• Kirisaki was cold. he was wet, and tired too, but mostly cold. he didnt usually mind the cold, but this cold was much, much different. it was the kind of cold you get when there is something huge and unknown breathing down your neck, or when your in bed and hear a solid thumping sound from the direction of the foot of the bedpost. he kept walking, though. he had to, if he wanted to find out what Water had meant in thier recent conversation. he couldnt help but feel frustrated. it wasnt FAIR that he had nothing to show for his lineage, wasnt FAIR that he was treated like a diseased dog by humanity for no reason... well... they DID have a reason. but it wasnt HIS fault. he hadnt asked for this, damn it!it was his fathers fault! but his father had already been punished. no one would ever see him again, not even his own son had ever seen his face. the wind tugged at his kimono, and Kirisaki's only inheritence, his fathers strange, bladeless katana, thumped against his thigh. he continued to walk, and two beggars on the road scurried to get away from him, for they knew what the black kimono with the white stripe meant. the word lingered on thier thoughts, like a carrion bird on a carcass. Kirisaki could feel it in thier minds.

    DEMON

    Kirisaki swept past them, nearly crying when one of them spat at him and ran, making signs to ward evil. he kept walking toward the temple. It was his own personall prison he was made to return to every night, so he wouldnt eat the children of the village, or cause bad luck and bring droughts. he was always alone... always friendless...

    but that would change. even if he didnt know it.