!” he cried. Mitsurugi let up on his chest slightly, so the ninja could continue. “You can add your element to your weapon, increasing its destructive power, length, the speed with which you can move it, and a number of other things.”

Mitsurugi lifted his sword from his prisoner’s neck. “Is that so? That’s very interesting. I suspect us samurai will be able to put power like that to good use.” His drooling had stopped, and a sly smile made an appearance in its place. “Thank you, young man. It was well worth keeping you alive up to now, that much has been made clear. However, I see no more use for you.” Mitsurugi pointed the tip of his katana toward the shinobi’s chest, and raised his hands high over his head.

The young captive squirmed, trying to break free of Mitsurugi’s foot, but he found himself unable, having been deprived the use of his arms and legs. As the blade lunged toward him, he bellowed one final plea; “I can help you!” Mitsurugi’s sword stopped only an inch above the boy’s chest. “Help me…help me with what?” A look of confusion had replaced Mitsurugi’s smile now, for he was curious what help this boy could offer.

“Learning to control your chakra on your own could take years, maybe even decades. I can help you master it in a much shorter period of time. I am called a prodigy by the members of my clan!”

“You…you’re a prodigy? I captured you with one strike. How much can you know that I cannot learn?” Mitsurugi was both irritated with, and interested in, what the ninja had said.

“You’re speed was astounding. I did not expect you to draw and swing your weapon so readily. You caught me off guard, and I commend you for that. But please sir, allow me to show you how I can help. I am a master of lightning, more so than any other of my clan. I know I can be of use to you, if you’ll only give me a chance.” The young man was nearly at tears, pleading for his life. “Please sir, I simply don’t want to die this way. I would rather have the honor of dieing on the field of battle, than be a pincushion for a sword master.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, young one. True, I am a master of swords,” Mitsurugi said as he lifted his foot from the boy’s midsection, “but that plea will not save you. However, I will offer you a chance to fulfill your former request. Will you fight with us? Will you train my men in your ways, so that we may take back our homeland, or must I dispatch you here and now? If you select the former, I promise that the only place death will find you is on the battlefield.” Mitsurugi stood erect, his katana resting on his shoulder. He looked down at his captive, patiently waiting for a response.

“Yes sir, I will. I will train you and your men.”

“Very good,” replied Mitsurugi, as he cut the young man’s restraints. “I am Mitsurugi Heishiro. I am the leader of this group of samurai. We call ourselves ‘The Warriors of Light. Who, might I ask are you?” Mitsurugi helped the boy to his feet. After dusting himself off, the young ninja responded, “Katsuma. My name is Katsuma Ibashi.”

“Well, Katsuma Ibashi, in my clan, we operate under one word nicknames. In light of this, you must be appointed a new moniker.”

“Might I request one of my own?” Katsuma questioned.

“By all means,” responded Mitsurugi.

“Back home, my friends called me Tsubashi. Would that be acceptable?”

“Tsubashi. Why yes, I rather like the sound of that. Well, Tsubashi, welcome to the ‘Warriors of Light.’”
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